The Darcys of Pemberley (26 page)

“I daresay I have had more than enough sleep
for one afternoon. Yet I confess I am in no hurry to leave this
bed, especially now you are come. Are you quite certain you did not
mean to disturb me, husband?”

“How can you suspect me, Elizabeth? Did we
not both agree to abstain from other enjoyments for the duration,
for the sake of the child?”

“I beg your pardon, sir. My mistake. Perhaps
it is my own thoughts that are suspect,” she said, twining her
fingers through the dark curls that framed his face.

As often happened, the thoughts of one
inspired ideas of the other until they were both fairly carried
away. Although they did not forsake their agreement entirely, Mr.
and Mrs. Darcy did manage to find considerable enjoyment in the
situation … and they came down quite late to dinner that
afternoon.

~*~

The two days Darcy and Elizabeth had to
themselves before the arrival of their next house guests were far
too precious to waste. They knew another such opportunity might not
come along for some time. Having friends, family, and soon a child
always with them was one kind of delight, but this was quite
another. They elected to savor it to the fullest extent while it
lasted, spending as much time together as possible. All but the
most urgent business gave way in favor of more pleasant pursuits.
They slept late and took their breakfast in their rooms. Leisurely
walks round the park and talk of matters both trivial and profound:
these were the order of the day.

The hours melted away all too rapidly,
leaving fond memories and refreshed spirits to mark their passing.
Sunday brought the prospect of the Hursts and Miss Bingley arriving
at the gates of Pemberley by dinnertime. First, however, there
would be a trip to Kympton for church. Since the weather was
exceptionally fine, Mr. Darcy decided to drive himself and his wife
in the curricle, the better to take in the open air and view the
countryside along the way. With green pastures and still waters
fresh in their minds, Mr. Thornton’s message from the twenty-third
Psalm seemed singularly fitting.

Most of the congregation lingered outside for
a time following the service to enjoy the superior day and greet
their neighbors. Darcy and Elizabeth looked for Ruth Sanditon and
happily found Mr. Sanditon alongside her. Although the gentleman
was more frequently at church now than in the past, his presence
there still could not be presumed from one Sunday to the next.

Greetings were exchanged between the four
friends, with the customary how-do-you-do’s and
very-well-thank-you’s being passed all round.

“I hope you do not mind my saying so,” added
Mr. Sanditon, “but you are looking especially well today, Mrs.
Darcy. I have always thought that there is a particular grace and
nobility about a woman in your…situation. Forgive me. Perhaps that
was indelicate. I can be so clumsy sometimes.”

Elizabeth was surprised by the sentiment but
not in the least offended. “Not at all, Mr. Sanditon. I should
think our friendship is secure enough by now that we may speak
freely. I thank you for the compliment.”

“The sight of you has put me very much in
mind of my late wife,” he continued in a lower voice. “You have
something of her coloring, Mrs. Darcy, and she was never more
beautiful than when she was with child. I often told her so, yet I
daresay she did not believe me.” He stopped and averted his eyes.
“Well, how I do ramble on.”

Elizabeth hastened to his rescue. “And how
are your daughters, Mr. Sanditon? It has been so long since we have
seen them.”

On safer ground now, Mr. Sanditon relaxed,
speaking of Abigail and Amelia with warmth and pride. Ruth, from
her frequent contact with the girls, was able to confirm the good
report their father gave and add her own details. Then conversation
moved on. Mr. Sanditon asked after Georgiana again; Ruth shared the
contents of a letter she had received from Charlotte; and the
Darcys told of their arriving house guests.

By this time, most of the other parishioners
had dispersed, and the rector was free to join the Darcys’ party.
“Please accept my compliments, Mr. Thornton,” Darcy told him. “That
was a first-rate sermon – most inspiring.”

“It is hard to go wrong with such good
material,” he said chuckling. “The real credit should go to the
author, do not you think so?”

“Quite, but we may still be grateful to the
messenger, I believe.”

“Just as you say, then, Mr. Darcy. I find I
cannot fault your logic in that. And Mr. Sanditon, I am glad to see
you again. May I inquire after your family? Are your daughters
well, sir?”

“I thank you, yes.”

“Next time you come, you really must bring
them with you,” Mr. Thornton continued.

“Would not the noise of small children be an
unwelcome disruption?”

“On the contrary. Jesus welcomed little ones,
and he is always our example. I believe the good people of this
parish would consider it a real treat to see your girls here, Mr.
Sanditon, as indeed would I. My feeling is that the church should
be filled with the sounds of life. Voices lifted in song and the
laughter of children are two of my particular favorites. We must
not always be solemn, you know, even in church!” Mr. Thornton
concluded jovially.

Once back at Pemberley, Darcy and Elizabeth
had little to do but await the arrival of their guests. It was a
warm afternoon, which Elizabeth felt most keenly just then, so they
retreated to the coolest part of the house and took their ease.

“I was amused by Sanditon’s compliment to you
this morning, Lizzy,” said Darcy. “What an odd thing for him to
say!”

“I thought it rather sweet, actually,
especially his reference to his late wife. From that and other
things he has said, I take it he was quite devoted to her. Poor
man. It must be very lonely for him.”

“Yes. He does not speak of it often, even to
me, but I believe he feels the loss deeply, both for himself and
for the children.”

“Yet he is much improved, even since we have
known him. Do not you think so, Darcy? I believe getting out more
and having Ruth and Charlotte at the cottage to keep him company
has done him a world of good.”

“Yes, and perhaps in time he will marry
again.”

“Perhaps so,” Elizabeth agreed, having the
certain knowledge that was exactly what Mr. Sanditon had in mind.
She wondered what Darcy would say if he knew that his own sister
was prospectively the next mistress of Reddclift.

House Guests

Pemberley had played host to Mr. Bingley’s
sisters, Louisa and Caroline, and more recently Louisa’s husband
Mr. Hurst, many times in the past. The chief appeal of their visits
in days gone by had been the fact that the party always included
Mr. Bingley. Bereft of that advantage, the prospect of their coming
this time held little charm.

Mr. Hurst’s social resources were limited,
the scope of his powers being mainly confined to a willingness to
shoot and a competency in card-playing. Although the ladies were
better endowed with accomplishments, neither of them shared their
brother’s amiable disposition and charitable heart. Without these,
their other talents soon wore thin and their elegance seemed a
hollow thing. Nevertheless, the Darcys intended to accept their
coming with grace.

At two o’clock in the afternoon, they
arrived. The fashionable Miss Bingley alighted first from the
barouche, accepting Mr. Darcy’s hand to assist her, and holding it
a little longer than was strictly necessary. She favored him with
her sweetest smile and salutation before addressing Elizabeth with
a less sincere version of the same.

Mr. and Mrs. Hurst then emerged from the
carriage. In their case, it was the gentleman more than the lady
who required a steadying hand. Mr. Hurst was a man in his middle
years with a figure that bore testament to his longstanding
devotion to fine food and drink. Hence, he was not so agile as he
once had been. The Hursts greeted the Darcys with the formal
courtesy practiced so scrupulously by the supercilious people of
their social circle. As they all proceeded indoors, Darcy and
Elizabeth faced the daunting prospect of two hours to fill with
conversation before dinner.

“Ah, how delightful it is to be back at
Pemberley again,” Caroline began as they settled in the drawing
room. “You were so wise to forsake London when you did, Mr. Darcy.
It is a vast deal more pleasant in the country this time of year.
The city becomes so foul once the weather turns hot. Were it not
for the air being far superior in our part of town, I could never
have endured it as long as I did.”

“How fortunate, then, that you had somewhere
else to go,” he responded stiffly. “I am gratified that we could be
of service in providing relief from such an insupportable
situation.”

Noting the not-so-subtle sarcasm in her
husband’s voice, Elizabeth quickly changed the subject. “Did you
happen to see anything of Georgiana since we came away?”

“Dear, dear Georgiana,” said Caroline. “How I
dote on her. Yes, we saw her twice – at the Puttnam musicale and …
Oh, where was it, Louisa?”

“At the ball at the hunt club. Your cousin,
the colonel, escorted her, Mr. Darcy.”

“Yes, of course. I remember now,” continued
Caroline. “She
was
with Colonel Fitzwilliam. We were lucky
enough to catch their attention just as they were leaving. What a
charming gentleman he is, and how gallantly he behaves toward his
little cousin, escorting her all about town even though he must
still be suffering from his recent disappointment,” she concluded
with a sad sigh. “One cannot help but have a very high regard for
such a man. In fact, I should not be sorry to see more of him.”

“Fitzwilliam
is
an excellent fellow,”
said Darcy, “and I think it quite likely you will see him again,
Miss Bingley. He will almost certainly accompany Georgiana when she
returns, if that will be of any use. Of course, by then you may be
at Heatheridge.”

“Have the Bingleys’ other guests left them?”
asked Mrs. Hurst.

“No, not yet. But they very soon will,” Darcy
said with resolve.

Elizabeth had ordered an excellent dinner
with the tastes of her guests in mind. Although, since her goal was
to nourish rather than impress them, there were only five courses
presented, not counting the dessert, coffee, and walnuts. Civil
conversation on topics great and small continued throughout the
meal, everyone excepting Mr. Hurst making a concerted effort to
support its ebb and flow. The ladies withdrew after dinner, but
were not long by themselves. The taciturn nature of both gentlemen
left them sitting mostly in silence. They soon gave up the struggle
and rejoined the women in the music room.

Neither Caroline nor Louisa was averse to
exhibiting her talent, so there was no want of ready performers.
Later, in deference to Mr. Hurst, the card table was set out. Its
use provided employment for the remainder of the evening. The group
began with Loo, eventually moved on to Speculation, and finished
with a rubber of Commerce. By then, all of them were content to
call it a night and adjourn to their sleeping quarters.

“We only just got through the evening without
running out of conversation and entertainment,” said Elizabeth when
she and Darcy had closeted themselves in their bedchamber. “How do
you propose we fill the coming days and weeks, my dear?”

“I do not know about days and weeks, but I
have engaged Mr. Hurst to go fishing in the morning. He was
agreeable so long as it did not require an early start. That will
leave the ladies to you, Lizzy. I cannot believe you have run out
of female conversational topics so soon. We did not leave you alone
long enough after dinner to exhaust all your resources,
surely.”

“‘Female conversational topics’? And what
exactly do you suppose those to be, Mr. Darcy?”

“Well … I have no certain knowledge of what
goes on when I am not present. I can only imagine that there is
talk of fashion, society, and other such things.”

Elizabeth frowned and said with mock disdain,
“How little you understand the female sex, sir, to presume that we
care only for trivialities. It might interest you to know that we
ladies have more important matters to discuss than the latest style
for sleeves. In private, we debate politics, the need for social
reform, and the meaning of life amongst other things – things that
men have very little capacity to comprehend.”

“Thank you for enlightening me, my dear. I
had no idea. However, if, as you say, your thoughts and discourse
run over such a wide and varying territory, you can have little
reason to fear that you will ever be at a loss for something to
talk about,” he said with a satisfied smile.

Mr. Darcy’s prediction proved correct; the
ladies did manage to keep their conversation going whilst the
gentlemen were out the next morning, even without exploring into
the realms of politics and philosophy. Later, Mrs. Hurst and Miss
Bingley expressed a desire to go riding, a passion they had little
opportunity to indulge in town. Pemberley’s stables were well
supplied with suitable mounts, so accommodating their request was a
simple matter. The ladies prevailed upon Mr. Darcy to accompany and
guide them. Mr. Hurst did not care to join them, and they left him
napping, reclined at an awkward angle on a settee in the drawing
room. Elizabeth was in no condition to ride. Instead she took the
opportunity to stroll through the gardens close to the house,
choosing the formal knot garden as her destination.

She began her tour with the roses round the
perimeter, casting about for the best blooms and drinking in their
sweet scent. The flowering of the Gallica and Damask roses had long
gone by, but the Chinas carried on despite the heat of late summer.
After gathering a few of these, Elizabeth turned onto the path that
circled the maze of carefully-clipped hedges occupying the center
of the garden. Various decorative and culinary herbs filled the
spaces left between the crisscrossing ribbons of boxwood. At this
time of year, the lavender was unquestionably the premier
performer, both in color and fragrance. The warmth of the day
liberated its heady perfume, filling the air with a pungent aroma.
Elizabeth added dozens of the purple-fringed stems to her bouquet
before slowly making her way back to the house to await the return
of the riding party.