My Dearest Mr. Darcy: An Amazing Journey Into Love Everlasting (34 page)

"So, your convictions were never shaken by Hinduism?"

"You still sound surprised." He grinned teasingly. "I am essentially a simple man, my boy. I do not like things too complicated, and the Hindu religion is far too complicated. Many tried to explain it to me and of course I do understand a great deal, but it only served to strengthen my faith. A dear friend loved to debate me on the subject, but she was never all that serious about converting me. Rather she preferred to stir me up for fun." A tender smile lit his face, eyes soft. Darcy watched him closely, but George snapped out of his momentary trance with a cough. "Besides, they do not eat beef! Are mostly vegetarian, in fact, so it would never work!"

Darcy could make no claims to theological proficiency, having never specifically studied the subject, but his years of regular church attendance, deep faith, and regular Bible reading had translated to what he presumed was a superior knowledge on the topic. Imagine his surprise through frequent conversations with his wayward uncle to discover the far wider breadth of the older man's comprehension. They debated upon occasion, but primarily Darcy found himself listening and learning. It was the launching point where many of Darcy's preconceived ideas regarding his uncle's character and morals were proven false.

It was not that he had an overwhelmingly negative opinion of George. However, he could not previously claim to really know the man intimately, and George's general air of flippancy and irreverence had translated to Darcy as disregard for what was appropriate and moral. He eventually realized that the old prejudices of his own character that he thought eradicated after nearly losing Elizabeth were partially intact. Even his repugnance for George's keeping of a mistress ended up not being the moral debasement that he imagined.

A few days later Darcy and George accidentally discovered themselves alone, sipping lemonade on the eastern edge of the terrace.

Lizzy was resting and Georgiana was practicing her music. Richard was currently at Rivallain visiting with his brother. A stack of work requiring hours with Mr. Keith had occupied Darcy's afternoon, finishing just as the sun lay low on the western horizon. Informed by Mr. Taylor that Dr. Darcy reclined under the canopy erected away from the harsh afternoon sun, Darcy decided to join him with fresh drinks and victuals.

"Ah!" George declared upon noting the laden tray in his nephew's hands, sitting forward from his slumped repose. "What have you brought? Gooseberry tartlets and sweet cream! Divine!" He snatched one before the tray was safely placed onto the table, biting deep with a sensuous moan of delight. "Oh, Mrs. Langton, you genius. William, no matter how prestigious it is to have a French chef, if you ever replace that woman, I shall turn you over my knee."

Darcy laughed, chewing with equal pleasure. "Have no fear, Uncle. I am a Darcy through and through, which means I appreciate excellent cuisine served in healthy proportions. If I want my son to grow as tall and hardy as me, then I would be unwise to restrict his diet to miniscule portions of rich fare. That only leaves one fat and lazy."

They ate in silence, enjoying the array of pastries provided. George Darcy, for all his natural jocularity, was much like his nephew in that he did not suffer the pressing need to fill the space with useless chatter. The men passed as much time together in quiet companionship as they did in conversation. They happily snacked while staring at the mesmerizing play of sunlight on the rippling waters of the lake and jetting fountains. The varied sounds of nature soothed their ears and lulled tired brains. It was quite some time before the hush was broken and then it was Darcy verbalizing unconsciously what he had been dreamily musing on.

"Elizabeth and I have discussed your recommendation that I stay with her during the birth."

"And?"

Darcy chuckled lowly, glancing at George with an arched brow. "You recall my shock at the notion? Well, for all the difference in our physical features, I do believe her expression mirrored mine. I did not bring it up forthwith but waited until late one night..."

"You deemed it wise to wait until she was adequately pliant and amenable?" George interrupted with a naughty grin and a wink, Darcy flushing but shaking his head in resignation.

"No, I needed to consider the matter and come to grips with the notion myself. Anyway, we agreed to the arrangement, although convincing Mrs. Henderson before she storms out in a contemptible rage may take some doing."

"Do not be ridiculous. You are the Master of Pemberley, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, etcetera. She has nothing to say about the matter and in the aftermath of your brilliance in the birth chamber will undoubtedly see the logic and spread the word, thus starting a fashionable trend that will benefit millions. It will be a revolution sweeping all England and then Europe. They will probably name it after you and you will be famous."

"Precisely another valid reason why I should
not
be there, but, alas, you have planted the seed too firmly."

George laughed. "Do not worry, William. I will break the news to Mrs. Henderson. Women are helpless against the George Darcy charm." He waggled his brows, Darcy shaking his head in resignation.

"Whatever you say, Uncle." He paused, George waiting as he sensed Darcy's seriousness and knew it best to remain silent until the younger man gathered his thoughts. With low, halting voice Darcy resumed, "Tell me truthfully, Uncle. Have you seen many men in the birth chamber and can swear that it is beneficial to the woman?" He stared fixedly at the distant fountain. "I will sacrifice my life for Elizabeth's comfort without hesitation, but I confess to not relishing witnessing what reputedly is a heinous trial for the woman I love."

"You are not all that fragile, William. As to your question, yes, I have seen many men attend and assist in birth. It is not so uncommon a practice in India. And, of course, doctors have been doing it for centuries. Personally I have always been rather affronted, pridefully insulted at the concept that childbirth is a woman's purview. As if a man cannot have the stomach for it! Besides, there is nothing more miraculous then seeing your offspring come into the world. It is beautiful."

He concluded in a bare whisper. Darcy glanced over sharply, noting George's faraway stare and the undisguised sorrow waving over his face. A rush of intense curiosity lanced through him, but he held his tongue. The months building their relationship had revealed a man astonishingly similar to himself, and if there was anything Darcy hated, it was prying. He was a fiercely private man and knew his uncle to be the same. If George wished to share what was clearly a painful subject, then he would do so without Darcy's urging.

Therefore silence once again fell, each man lost to internal memories and musings. Enough time passed that Darcy had almost forgotten the last words vocalized when George spoke.

"I was a father for a brief time." He looked into Darcy's surprised eyes with a grim smile and then he shrugged. "I have spoken of this to very few people. Raja does not even know. My daughter was born two months early and lived for a week. She was perfect. Bronze skin, black hair, tiny fingers and toes. We named her Bhrithi, which means cherished. I did everything I could think of, but she was too fragile. She would be ten years old if she had lived."

He paused to swallow audibly, eyes closing as he leaned back to rest his head on the cool stones of the Manor's outer wall. "Frankly I do not know why I yet hesitate to speak of these parts of my life. Years of maintaining secrecy are difficult to break, I suppose. James knew. He was my closest friend even with the distance between us." He smiled fondly.

"Uncle, you do not need to share this with me if it is uncomfortable."

"Quite the contrary, William. Surprisingly I do not feel 'uncomfortable,' but merely do not wish to burden you with my affairs unnecessarily. It is all past now, but I yearn for the honest relationship I sense building between us to continue. I know you are aware that I had a mistress. Previously I was unperturbed by your reaction to the fact. I do not suffer from embarrassment or the fear of disparagement." He laughed, opening one eye to peer at Darcy. "My towering self-esteem and arrogance is not a facade! If you thought less of me for living immorally, I honestly did not care. But, you see, this too has changed. Oh, I am still arrogant and likely will be until the day I die, but your opinion now matters. Quite annoying actually, but there you have it."

He closed the eye, smiling dreamily. "Jharna was the wife of my mentor, Dr. Kshitij Ullas, and daughter to a marvelous friend, Thakore Sahib Pandey. She and I were friends but nothing more until after Kshitij died, well after in fact. Jharna and Kshitij were a rare find in that they truly loved each other. He was far older and a widower for many years when he married Jharna. It was an arranged marriage, as most are there, Jharna given as partial payment when Kshitij saved Pandey's life. Of course, all this transpired long before I came to India. By the time I met them they were the parents of two young boys, happily married and in love. Jharna was supremely fortunate in that she had a wealthy, influential father who doted on her and a husband who arranged for her to be cared for after he died."

He sighed. "Hindu women have few rights, William, even worse than here, and their religion precludes them from enjoying life after being widowed. If not for a supportive family, Jharna would have been banished. Should have been, according to many, or encouraged to commit sati, suicide that is, when he died. Instead she retreated to a secluded house Kshitij prepared for her and lived as a recluse raising their sons. Our relationship evolved gradually. My love for Kshitij and grief upon his death brought us together as friends comforting each other. Two years passed before either of us realized our friendship had progressed into love. What we felt for each other, the relationship we lived was wrong on many counts from both our cultural beliefs, but nothing has ever felt so right at the same time. I begged her to marry me and come to England, but she refused. Jharna was a Hindu and her place was there. I understood this, respected her bravery and viewpoint, but the immorality of our situation distressed me. Not for what other people thought, but for my personal principles. Maybe it was weakness on our part or perhaps superior strength of conviction. I do not know. It never bothered Jharna so much. She was one of those rare souls who accept the whimsies of life as freely as the trees accept the wind and rain."

"I wish I could have met her. She sounds remarkable."

"That she was."

"Tell me more."

George looked at Darcy's trusting face, eyes full of affection, and he smiled. And he did tell him more, then and in numerous conversations that would span the future time they shared.

While the friendship and familial bond between Darcy and George flourished rapidly, aided by these solitary intervals, Lizzy's attachment was delayed. She liked him instantly at the first words out of his mouth when entering Darcy House and his compassionate care for Darcy's shoulder. Her delight in his humor was instantaneous. However, true affinity and devotion was longer in coming due to the plain fact that they passed little time alone together while in London or at Pemberley during the summer. This began to change as the fall months progressed with fewer people to entertain and divert attention. Gradually their conversations deepened, the two upon rare occasions alone for a pointed engagement.

One such incident occurred one morning as Lizzy lumbered with mildly waddling gait down the peacefully quiet second-floor hallway toward the coolness of her parlor. Breakfast was over and Darcy was already gone on a jaunt about the estate while Georgiana was with her tutor. The persistent heat combined with an ever-increasing physical burden sapped her strength, necessitating afternoons at rest and any household chores requiring her concentration be done early in the day before weariness consumed her. Thus she was heading for her parlor where a stack of papers and ledgers waited on her small desk.

Her attention was captured as she passed the yawning expanse at the top of the grand staircase. George stood in the foyer focused on one of the three gigantic tapestries that lined the southern wall below the window embrasures. With a smile she diverted from her pathway, carefully navigating the marble stairs with hand tight on the banister, and silently joined him in contemplation.

"I cannot recall how many times I lost myself in staring at these, attempting to trace the interwoven lines and memorize all the names. Do you know we actually were tested on our family tree?" He turned to Lizzy with a grin and she shook her head. "Oh yes! You would think our tutors part of the family as vigorously as they enforced our ability to readily trace our ancestry. I was always gifted in rote memorization, but Alex was pathetically inept, poor soul. The first time, I think we were maybe eight or so, I told him to just toss in a ream of Alexanders and Jameses and Henrys and Roberts and he would fool the tutor." He laughed. "I was wrong, of course, and we both received lashes across our knuckles."

"The first time I visited Pemberley, with my uncle and aunt, we breezed through the foyer and I confess I was struck more by the ceiling and sculptures. It was the following day that William, Mr. Darcy as he was to me then, brought us here for a closer inspection at my request. I think he was a bit embarrassed, not wishing me to think him unduly proud of his home. He was trying so hard to impress me with his humility, you see, not realizing that I was already in love with him. He steered me to the opposite side, away from the tapestries, but I noticed them anyway."