Memory: Volume 1, Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (5 page)

Elizabeth heard the gaiety and rolled her eyes at Jane.  “I give up.”

“You can never do that, Lizzy.  There is hope for all of us.”  She smiled and went back to her needlework.  “Now play me that new tune you have been practicing.”

“You are too good, Jane.  Have you ever had a vindictive thought for anyone?”

“mmm, no.”  Jane laughed and Elizabeth shook her head. “Come on now; impress me with your skill.  Pretend that I am Mr. Darcy.”  She giggled to see the warm smile that appeared on her sister’s face.  “Ah, so that is the secret, just mention your sweetheart and all is right with the world.” 

“He is hardly my sweetheart do not tease me, Jane!  I will never see him again and if Mama heard any of this conversation she would be wringing her hands and lamenting how I did not catch him, and what a failure I am again.”  Elizabeth whispered furiously.

“I am sorry Lizzy; I did not mean to make you unhappy.”  Jane patted her shoulder.  “No more talk of men, now play for me.”

“It is awful, I warn you.”  She said honestly and set out the sheets.

“That is why you are practicing.”  Jane laughed, and listened as the tune was slowly played, and clapped loudly as it finished.  “It is better.”

“I would rather be outdoors.”  Elizabeth turned to her.  “Why do you think that Mr. Darcy’s eyes were so sad?”

“I do not know, Lizzy.”

She stood up and leaned on the window frame and stared pensively out at the fading garden.  “I hope that he is well.” 

DARCY SAT UPON his jet black stallion at the top of the hillside and looked down into the valley.  Below him was Pemberley House, its stone edifice blending perfectly and naturally with the background of trees behind it.  The lake, formed long ago by another Darcy damning a stream sparkled in the bright sunshine.  He took a deep breath of the clean fresh air and relaxed.  He always found peace here on this precipice.  His mount shifted and he unconsciously moved with the animal, readjusting his weight and not once breaking his gaze over what he knew would soon be his land.  He sighed and then turned when another horse whinnied behind him. 

“Father!” 

Mr. Darcy smiled slightly, and slowly guided his horse to his son’s side.  His colour was terrible, his body, simultaneously wasted and swollen, was slumped, and his breathing very laboured, but his eyes retained a look of fierce determination to make this, obviously final, ride over his land.  “I thought we should share this view together.”  He said then squeezed his eyes shut, and reaching for the flask containing the pain killer the apothecary supplied, swallowed a dose.  Darcy noted that what had once been an occasional drink had, over the past three months, become a nearly constant companion.  His father grimaced.  “Terrible taste, even wine does nothing to mask what it is.”  He coughed and clutched his stomach, then drawing a deep breath straightened, and met Darcy’s worried gaze.  “It will not be long.”

“Please do not say that, Father.”

“No Son, I pray for it now.”  He smiled.  “I am ready, as are you.”  He held up his hand to stop the inevitable protest.  “You have learned well.  I was correct; you did already know everything; you have observed me for years.  I have no doubt over your abilities to carry on.  It will be difficult for a little while, but you will do well.  Be proud of your name, Fitzwilliam!  Remember, you are a Darcy!  For hundreds of years our family has owned and tended and coaxed this land to bear its fruit.  We made this land what it is.  We are not titled, but we are great, and any who hear our name respect it, as they should.  You must treat it with care, Son.  Protect it, and when you have your family, teach your sons to be proud of it as well.  Carry on the tradition as I have, make this land rich for generations to come.”

Darcy’s chest swelled to hear his father’s speech.  “I will Father, I will not let you down.”

He nodded and coughed again.  “Look after your sister, I trust her to you.”

“She will be cared for Father, I promise.”  He said softly.

“And do not forget what I said of your choice for a wife.”  Darcy looked at him in confusion, trying to remember his words.  Mr. Darcy coughed harder and gasped.  “Take me home, Son.”

Darcy grabbed the reins and turning the horses, he slowly guided them back to the stables.  Within an hour, Mr. Darcy lay in his bed.  Georgiana was brought to his side and sobbing, received a last kiss and pat on her cheek.  Her governess led her away, leaving Darcy alone to sit by his father’s bedside, grasping his hand and listening to his laboured breathing and the ticking of the clock.  He knew not how long he waited, wishing to ask so many questions and realizing that the time for that had passed.  The curtains were drawn, and the room was shadowed.  He felt his father’s hand grow increasingly cold and he tried to stop his own from trembling as he felt the life ebb away.  Finally the time came when the pounding of his heart was louder than the sound of the rare breaths, and then that was all that remained.  He waited and listened, there was nothing.  The clock ticked, but time stood still.  George Darcy was dead, and Fitzwilliam was alone.

2 OCTOBER 1807

We attended the assembly last night, and had such a good time!  I danced five times with boys of the neighbourhood.  They were nice enough but did not have much to say.  I liked Mr. Hugus the best, but Mama said that he was not good enough for any of her girls and shooed him away.  I asked Papa why she would discourage him, and he explained that since he was a tradesman, a marriage to a gentlewoman, even one with little dowry, would be a great step upwards for him.  That is when I realized that his smiles for me were not those of admiration, but of opportunity.  It seems that love is a notion for novels and poets, and a business for everyone else. I suppose that is why Mama married Papa, I cannot think of any other reason.

Poor Charlotte only danced twice.  She is very discouraged, but she is only two and twenty, and has plenty of time to find a husband.  I felt so terribly when Mama spoke of her as plain to Aunt Philips!  I wish she would keep her views to herself, or at least learn to whisper more softly!

Jane danced every set, of course.  Dear Jane, she will be sure to marry soon.  I hope that she finds a man as good and kind as she is.  Lydia and Kitty were sorely disappointed that they were not allowed to attend, but after seeing the frivolity of the evening, I am glad that they were not there, I cannot imagine what sort of mischief they would have found!  Mary was glad to remain at home.  I am sure that she spent her time playing every ponderous song she knew on the pianoforte since Mama was not here to chastise her!

Elizabeth smiled at the thought of Mary delighting in her chance to play in peace, then closed her journal and sighed, and looked out the window at the falling leaves.  She suddenly felt melancholy and was not sure why. 

At the same moment, Darcy stopped his pensive leaning on the window frame and looked down at the black armband he wore, then sat down in the chair behind the great mahogany desk in his father’s, now his, study.  He looked upon the miniatures of his mother and sister, then up to see a portrait of Guillaume d’Arcy, the ancestor who had come with the Normans and William the Conqueror from France and was the father of Darcys in Britain.  He drew a deep breath and fought back the emotion he felt, hearing his father’s words in his mind that last day, only a week ago.  “Remember, you are a Darcy!”  He opened his journal and began to write.

2 October 1807

The week of public mourning is over, and at last Pemberley is free of visitors.  The distraction of people was good for a time, but I am happier now to be alone with my thoughts.  Georgiana is lost and only seems to stop her weeping when Aunt Helen holds her.  I was so grateful that Aunt Catherine did not come; I believe that she would have upset her more.  I only learned yesterday that Aunt Catherine had written to Georgiana saying that she would take her away to live at Rosings.  I would never allow that, but I am afraid that it has frightened her terribly.  I will write to our aunt to ask her to desist.  I am certain that she will; she wishes to curry my favour.  Uncle Henry said that he had received an express from her already asking when I would wed Anne.  The thought of marriage is hardly uppermost in my mind, least of all to Anne. 

Darcy sat back in the chair and set down the pen.  He had been stoic and strong over the past days.  George Darcy was an exceptional man; no further proof was needed than the scores of men who came to bid their last respects.  Numbly Darcy shook countless hands, putting faces to names he had previously known only through letters.  Each one had an anecdote, speaking of a time when his father had aided them or given advice.  And others came with stories of his mother.  For some reason those were even more painful to hear.  It was the child who lost his mother and never understood why she left him so suddenly who received them.  It had taken every bit of his willpower to stand and listen without emotion.  Like a man.  And now he was alone in the silent house, Georgiana gone away with their aunt and uncle, and still he could not grieve, he was a Darcy, he must be strong. 

Slowly he turned back the pages of his journal, reading his thoughts over the past three months, until he found the entry for that first day, when he had learned the news.  He read it over and felt that first wave of shock flow over him again, then read of the girl, and heard her laugh, and closed his eyes, remembering the warmth in hers. 
What are you doing now, Lizzy of Longbourn
?

A knock startled him from his thoughts.  “Come.”

“Mr. Wickham is waiting to speak to you, sir.  I was not sure if you were receiving visitors . . .”  Mrs. Reynolds paused, she knew of the men’s animosity towards each other, having witnessed or heard of Wickham’s cruelty to the young Mr. Darcy enough times over the years.

“Send him in, Mrs. Reynolds.”   He said tersely.  Watching her go he sat up in his chair, and remained seated when his beaming
friend
entered the room.  He glanced at the extended hand and kept his fingers laced.  “What brings you here, Wickham?”

“Well well, only a week and your new power has quite gone to your head, Darcy!”  Wickham smirked and took a seat across from him.  “I have come for my inheritance.”

“My father is barely cold and you come here demanding . . .”

“No more than any creditor does to a widow the moment they hear their pigeon has died.”  He laughed at Darcy’s frown.  “Come now, I know that I have been left something, what is it?”

“A thousand pounds,” he ignored the sound of disappointment from the ungrateful leech, “And when the living at Kympton Parish becomes available, and
If
you take holy orders, you will receive that position.”

“The church?”  Wickham said in surprise.  “
When
it comes available?  When might that be?”

Darcy shrugged.  “I have not heard any news of the pastor wishing to retire.  I cannot remove him from the position without cause and he has served competently for years.  You may have years to wait.”

“Here now Darcy, I will not wait around for years to get my due!”  Wickham grew infuriated with the impenetrable mask that had slipped over Darcy’s face.  “What is your game?”

“There is no game; this is the condition of the will.  The thousand pounds should last quite some time if you are prudent.”

“You do not want me to have this living.  I am sure of it.”  Wickham rubbed his jaw and regarded him closely, trying to see a crack in the visage and failed.  “Look, I do not wish to be a pastor any more than you want me to be a pastor.  I want to study law.  What do you say if you give me the value of the living now, and I will relinquish any further claim.”

Darcy contained his satisfaction.   “And the value?”

“Ten thousand.”

“Are you insane?”  He laughed.  “I will offer you three, not a pound more.  And you will sign papers certifying that you have relinquished it.”

“Five.”

“My, what a precipitous drop.  Three.  Do not attempt to claim more.”  The men’s eyes locked, and Wickham was the one who looked away.

“It seems that I have no reason to complain of such an arrangement.  Very well then, agreed.”

Darcy leaned forward and drove his finger into the desktop, “After this transaction is completed, I never want to see you on my property again.  Is that clear, Wickham?”

Wickham’s eyes narrowed.  “Perfectly clear, old friend.”

Chapter 3

25 December 1807

It is Christmas Day and precisely three months ago our father died.  This was never a day of great celebration in the past, and I told our family that there was no reason to make the trip now.  They protested, but I remained firm.  We will have a dinner and perhaps Georgiana will play for me.  I wonder if I am doing enough for her.  I was not blind to how Father doted on her and I am sure that she misses his attention.  I am so overwhelmed with work.  I do not remember Father being forever at his desk, but then, I was a child when he became the master of Pemberley.  I am taking this quiet time of the year to immerse myself in the details.  The quarterly rents are due soon, so I will be marking the ledgers and paying the bills.  I am fortunate that I have such excellent housekeepers in Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Mercer.  I only have to give them the funds and they care for the homes.  I know that I need to learn all of that detail as well but I will concentrate on the estate for now.  Perhaps I will marry and my wife can take over that duty before I have a need to take it on.

Darcy paused in his writing and shook his head.  “Marry.”  Entering the fray for finding a wife was so far down on his list of things to accomplish.  “I know that it must be done, but I dread the exercise.”  He looked at his mother’s miniature.  “How did you manage it, Father?  You married by duty, it was practically an arranged affair, and yet you loved each other deeply.  How did you come to be so very fortunate?  To marry with affection . . .” He sighed wistfully and turned back through the journal to find a worn page.  “Lizzy.  How tempted I am to try and locate this place of yours, this Longbourn.  But if I find you, what am I to do?  Torment myself by seeing you, knowing of you, and realizing that I cannot have you and also perform my duty?  Father told me that I must marry well, did he not?  I must find a woman who will do well in society, a place where I already know you do not live.  What is this connection that I feel for you?”  His eyes closed and he heard the laugh and voice, then saw the smile that had kept him company and drawn him from his darkest moments in the past months.  “This is so unfair.”  He whispered, then looked up to see his sister in the doorway.