Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (128 page)

“Yes, Papa.”  Elizabeth picked up the Bible and wiping her eyes, looked around the bookroom.  She knew that it would never be this way again.  At last her gaze rested on her father and she memorized his position in his chair.  “I love you.” 

“Enough.  Off you go, then.”  He closed his eyes as she kissed his cheek and did not open them again until he heard the door close behind her.  He looked out at the beautiful carriage and watched as the door was opened and Elizabeth stepped up to board only to stop when a man’s hand extended from within and helped her inside.  “She is loved.”  Mr. Bennet closed his eyes when the carriage pulled away.  “Goodbye, Lizzy.”   

“HE WAS QUITE AN IMPOSING MAN.”  Susan said thoughtfully.

“Oh, definitely.”  Judge Darcy stared at his uncle the judge, his inspiration.  “But a great man.  I admired him very much.”

“You
did
?”  She nudged him and laughed.

“All right, young lady.   Enough.”  He cleared his throat and looked at her sternly.  “Otherwise I will bore you with another story of him.” 

“Please no, I know them all by heart.”  Susan smiled when she felt his hand encompass hers and they strolled back along the gallery to stop before Darcy’s portrait.  “He is a handsome man.” 

“Of course.” 

“Harding.” 

“Hmm?”  He smiled when he saw her brows had risen.  “Our new niece laughed at me when we first met and said that she could see her husband twenty years on when she looked at me.  I am afraid that I did not find her amusing at the time.” 

“Nobody likes to have their age pointed out to them, but I am sure that she meant it as a compliment.”

“Yes, she did.  She was a young happy woman in love and she wanted to share it with everyone.  She even tried to cajole sweet wine from vinegar.”  He sighed when Susan squeezed his hand.  “I . . . I was in a bad way that night.  It was the day before they left for Pemberley. 
That
week.”  Their eyes met and she rubbed his arm.

“You had them to dinner.” 

“Yes.”  He nodded.  “I was unable to stay for the meal.”

“You served them orgeat?”  Susan remembered.  “Fitzwilliam said that he had some at our home and that he had to chew his portion?”  She laughed.  “I cannot imagine how cook could have made it without straining the almonds!”  Judge Darcy stopped walking and she looked up at him.  “Harding?”

“Nothing, dear.”  He forced a smile and hugged her.  “It is good to hear you laugh.”  

“Mother, Georgiana is looking for you?”  Samuel announced from the end of the gallery. 

“Oh yes, she wanted to show me a baby gown she had made.”  Susan kissed her husband’s cheek and smiling, patted Samuel’s arm as she passed. 

He waited for his father to join him and together they strolled down the gallery.  “She looks happy.”

Judge Darcy woke from his thoughts and cocked a brow at him.  “You make that sound almost threatening, Son.”

“Not at all, I just like seeing her happy.”  He sighed and his shoulders dropped.  “Forgive me.”

“No, do not apologize for being protective; just do not let it get the best of you.”  He spoke softly and seeing Samuel’s attention he continued, “It depends on what you are protecting, family is fine, but . . . pride, pride is tricky.”  He looked around at the faces of his ancestors.  “It takes a strong man to handle it properly.” 

“You make it sound like a vicious beast!” 

“And so it is.  It can rip out your heart and soul.”  He looked to his son and lifted his chin towards the door.  “Do not worry for your mother, she told me in no uncertain terms that she needs peace.  She wants me healthy, strong, happy, and . . . I know enough of her to say that what she says she wants for me is what she wants for herself.  She . . .
we
have spent far too much of our lives lost in the past and she begs that as a couple we look forward.  She wants to help me, but she is not strong enough to bear . . .” His head shook.  “Never mind.”

“Happy thoughts only for Mother.”

“Yes.”  He sighed.  “I wish that I could confide in her, but I understand why she asks that this time she is allowed her peace.  I respect that.”

“Sir . . . I know that I am not your peer, but . . . if you feel the need to express, to get something off your chest that you feel Mother does not need to hear.  I would be honoured if you would consider my . . .”  His voice drifted away. 

“Thank you, Son.”  Judge Darcy drew a deep breath and clasped his shoulder briefly.  “Thank you, but not right now.”

“Yes, sir.”  Samuel nodded and they walked in silence, not entirely comfortably, but at least together.  They entered a gallery filled with marble statues and the judge watched his son’s eyes, and started to chuckle.  “Father?”

“I am sorry, Samuel, you are as predictable as the rising of the sun every morning.  As soon as you entered here, your eyes landed on your first love.”  He walked forward and ran his hand over the smooth fine lines of a masterfully carved woman.  Samuel’s face crimsoned and his father laughed.  “I remember walking past this gallery and finding my brother standing at the door, holding in his guffaw.  We watched you caressing this beauty with awe and fascination.  I daresay you were quite enamoured of her?”  As Samuel’s face grew redder, his father laughed.  “Oh, that was a truly wonderful day.” 

“I . . . I was admiring the craftsmanship!”

“Of course you were, as all boys of thirteen do.”  Judge Darcy’s eyes twinkled and he looked ten years younger.  Samuel smiled sheepishly and touched the nude’s bare shoulder.   His father nudged him and pointed to another woman across the room.  “That was my girl.”

“You, too?”  Samuel laughed.  “What about William?” 

“Ah . . .  Well there is a certain lady in London for him.” 

“Not Elizabeth.”

“Well, things have vastly improved for your cousin; I think that you would agree?” 

“Absolutely.”  Samuel laughed and walked with him, mirroring him with his hands clasped behind his back.  “I am glad that you do, too.”

“TEA IN A BAG?”  Mrs. Hutchins huffed as she doubtfully cut two squares of cheesecloth and filled them with chamomile flowers.  “Are you certain this is what the mistress wants?” 

“Yes, Mrs. Hutchins, just let it brew for ten minutes and squeeze them out.  She said that cucumber or potato works, too, but that is such a waste of food.  She prefers tea to soothe her eyes.  I swear that she is a fount of knowledge that I only wish I possessed.  Mrs. Darcy says it comes from all of the reading she has done.”  Judy settled into a chair and watched the cook chewing her lip and tying up the little packets, then pouring boiling water over them. 

“I can read my cookery books sure enough, but I still can’t see what good this will do.”

“It should ease the puffiness and they are terribly sore.  She said that she does not want to frighten Mr. Darcy by looking like some nightmare come to life.  I believe her; the remedies she has found for alleviating his pain have been remarkable.  Why, he is moving with ease again, is he not, Mr. Parker?”  Judy looked to her counterpart at work at the ironing board.

“He is much improved.”  He agreed.  “This is the dangerous time, when he thinks he can do more than is sensible.  He was determined to carry the mistress over the threshold yesterday.”  He smiled when he saw Judy’s eyes roll.  “Who knew the master was such a romantic.”

“I think that he was just glad to bring her home.”  Mrs. Gaston watched the operation and took her own chair.  “Poor thing.  She was exhausted when they arrived, she must have been crying all night.  I remember when I heard that my Papa was dying.”

“I never knew mine.”  Mrs. Hutchins sniffed and poked at the soaking bags.  “He was killed when a horse kicked him and I was just a little thing.  Mama did not seem too broken up about it.  She always said, ‘never get involved with a man, they do you no good.’”   She wiped her eyes and turned back to her stove.  “I should have listened to her.”

Judy saw Mrs. Gaston frown and looked at her curiously. 
Later
she mouthed and pointed upstairs.  Judy nodded.  “Mr. Darcy’s face looked not so . . . terrible.”  Mrs. Gaston smiled when Sally sighed loudly.  “I imagine it was a far sight worse when it happened?”

“Hmm, he is coming along, coming along.  Shaving him is no longer a challenge.”  Parker finished pressing the newspaper and taking a cloth, wiped any ink from the iron.  “Now then, may I have Mr. Darcy’s coffee?”  He looked to Sally and folded the paper to set on a tray.  The girl brought the small pot and a cup, and a plate of lemon biscuits.  Parker nodded and carefully picking up the tray; started up the stairs.  At the top, he glanced around and spotted Lowry in the dining room.  “He is going to be asking.”

“I know.”  Lowry put down the silver teapot he was polishing and shook his head.  “Mrs. Hutchins is useless, all she does is moan and Mrs. Gaston cannot get an intelligible word out of her about the man.  She just cannot believe that her Mr. Christmas could have meant any harm to the master.”

“What do
you
remember of him?  I saw enough to know who he was.”

“I remember he was curious, curious about the household.”  Parker’s brows rose and Lowry disagreed.  “No, no, it was not inquiries about the contents or the habits, you know, things to hint at a robbery.  It was . . . the family.”

“The family?”  Parker asked and then lowered his voice as two maids passed.  “How so?”

“Well, he got to know their names and always asked after everyone’s health.  He commented on the good life they had.  I remember him asking what a young lady does to occupy her time with no work to do.  That struck me as odd, but then he said that he had never been on an estate and was curious what the girls do if there was no shopping close at hand.  Idle hands . . .”

“Well, there is something in that.”  Parker said grimly and seeing Lowry’s curiosity, he smiled, “Not that Mrs. Darcy fits that mould.”  The two men laughed.  “I had better deliver this while it is piping hot.”  He picked up the tray and walking back down the hallway, he entered Darcy’s study where he was sitting at his desk, examining a tattered book.  “Sir?”

“Oh, thank you.”  Darcy looked up and watched Parker pouring out the black liquid and adding a little milk. 

“Judy says that Mrs. Darcy is determined to join you, sir.”  Parker murmured and handed over the crisp newspaper.

“Of course she is.”  He said softly as he glanced at the sheet and put it aside. “How can we cheer her?”

“I think that you know that answer, sir, without any help from me.”  He poured out a little of his medicine and watched as Darcy swallowed down the tincture with a shudder.  “It does not improve with familiarity?”

“No.  If anything, it breeds contempt.  I should be able to ignore the taste by now.”  Darcy smiled and handed back the wine glass.  “But there is no denying I feel a thousand times better.” 

“Now that is the way to cheer the mistress, sir.”  Parker picked up the tray and stopped when Darcy lifted a finger. 

“What have you heard of Mr. Christmas?”

“Not as much as you had hoped.  While the colonel’s visit and inquiry certainly inspired great speculation, I am afraid that his ultimate delivery of the news made Mrs. Hutchins quite upset.”

“Richard . . .”  Darcy closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.  “The man has the tact of a raging lion.”

“Fine for the battlefield, but not so good for sensitive older women.”  Parker sighed.  “I am sorry, sir.  Mrs. Gaston has spoken with her privately and I understand that all she hears is wailing.  Lowry commented from his own memory that the man was most curious about the habits of Miss Darcy?”

“Miss Darcy?”  His eyes opened and his gaze sharpened. 

“Of course I could not ask what you really wanted to know, sir.  I am sorry, I . . . as soon as Lowry mentioned Christmas’s inquiries about how a privileged lady spends her time, my ears perked up.”

“Is that all?” 

“I am afraid so.  That, and the news that he always asked after the family and how you and Miss Darcy got along.  It was viewed as courteous since he was spending time in your kitchen.”

“Courtesy or he was looking for news of mood, my mood as my sister was not at home.”  Darcy rubbed his chin.  “He appeared, when?”

“Just after you received the note from Mrs. Younge that Miss Darcy had disappeared, within that week, I would say.”

“Almost as if . . . no not almost.  Mr. Christmas appeared at that time to inquire after the family because he wanted to know how I was reacting.”  Darcy’s eyes met those of his man.  “It almost sounds as if it was a kidnapping and they wanted a spy in our midst?  To measure our desperation and set a price?  But that hardly makes sense, we heard not a word for four months!  And then it was Wickham himself sending the word, albeit with a demand for money, but still . . . no, no, this is something else.  Georgiana said nothing of a partner or friend of Wickham’s . . . but then would she know?”  His brow creased as he became lost in thought once more.

“Judy tells me that Mrs. Darcy will interview Mrs. Hutchins herself.”  Parker nearly laughed to see the master’s face light up. 

“She will?”  Darcy smiled.  “Excellent.” 

“Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, no, thank you.”  He watched his man leave and picking up the cup, took a sip of his coffee.  “ahhh, that is good.”  He leaned back in the chair with his cup and stared at the landscape of Pemberley, painted from the exact spot where he had nearly died.  “This was my view.”  He murmured.  “All of those hours of semi-consciousness, when I opened my eyes, this was exactly what I saw, and what I would have seen as I took my last breath.” 

Shaking off the thought, he set down the cup and drew forward the Bennet family Bible.  Turning the pages, he found the names of generations of Bennets, and traced his finger down to the last group.  “There you are, my Elizabeth Rose.”  To his surprise, he saw that Mr. Bennet had written the date of her marriage and Darcy’s name and estate.  He read that and nodded, acknowledging both the pain and pride that had to go into that notation.  Beside it, he saw that Mary’s wedding had been noted as well.  “And soon Bingley.”  His friend would be arriving in London with Hurst that afternoon to prepare the settlement papers.  “Well, we will be brothers one day.  You, my friend, I can abide.”  His sister’s face came to mind and he paused.  “Thank God I do not have Wickham as my brother.  That puts a whole new light on Collins.”