Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (41 page)

“It is quite all right, Mrs. Reynolds, I am sure all of us had hopes that Mr. Darcy would choose wisely.  I am glad that Mrs. Gaston does not look down on Mr. Darcy’s wife for her lower status in comparison to him.  I hope that the staff at Pemberley will be just as kind.”

“Yes, Madam.”  She whispered and hiding behind the sheets, continued the reading, “I spoke to the girl we took on for her, Judy Orchard, you remember, the sister of that girl you sent down to us last year?  And she was determined to dress her new mistress well.  She asked if we might see if Miss Georgiana’s dresses fit her and she could wear them while her new gowns were made.  They are not the dresses of a married woman, but they are very fine, so we visited the closets and selected a few to adjust as the mistress is a mite smaller than Miss Georgiana . . .”

“They are taking my dresses!”  Georgiana cried.  “First she takes my brother and now my dresses!”

“Perhaps I should stop?”  Mrs. Reynolds looked at Susan worriedly.

“No.”  Susan turned to Georgiana.  “You have never had to share.  Mrs. Darcy has four sisters, I understand.  To her this is second nature, and she is sharing with her new sister.”  Turning back to Mrs. Reynolds, she nodded.  “Please go on.”

“That is all, madam.  Mrs. Gaston says that they have plans to attend the theatre next week but he wishes to take her around to see as many sights in Town as they can, and go shopping a bit.  They will call on Judge Darcy before leaving for Pemberley.”  She folded the letter.  “I hope that you are not upset with her news, I thought it would bring happiness.”

“It does.”  Susan assured her.  “Sometimes change is difficult to accept, especially when we have not met the lady.  Is that not correct, Georgiana?”

“Yes.”  She said softly.  “Forgive me.” 

“Of course.”  Susan patted her hand.  “Now why not plan a wonderful Christmas celebration?  Is that not what Fitzwilliam suggested?”  Georgiana nodded and Susan sighed.  “Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.” 

“Yes, madam.”  She left the room, and talked to herself as she walked, “I hope that our new mistress has the knack for cheering sisters that she has for cheering the master.  What has happened to that girl?”

Back in the parlour Georgiana waited for Mrs. Reynolds’ footsteps to fade, and then burst out angrily, “I hate her!”

Susan stared.  “Who?”

“That . . . woman my brother married!  Look what she has done to him!  It is her fault he did not come home to me!  He left and she . . . she . . . she used her wiles on him!  If it was not for her he would have come back right away and taken care of me!”

“Georgiana, that is not why he stayed away, and you know it.”  Susan said quietly.  “We have been over this.”

“She is improper!”  Georgiana cried.  “Teasing him!  No proper lady teases a gentleman!  I never teased my husband!  And laughing!”  She stood and walked around the room.  “It is unbecoming to laugh out loud, and it proves how terrible an influence she is if she is making my brother act so strangely!  She does not respect him!  He is important and . . . and he is the Master of Pemberley!  You do not tease the Master of Pemberley!”

Susan tried to understand her niece’s emotions.  “Are you jealous?”

“I . . . I am not . . . I . . .” Her lip began to tremble.  “He is smiling and laughing with her!”

Susan stood and took her hand.  “I have heard you speak more today than you have since you returned home.   I know that your new sister frightens you; she is someone intruding into your comfortable home just when you are feeling safe again and you are fighting it, but you do trust your brother to make the best choices for you.  Do you doubt him?”

“Of course not, but you heard Mrs. Gaston!  She is a gentlewoman but not of our station!  She is not worthy to marry him, she does not belong here.”

“She belongs here just as much as you do.” 

“I know.”  Georgiana whispered, and ran from the room.

“WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?”  Darcy said softly as they walked the rooms of the British Museum and entered the Townsend gallery.  Elizabeth drew her hand along one of the marble sculptures and smiled. 

“They are beautiful.  Everything here is beautiful.” 

“Have you never visited?”  She shook her head and looked up to him.  “I remember Father taking me to Mr. Townsend’s home on Park Street to see the collection before he died and they were moved here.  We walked.”  Darcy smiled with the memory and pointed to the sculpture of a woman wearing only a robe around her waist.  “That was my first sight of a woman’s body.  I did not know what to do with myself.  My father said when we walked home that it took everything he had not to burst out laughing when he saw how wide my eyes became.”  Peeking at her he saw her eyes sparkle and her lips pursing back a smile.  Placing his hand over hers, he gave it a squeeze.    His smile faded when Elizabeth’s gaze travelled from his face to a sculpture of a nude man reclining on a couch.  Darcy quickly saw that he wore no tastefully placed robe, and Elizabeth’s attention was centred exactly where he did not want her to look.  Clearing his throat, he hurried her past.  “Have you seen the library?  Or the coins?”

“I have never been here before, Fitzwilliam.”  She reminded him and smiled as he quickly steered them from the room and came to a halt before the Rosetta Stone.  After a long pause, she broke the silence.  “It is fascinating.  I wonder what it means.” 

Darcy stood stiffly and darted a look at her.  “I do not know.” 

“You did not like the sculpture?” Nudging him, she laughed softly when his grip tightened.  “You cannot be jealous of a piece of marble.”

“Yes, I can.” 

“Oh, Will.”  Briefly she touched her head to his shoulder and he relaxed a little. 

“I like that name.”  Darcy whispered. 

“I know that some of your family calls you William, but I want a name all for myself.”  Elizabeth smiled when he entwined their fingers, and suddenly having an idea, she looked at him mischievously.  “Shall we go look at the paintings?  I think I read once that many classical depictions of battles were in the collection, perhaps there will be more well-dressed gentlemen like the one in the sculpture!  They only seemed to wear helmets . . .” 

“Lizzy . . .” 

“Except they are not life-sized . . .” 

“Lizzy, please . . .”

“I remember Miss Bingley mentioning the sculptures at Pemberley, are there any warriors there to admire?  Or is it just ladies?  Shall we purchase some fabric to drape over them?  I cannot have your attention distracted from me.”  Darcy shot her a look and his lips twitched as his eyes began to twinkle. 

“There you are, dear.”  Elizabeth whispered.  “We are even, I think.”

“Barely.”  Darcy kissed her fingers and replaced her hand on his arm. 

“Darcy!”  They were approached by a distinguished man escorting a young woman who seemed a few years Elizabeth’s elder.  “This is a pleasant surprise; we did not expect to see you again until spring.  We were disappointed when you left so early this Season.”  He smiled and cast a quizzical eye over Elizabeth, noting that no chaperone appeared to be in attendance, and turned to his companion.  “Were we not, my dear?  You remember my daughter, Rosamond?”

Darcy had stiffened and his face was blank.  “Yes, of course, Miss Dryden, it is a pleasure to see you.  May I introduce my wife, Elizabeth?  Mrs. Darcy, this is Mr. Dryden and his daughter.  They are neighbours of ours.”

“Mr. Dryden, Miss Dryden, I am glad to meet you.”  Elizabeth smiled and curtsied, and inwardly registered their astonishment with Darcy’s news.  Rosamond looked her up and down, and Elizabeth was grateful she was wearing Georgiana’s beautiful coat over the simple gown she had chosen.  Lifting her chin she gripped her husband’s arm.  “Are you taking refuge from the cold weather in the museum today as well?”

“Oh, yes.”  Rosamond startled and pulled her eyes from the ring that showed through Elizabeth’s glove.  “Pardon me, but when did you marry?  I do not recall seeing a notice in the papers?”

“It will be published today, I think.”  Darcy said quietly.  “We married on Saturday.” 

Elizabeth smiled up to him.  “The happiest day of my life.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Darcy.”  He smiled gently back to her.  “I feel the same.”

“Well . . .” Mr. Dryden cleared his throat.  “Well, my wife will surely be paying you a call next week, Mrs. Darcy.  We must let the newlyweds have a little time on their own, Rosamond.  So on that note, I wish you both joy and we will remove ourselves.”  Bowing he noticed his daughter was staring at Darcy, whose gaze was on Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth spoke with all of the confidence she could muster.  “I will be happy to meet Mrs. Dryden, sir.  Miss Dryden, I hope to know you better as well.” 

“Oh, yes . . . of course.  Good day.”  She curtseyed and looking again at Darcy, she spoke to him.  “Good day, Mr. Darcy.” 

“Miss Dryden.”  He nodded stiffly.  Father and daughter moved away and he remained uncomfortable.  “Thank you, dear Elizabeth.” 

“The first of many?”  Elizabeth said softly.  “She had hopes?”

“Seemingly.”  He looked to the floor.  “Elizabeth . . .  I danced with her a few times over the years, it was nothing . . . I did not encourage her, I was polite, she is . . . I . . .”

“Fitzwilliam, do not worry.  If you had wanted her or any one of them you would have been married already.  Long before this crisis with your sister arose.”  She smiled bravely.  “Is that not so?”

Darcy paused, he knew that she sought reassurance, but he had to be honest.  “I do not know.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Dearest, my father died when I was two and twenty, very suddenly, shockingly so.  It was as if he had been struck by the hand of God, it was ugly and frightening.  He woke that morning full of vigour and hours later, surrounded by family he was . . . he died.”  Elizabeth’s hand was pressed to her mouth, and searching the space, he led her into the quiet library and found them some seats in a corner.  Darcy rubbed his hands together and shook his head.  “I was too overwhelmed with the estate and my duties to really pay much attention to women.  I came to Town for a little while each Season, to see friends and to expose my sister to the masters, but while the families courted me, I tried to hold myself aloof.  Honestly, this summer I had only begun to think that I had better begin choosing someone, so I danced a little more than I had in the past.” 

“And raised hopes in the process?”

“Yes, I imagine.”  He looked up at her.  “But as you say, if I had wanted any of them I would have made my intentions known.  None struck me as,” he smiled shyly, “none bewitched me like you.” 

“Mr. Darcy.  Your tongue is improving.”  Elizabeth smiled and his grew.  “Well done.”

Darcy chuckled and looked back at his hands.  “Thank you.”

“I will remember that you were the prey, and not the other way around.” 

“I will remind you of that when we meet the next lady.” 

“Oh, when you feel my claws come out?”  Laughing, she rose and held out her hand.  “Well, that is not such a bad idea, although I am rather proud of my admirable performance.”  Darcy smiled and nodding, stroked her ring through her glove.  Taking a breath, she took in the beautiful library.  “Is Pemberley like this?”

“Very much, although smaller, there are a few collections here.  But Pemberley’s library is the work of generations.  You will love it, I know.”  Hooking arms, they left the room and walked towards the entrance, agreeing wordlessly that it was time to go.  “What shall we see next?  Shall we go shopping?”

“Do you enjoy shopping?  I cannot imagine you wasting time peeking in windows.”  Elizabeth’s head tilted.  “Books?”

“My weakness.”  Darcy confessed sheepishly.  “And perhaps a new hat for you as well as a few books?”

“A new hat?”  She smiled widely.  “I cannot imagine the inspiration for that request, so you will have to tell me.”

The colour rose on his pale cheeks but he looked her dead on.  “Bonnets are . . . impediments to your eyes.” 

“I cannot see well with a bonnet on?”

“No, love.  I cannot see your eyes when you are wearing one, and I have learned very quickly that I need to see your eyes if I am to,” a slow smile appeared, “keep rein of my tongue.” 

“Ah, I see.”  She shot him a look.  “Cheater.”

“I use what tools I have.”  He lifted his chin and stared ahead as they walked.

“Obviously your brain is not one of them.”

“I do not pretend to understand the mind of a woman, nor will I attempt to.”

“It seems to me that you are making that attempt.”

“You are a special case.  It is in my best interest to attempt to understand something of you.”

“I thought that you wanted to know all of me?”

Darcy leaned down and spoke into her ear.  “I
do
want to know
all
of you, dearest.  And I want you to know
all
of me.  Most intimately, most frequently, most vigorously.” 

Elizabeth remained silent, blushing furiously and keeping her head down.  Darcy’s lips twitched and he gently rubbed his thumb over her ring. 

“Not fair.” 

“I notice that you take delight in torturing me, I shall do the same to you.”  They exchanged glances and walked on, down the steps and into the streets of Bloomsbury.  “There is the carriage.”  He noted.

“Send it home.  We need a refreshing and calming walk in this lovely cold air.” 

He frowned.  “We do not walk the streets, Elizabeth.”

“Why not?  Did you not speak proudly of walking with your father?”  She looked around.  “There are crowds of people, most fashionable people walking about here.”

“Here is the key word, not here to there.  A stroll one street away from our residence is one thing, but a walk from Bloomsbury to Mayfair is quite another for people of our station, it is not done.  Besides it may not be safe.  The streets are dirty, waste is everywhere . . .” Seeing her look speculatively at the fine houses around them, he sighed. “Pickpockets abound.” 

“I have nothing.  Only you.”

“Lizzy . . .” Completely at a loss, he had the odd sensation that her delicate hands were gently at work moulding him, and his resistance was very low at that moment.  “Why do I envision a lifetime of doing things at your behest that will turn my parents in their grave and my hair prematurely white?”  The frown remained but he lifted his hand, signalling his coachman to return home.  They watched the carriage pull away and he found her warm eyes on him.  They were sparkling softly and despite his enjoyment of the sight, he had to strike back at her silent declaration of triumph.  “Very well, Mrs. Darcy, we are walking in the cool air.  I suppose it is not too far for a woman used to walking three miles over hill and dale, but I think you might find the exertion quite warming, rather at cross purposes to your plan.  I give in only because we are walking to Mayfair.”