Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (31 page)

“I agree, just a little.”  She smiled.  “You have jewels to wear, and they must be seen against your skin.”

“Jewels?”  Mary looked at her pearls.  “I only have this.”

“Rosings is not just an estate Mary; it is the contents, as well.  The de Bourgh jewels are yours.  Did you not know that?”

“No.”  Mary’s hand went to her heart.

“It is a vast collection, Lady Catherine was not good with keeping up the home, but she was quite happy to spend on jewels.  Some are horrid, I would have them reset or better yet, sell them off and start anew.”

“She lost
everything
?” 

“Down to the last silver teaspoon in the butler’s pantry.”  Lady Matlock said with satisfaction.  “Justice served.”

“No wonder she wished for Fitzwilliam to marry her daughter.”  Elizabeth shook her head.  “Could her husband have provided her with better circumstances?”

“Of course he could.”  Lady Matlock sniffed.  “He chose not to.”  Her gaze swept the room and rested on Georgiana and Kitty.  “The settlement is very important ladies.  This is why we do not elope.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

“Yes, Lady Helen.”

“Do you think that they might?”  Evangeline laughed.  “Have you a gentleman hidden away, Georgiana?  Will you elope at the tender age of fifteen?”  The rest of the ladies laughed at the thought and Georgiana blushed.

“I know better than that.” 

“Good girl.”  Elizabeth smiled.  Another gown arrived and they watched as it was fitted on.  “Fitzwilliam considered letting you go to Ramsgate this summer with Mrs. Somers.”

“He did?”  Georgiana gasped.

“Yes, for about as long as it took him to read your letter, and he said no, vehemently and quickly.  I am sorry.”  She smiled to see her and Kitty’s sigh.  “Some other year.”

“Could you talk to him?  All of our friends . . .”

“I agreed.”

“Oh.” 

“Quite right, Elizabeth.”  Lady Matlock nodded. 

“So it is Pemberley with us or Longbourn, at least for you, Kitty.”

“Pemberley.”  The girls said together.

“Well that was simple.”  Lady Matlock smiled.  “Will you stay the rest of the Season, Elizabeth?”

“No.”  She smiled and looked at her hands.  “We want to go home.”

“HOME ADVANTAGE.”  Darcy bowed and watched as the winnings were moved to his pile.  Lucas marked the paper and looked over to where Fitzwilliam stood panting. 

“Darcy and de Bourgh, next up.”  The two men exchanged assessing glances, each were soaked with sweat and possessed more than one mark from a lesser opponents’ misstep. 

“Ale?”  Darcy indicated the tray.

“Why not?”  De Bourgh picked up a tankard and drained it, while Darcy took a sip.  “Drink up, don’t think you’ll have the bladder advantage over me.”  The ballroom echoed with the low rumble of their laughter.

“I am tired.”  Fitzwilliam bent over to stretch his back and groaned.  “Lord, I am tired!”

“Excellent, I am next with you, then.” Layton grinned and assumed a stance before his crumpled brother.  “En garde!”

“Shut up, Stephen.”

“Father whipped you.”  Layton dropped his foil.  “Amazing.”

“I won, might I point out.” 

“Yes, and you are dying and he is gulping down the ale.”  He pointed at their father laughing in the corner.  “Come now, was it really that bad, or did you let him do well?”  Fitzwilliam looked up at him and winked.  Layton snorted.  “So it was Darcy who beat you down?”

“I plead my wounds.”  Fitzwilliam bent over again and found an extended hand before him.  Looking up he saw his cousin smiling and holding out a fresh tankard.  Laughing softly, he took the hand, straightened, and wiped the sweat from his brow.  “You really missed your calling.  You would be a damn fine officer, Darcy.”

“You have said that before.”  He handed him the drink.  “Thank you.”

“So, Bingley.”  Lord Matlock slapped his bare shoulder and he jumped with the sting.  “Woman troubles?”

“Not exactly.”  He rubbed the handprint.  “Robinson.”

“Cretin.”  Fitzwilliam growled and took a long pull on the ale.  “Brought home another girl?”

“No, no . . . And by the way, my sister knows nothing of it.”

“I assure you, man, I have no intention of seeking her out.” 

They chuckled and Bingley sighed.  “He is running into trouble with his suppliers, the groves, the war . . . I do not know exactly, but it seems that he is considering a journey to Spain.”

“Fool thing to do.”  De Bourgh shook his head.  “I would not enjoy going that way in a fully outfitted battleship.”

“Lost your nerve?”  Fitzwilliam nudged him.

“Better things to live for now.”  The men exchanged glances and nodded.

“Well, foolish or no, he is talking about going, and returning with the first crop in December.”  Bingley sighed.  “If he arrives, if he survives, and if there is a ship to bring him back at the end.”

“Idiot.  He has an estate, go live there for a year or so, live on that income and write off his oranges until the war is over.”

“When will that be?”  Lucas asked. 

Silence reigned and Bingley cleared his throat to regain their attention.  “Caroline wants to go with him.”

“Why?”  Darcy shook his head.  “No place for her, she wants the comforts of her station . . .and beyond.”

“You have that right.”  Fitzwilliam gestured with his ale.  “No place for the likes of her.”

“I know, I know, but she claims that all the ladies of the first circles have seen the world.  As long as they are in the area, she wants Rome, Venice . . . all the proper sights.  Who knows, maybe even India.”  He rolled his eyes.  “There is a reason why I went on a grand tour of Scotland and Ireland!”

“He told her no, did he not?”  Lord Matlock crossed his arms and saw Bingley’s shaking head.  “He is mad!”

“He is tired of her moaning.”  Bingley sighed.  “I do not know, but the baby will be left behind.”

“Well there is some sense then.”

“With Louisa and Hurst.  She is delighted and is practically packing their trunks for them.”  Bingley smiled a little with the laughter.  “In any case, Robinson asked me to run his estate for him in his absence.”

“What of Netherfield?”

“That is just it, I . . . I have a lease.”

“Not signed?”

“Well, reserved, I sign before I take possession in September.”  Bingley looked at Darcy.  “The estate is thirty-five miles from Pemberley.”

“Oh.”  Darcy smiled.  “I see.” 

“Smaller than Longbourn, or about the same size, I am not sure, but . . .” He looked at his hands.  “What do I do?  I would appreciate anyone’s advice.”

“He has a steward who runs it now?”

“It is leased for the summer, then he lives there in the autumn until the crop comes in, there is a good steward, yes.” 

“So Netherfield is a bigger estate . . .” Lord Matlock mused.  “Well, you own neither in the end.”

“But I
could
own Netherfield.”

“Why would he ask you to do this?  From what I’ve heard, you are hardly close.”  De Bourgh asked.  “Does he have family?  Brothers?”

“No, his entire family was wiped out with illness that swept through the area where he grew up.  They leased their rooms, so he went to live with his grandparents; they are gone now, too.  All he has is Caroline and Wallace.”  The men grew quiet.  “I suppose that explains a little of his detachment towards his son and his willingness to take Caroline with him.”

Darcy grew thoughtful.  “I think that his insistence that Wallace be left in your sister and brother’s care is because he is
not
detached.  I also have a feeling that he is more possessive of Mrs. Robinson than he will ever let on.” 

“Despite his questionable behaviour?”  Bingley asked.

“He is not that much different from many.”  Layton said softly and caught his father’s nod.

“I do not know what to do.  I want to help my family, but I want to pursue my plans.”  Bingley again looked at Darcy; clearly other thoughts were on his mind.

“You do not need to decide this moment, do you?”  Darcy asked.  “We can discuss this tomorrow, when we are better dressed? 
All
of the concerns you have?”

“I . . . yes, Darcy, I would appreciate that.”

“Good.”  He smiled and looked at de Bourgh.  “Ready?”

“Oh, yes.  I have been waiting for this all morning.”  They set down their tankards and picked up their foils.  “En garde.”  De Bourgh snarled, and the last match was on.

WITH A FLURRY OF CONVERSATION, the ladies climbed down from the two coaches and entered Darcy House.  “Mrs. Darcy.”  Foster bowed.  “Luncheon can be served at any time.” 

“Thank you, how are the gentlemen?”

“They are . . . I believe that they are nearly finished, madam.”  He glanced at the now very focussed attention of seven sets of eyes.  He cleared his throat. 

“I see.”  Elizabeth’s eyes were sparkling, but she turned back to the others.  “I will just go look in on the gentlemen, please go and refresh yourselves . . .”

“Elizabeth.  What are our husbands doing?”  Lady Matlock demanded.  “I thought that they were giving gentlemanly advice to Peter.”

“Advice?”  Mary looked at Lady Matlock and then to Elizabeth.

“I suspect that the advice has been dispensed by now and they are relaxing.”  She pursed her lips.  From the rear of the house, a loud roar of men’s voices sounded.  “And enjoying the experience.”

“Lizzy?”  Mary asked softly when she heard another cheer and the sound of steel.  “They are fencing?”

“I am afraid so.” 

“Oh no, Richard!”  Evangeline started hurrying down the hallway and Elizabeth passed her and held her hands up.  “Ladies, they are just letting go some high spirits and,” She glanced at Georgiana and Kitty. “Fitzwilliam truly needed this.”

“You knew?” 

“It is fencing, Alicia, not visiting gin palaces!”  Elizabeth sighed.

“Oh, but Stephen is not that good.”  Alicia said seriously.

“Henry surely would not . . . Oh Lord!”  Lady Matlock’s hand went to her mouth.  “Mrs. Darcy . . . MOVE!”

Shaking her head, Elizabeth led the way to the ballroom.  “You have no senses of humour.  Now I will just check on them, you stay here.”  The door was ajar and she peeked around the corner.  Darcy and de Bourgh were deeply absorbed in the fight, their foils flashed with lightening speed, forward, back, thrust, parry, spin.  Elizabeth sighed, watching her husband’s finely toned body, his skilled delivery, the intense focussed gaze. 
Fitzwilliam, you are a beautiful man.
 

“Touché!”  Bingley called.

“Come on de Bourgh, you can take him!”  Layton urged.

“Do not let me down, Son!”  Lord Matlock cried.  “Not in my sister’s home!” 

Suddenly Darcy advanced and with a fluid movement, disarmed De Bourgh; the steel flew through the air and landed with a clang at Elizabeth’s feet.  The roar was spectacular; Darcy bowed gracefully and started to rise when the noise of the gentlemen stopped.  Straightening, he turned.

“Elizabeth.”   Their eyes met and he saw the desire that shone from hers.  “No, love, please . . .”  He whispered, but still enjoying every second of her approving gaze as it travelled his body and . . .
Oh please, do not stop there!
. . .
centred over his thighs and groin.  Her lip caught in her teeth and involuntarily, he groaned.  When the tip of her tongue just appeared, he dropped his foil and strode straight for her. 

“Darcy!”  Lord Matlock commanded uselessly while the rest of them scrambled to find their shirts.

In seconds, Darcy had crossed the room and stood over Elizabeth, blocking her view of the other men.  “Do you see something you like, love?” 

“Oh yes.”  He glanced at the door, and noticed that she had her foot against the bottom, preventing it from opening.  He could hear the women behind it.  A tiny smile graced his lips and he looked back down at her, and watched as she drew her finger down his glistening chest, and tasted it.  “Mmm, salty.”

Darcy bent to kiss her.  “Sweet.”  Her eyes dropped and he let a shaking breath escape as she gazed upon him.  “You cannot keep them out.” 

“But I can stand in front of you so they do not see what is mine.”  Elizabeth touched his breeches, then moving aside; let the door open at last.  Darcy quickly snatched up his shirt when de Bourgh tossed it to him, and donned it as the flurry of women entered the room.  Elizabeth stood before him and he rested his hands upon her shoulders while pressing his arousal against her back. 

“Henry!” 

“Stephen!”

“Robert!”

“Richard!” 

“Peter . . .”

“
Mr. Bingley
.”
  Sighed Georgiana and Kitty.

“OUT!”  Elizabeth grabbed the girls and turned them around, then pushed Mary.  She looked back at Darcy and he started laughing, then glancing at the men being interviewed by their women, followed Elizabeth, and ducked up the back stairs to their bedchambers.  Before long, Elizabeth appeared.

Darcy was washing up in the ewer, stripped down to nothing.  Lifting his dripping face, he turned to her with a smile.  “The ladies are all sorted out?”

“Hmm.”  She leaned on the doorframe and just looked at him. 

“Elizabeth.”  He dried off his face and chest, smiling at her, then dropped the towel, walking forward as she again let her gaze wander.  “Do you know how exceptionally arousing it is to have you look at me with such hunger?”

Taking him into her hands, she stroked over his very prominent pride.  “No.  Tell me.”  Darcy’s hands slipped around her waist as his mouth crushed hers.  “Oh.”  She gasped when he let go for a breath, only to take possession again.  Bending, he lifted her, supporting her bottom as her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

“Now.”  He gasped.  “Now Lizzy.  We will go slowly later, but I need you
now
.

“Do you hear me protesting?”  She laughed as he carried her to the bed and lay her down. 

Darcy leaned to kiss her gently.  “No love, I hear you calling for me.  Let us begin again.”