Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (96 page)

“Mother, I am so sorry, I did not know.” 

“No, why should you?  You were a baby.”  She smiled and took his hand.  “We improved with time, but certain things will send your father spiralling back down into that darkness again, and it takes such effort to crawl back out.  I fear that is where he is now.  With Georgiana’s disappearance, it was like we had lost our babies all over again.  Harding was mourning her even as he frantically searched for her.”  She swallowed back her emotion and Samuel squeezed her hand.  “After we finally recovered from our children dying, I realized that he needed me to love him out of these dark times, and since then I was always successful, but with Georgiana, he will not let me come to him.  It is almost as if he is punishing himself for something.  He will not let me help him.  I know that I could Samuel; I know that if he let me love him, he would be himself again.  He truly is a wonderful, dear man.  I love him so very much.” 

“Mother . . .” Samuel stood and came around the table to embrace her.  She sniffed and patted his shoulder.  “I was going to speak with William about Father.  I think that we need to bring him home.  I think that . . . he is ill.  I thought that the courts were becoming too much for him, but you are correct, it is all since Georgiana disappeared and then learning her fate . . .”   He hugged her and closed his eyes.  “Would you object to me writing to Father and . . . telling him that you are unwell?”  

Susan looked up at him.  “Lie?”

“Would it be a lie, Mother?”  He said softly.  “You are ill pining for him, just as he broods and is ill in his way.  You have looked after Georgiana since she returned, and I believe that part of the reason you stay away from Pemberley now is because as much as you love her, you need to breathe again.”

“That sounds so terrible.” 

“It is true, though.”  He kissed her cheek and sat back down.  “Will you let me write to Father?”  Their eyes met and she nodded.  “Good.  And I will go speak to William.”  He smiled.  “Everything will be right again, Mama.”

“Mama.”  She smiled indulgently.  “Thank you, Sammy.” 

Standing, he bent to kiss her again.  “You are welcome.”

“IS IT SO UNREASONABLE?”  Wickham demanded.

“He said he would send word if the plan changed.”  Christmas said stubbornly.

“But he was clearly ill when he made the demand.  Didn’t you see that?  What harm could come of it?”

“My brother could wind up dead, that’s what!”  

“If he’s been sitting in Newgate nearly a year he is probably half dead already!” 

Christmas glared.  “I’ve been feeding him.”

“It takes more than food to survive that hell hole.”  Wickham muttered.  “All I am asking is to confirm the order.  Just . . . ask.  I have never killed anyone.  Swindled, stolen . . . ravished . . . but kill?  Never.  I have never so much as fought anyone.”  He sighed.  “I do not want to do this if I do not have to.”

“You should have thought of that before you ran off with her . . .”

“I know, I know . . .  It is all my fault.”  Holding his head in his hands, he tried once more.  “You haven’t killed either.”

“I’ve come close.”

“That’s not the same and you know it.  Ask your brother if you don’t believe me.  He was given his sentence for a reason.”  Wickham met his eye and swearing, Christmas went out the door and slammed it shut behind him.  “I hope that you got that letter, Darcy.”  He went to the window and seeing Christmas striding off down the street, he pulled uselessly on the chain shackling him to the wall.  “I think we are heading your way.”

“YOU WALKED HERE!”  Susan smiled and poured some tea out for Elizabeth.  “How did you ever convince Fitzwilliam to do that?”

“Oh it was no trouble at all, he was eager to just walk and talk.  It is only a mile; I walked that nearly daily to Meryton and back with my sisters.  Besides, we both need the exercise.  I suspect that Fitzwilliam would appreciate some fencing with Samuel to vent his frustrations.”

“Then I will not panic when I hear the sound of steel coming from the study?”  Susan laughed along with Elizabeth. 

“No, no, I would not worry at all.  Although they might be better off in the ballroom at Pemberley rather than knocking down the decoration in that room.”  She settled back with her cup and smiled at the bouquet of dried flowers decorating the table.  “What a lovely arrangement!”

“Oh, thank you!”  Susan fussed with it, “I had nearly forgotten the cuttings I made in September.  I have not been a resident of this home since Georgiana returned.”  Her smile faded and she touched the wild carrot.

“I love that flower.”  Elizabeth watched her curiously, “It looks like lace.  My sister Jane and I used to put cuttings in our hair, pretending that we were . . . oh, fancy ladies attending a ball.”  Susan smiled and continued to look at the flower.  “My mother was very keen for us to collect the seeds, I never understood why, she would chew them, but then I remember she started brewing them into a tea of sorts.”

“Yes, I did that for a while.”

“Why?  She would never explain it to me, it must do some good.  She claimed it was to calm her nerves.”  Elizabeth laughed.

“It prevents pregnancy.”  Susan said quietly.  “A cup of tea each day, but particularly after intercourse.  If only Georgiana had known.”

“Oh my!”  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide.  “But . . . why would Mama not want to try again?  All she ever talked about was how we would be sent to live in the hedgerows because there was no heir.”  She thought of her mother actively seeking to prevent a pregnancy then the image of her parents sharing the same intimacy as she did with Darcy flashed in her mind.  
Oh my.
 

“After five girls she might have been afraid to try again and have another daughter to support.”  Susan touched the flower.  “That would certainly calm her nerves.”

“Yes . . . I can imagine that being true.  If only I had known of this.  Fitzwilliam and I . . .”

“Are you still abstaining?”

“No . . . no, not any longer.”  Elizabeth blushed.  “Does . . . can you still have children if you stop?”

“Yes.”  Susan smiled.  “It is something that ladies use after they have tired of bearing children, or just need to rest before the next one.  My grandmother told me about it long ago.  It is a very old method.”

“Why have I never heard of it?”

“Oh, the church, the doctors . . . the change in views, the desire to keep ladies ignorant, who knows?”  Patting her hand, Susan smiled.  “I will write it down for you to keep.”

“And I will gather seeds to keep for someday.  After I have given Fitzwilliam his tenth child.”   She laughed when Susan shook her head.  “He is so eager to start a family.”

“Is he?”  She paused and tilted her head.  “How will he feel being father to Georgiana’s baby?”

“I do not know.”  Putting down her teacup, she sighed.  “I fear that it will take some time to grow on him, but . . . I do not know.  I cannot envision him rejecting the child, not after how hard he has tried to protect Georgiana and of course, marrying me.” 

“No.”  Susan stood and closed the door, then resumed her seat.  “Let me tell you a story . . .”

“IF HE IS THAT ILL, would not his valet have contacted one of you?  Especially you, being in and out of the house so often and living nearby, there is no excuse for keeping you in the dark.”

“I do not know.  There is some code of conduct amongst the servants, I understand, about protecting their family?”

“Are you not part of the family?”  Darcy’s hand waved.  “I would think that you qualified.”

“So do I.  Perhaps because I was so often in his company they did not feel the need to keep me abreast of his condition.  Honestly, Darcy, how aware were you of your father’s situation?  You were the age I am now when he died.” 

Darcy’s eyes closed and nodding, he sank down onto a chair.  “It is very well possible that his man was ordered not to tell you anything.  Father’s valet found a position with one of our neighbours after his death.  I rode over to speak to him a few days ago, just to confirm the news that Uncle had told me.   It was all true; Father had suffered for some time with chest pains and a myriad of symptoms.  And of course, I was not to be worried about it.”  He looked up to find his cousin with the same exasperated look on his face that he was feeling.  “Well, lesson learned, when we have children we should be honest with our health concerns.”  The thought of Mr. Bennet hiding his condition from Elizabeth crossed his mind and he blew out his cheeks.  “So . . . very well then.”  He cleared his throat.  “We will assume that your father is suffering from some . . . condition and according to your mother it is likely one of long-standing that worries her deeply since, of course, she understands it far better than she will ever explain to you.  Rather than sending off a letter trying to encourage him to return, why not do the better thing and send your mother?”

“She has practically begged him for permission to come; I have brought up the subject . . .”

“So?  I cannot see any order from me stopping Elizabeth from following her heart.”  Darcy laughed and creased his brow when his cousin sighed.  “Fine, I am a different husband and she is a different wife.  Nonetheless, we are agreed the man is ill and not thinking clearly.  Would a healthy man refuse the love of his life coming to shower him with affection and care?  I certainly would not refuse any offer of attention from Elizabeth.  I would welcome it with open arms, even if it was nothing more than a pat on my head.”  He smiled and his eyes twinkled when Samuel’s head shook.  “I have experienced a taste of my wife’s care when I am ill, it is rather pleasant.”

“You were undoubtedly a pleasant patient.”

“Hmm, something to remember in that.”  Darcy sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.  “I will write some letters to the inns and we will get this travel arranged.  I know that it means you would return to Town weeks sooner than you intended, but it is for a good cause.” 

“An excellent one.  And perhaps we can convince Father to come back here?” 

“If you and your mother do not succeed, then I will have a crack at him when we come in February.  I agree, it is time for him to come home.  I would love to have my uncle here.” 

“Yes.”  Samuel said softly.  “I cannot quite decide if I am better off with him here or London.”

“He is extraordinarily proud of you.” 

“It is amazing how you know what I am thinking.”  He laughed when Darcy shrugged.  “Perhaps we
are
twins, as your sweet wife claims.”

“Funny you should mention that,” Darcy stood and pushed his chair under the table.  “She said last night that upon close examination, my face has great character.”  He lifted his chin to the reflection in a nearby mirror.

“And she likes character.  Or she likes examining you?”  Samuel’s lips pursed when Darcy’s cheeks coloured.  “You brought it up, Cousin.” 

“I did.”  Darcy bit his lip and cocked his brow.  “Did you know that the attorney in Lambton is hoping to retire?”  Samuel started.  “He has a few clerks but none of them are capable or qualified to take over.  He is hoping to move to the seaside, so a house goes with it.”

“A house
and
a law practice?”  He stood and gaped.

“He thought that he would take on an eager young man, well-qualified of course, and teach him everything that he needs to know and then, in a few years when he is assured that this young man is capable and accepted by the townspeople . . . sell him the practice.  He would be looking for a good faith payment to hold, a deposit if you will.  He would not want to train the gentleman only to see him leave.”

“That is . . . that is precisely what I hoped to have one day . . .”

“I know.”  Darcy was pleased to see his dumbfounded reaction.  “Lord Matlock asked me to fund repayment of the debts Gladney has created through his behaviour and I refused.  This, however, is something that I would be honoured to finance.  I know that you do not have a tenth of what is needed, and I know that it might be uncomfortable asking your father for help.  But if this is something that you want, I would be very glad to do this for you.  I can easily give you the deposit and if it is needed, I will be happy to purchase the practice for you when the time comes.”

“Darcy . . . I . . . I do not know what to say!”  Samuel took his hand and shook it fervently.  “I will sign a paper; I will pay you back, monthly, every penny, I . . . My God!”  He pinched back the tears that appeared in his eyes and Darcy found himself doing the same.  The two looked at each other and laughed. 

“I am glad Elizabeth is not here to comment.”  Darcy took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes.  “Well,” he cleared his throat, “Mr. Mayfield said to come in anytime for a drink and a conference.  I talked up your qualifications, but he wants to have a look at you.”

“You told him I would come?”  Samuel put his handkerchief away and grinned.

“I had great faith in your good sense.  And I know how much you want to leave London behind.  Derbyshire is in your blood, you need to come home.”  Darcy clasped his shoulder.  “Now, let us work on doing the same for your father.”

“WHAT IS THAT?”  Elizabeth pointed to a curl of smoke in the distance.

“That is the Benson’s home.  Remember them from our visit on Boxing Day?”  Darcy squeezed her fingers and they swung their hands as they strolled back to Pemberley. 

“Everything looks so different from this perspective, walking, not riding, I mean.”  She smiled and leaned on his shoulder.  “Will I ever know my way around here?”

“You will know every rock and tree, just as I do.”  He looked to her upturned face and kissed her.  “And our people will know and love you.” 

“Such confidence you have!” 

“If they can tolerate me, they will rejoice in you.”

“Oh my, flattery, what are you about Mr. Darcy?  What did you plot with your cousin behind that door?” 

“His future.”  Darcy shrugged and looked around him with a satisfied smile.  “He has always wanted to be a country lawyer, and now he has that opportunity.”

“Thanks to you.”

“mmmm.”

“But I thought that he did not like the country?”