The Plight of the Darcy Brothers (3 page)

BOOK: The Plight of the Darcy Brothers
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Despite all of the attention, despite her husband's loving diligence, Elizabeth did not return to her old self and only seemed to brighten in private, in front of her sister Jane and in playing with Geoffrey. Darcy could not admit that the wind had also been knocked from his own emotions, but society dictated that they recover and move on. Unfortunately, he privately suspected that would only happen when Elizabeth was with child again, or something happened to distract her. Despite his best efforts, he could not provide the first.

Providence provided the second, when a letter from Mary Bennet arrived a month later.

DARK CLOUDS AT BRIGHTON

DARCY HAPPENED TO BE coming down the main steps when the doors opened for Jane Bingley, and though she did not look particularly distressed, he crossed by the servants and bowed to her himself. “Mrs. Bingley.”

“Mr. Darcy,” she curtseyed. “I've come to speak with my sister.”

“She's in her study. I assume all is well?”

“Yes. It's merely some conversation,” she said, which struck him as a bit odd, but he would not inquire as to what the subject was.

He did not have time to do so anyway, with his son bounding down the steps and nearly sliding across the marble, so that Darcy had to catch him by his jacket before he slammed into Jane entirely, which was probably his intent. “What did I tell you about running down the stairs?”

“Don't!” his son simply said, squirreling out of his grasp and running to grab his aunt by her leg, which was about as high as he could reach. “Auntie!”

“My darling nephew,” she said. “I fear you're getting too heavy for your poor aunt to pick up. You should listen to your father more often. You might hurt yourself.”

“He should,” said Darcy with a mock-indignant posture, but his son simply giggled at him and put his hand in his mouth. “But he doesn't. He takes after his mother.”

“I've no doubt of that. Oh, I should have brought Georgie, but the business is too quick, and she was asleep. Well, you will see her at church on Sunday, won't you, Geoffrey?”

“Kirk!” he said, and looked at his father, almost hiding behind Jane's dress as he did so.

“Yes, yes, I'm so thrilled at your love of Scottish vocabulary. Now, Mrs. Bingley, unless you would like Geoffrey to accompany you, he and I have an appointment—”

“No!” Geoffrey clung to his aunt's legs. “Scary face.”

“It's a wart, and there is nothing you can do about it,” Darcy said, and then clarified for his sister-in-law. “His tailor. Has a bump on his nose. And it's
very improper to say anything about it
.”

“That's very right,” she said, looking down at Geoffrey's scowl. “You shouldn't judge people by their appearances. Looking at you now, someone might think you a dour man with a permanent scowl who doesn't like balls very much.”

“I fear I'll never live down Meryton,” Darcy said, scooping up his son and still managing to bow. “Mrs. Bingley.”

“Mr. Darcy.”

He did not inquire unto her further; other things were on his mind, like keeping his son's mouth shut during the whole fitting. Maybe some sort of glue was the answer.

Elizabeth Darcy's “study” was impressive, beyond just the idea that she had one, and it was not simply a sitting or drawing room. It had a desk, a chair, and lots of legal books that she had not the slightest intent of perusing, but they were important to making it a proper
study
. As Mistress of Pemberley, she was not without her business. Certainly it was nothing that a writing table couldn't handle, but that was not her desire, and
Mr.
Darcy made sure that every one of her wants and needs was taken care of. Also, he desperately needed her out of his study.

When Jane entered the room, Elizabeth was sitting, reading an old epic with language that she could barely understand, but the tome was big and fascinating all the more and would not sit properly on her lap. “Jane! I was not expecting you.”

“No.” Jane didn't look harried, but she did shut the door. Something in her countenance changed when the door was firmly shut and they were in privacy. “What a lovely room.”

“Yes. But not very good for chatting.” Elizabeth was referring to the lack of couches, but Jane made her way to a gentleman's sitting chair and passed her a letter. “From Mary.”

“For you?”

“My eyes only.”

Elizabeth did not question further. She read through the letter, which was brief, before beginning to conjure the proper response. Mary, who was studying in a seminary just outside of Paris, had returned to England, or was to when the letter was written. She was traveling by means of a ship that would take her to Brighton first, where she had arranged lodgings, and where she wanted to see Jane alone. The first puzzlement was the obvious question of why she would not come home through
Town and then go straight on to Hertfordshire. The second was why she wanted Jane alone and in the strictest confidence.

“Why me, Lizzy?”

Elizabeth pondered before answering, “Perhaps because you are the most understanding of the five of us.”

“Why would that make any difference?” Before Elizabeth could offer a suggestion, Jane added, “Perhaps she came home ill and is in Brighton for its healing qualities. She could stay with the Fitzwilliams.”

“Then she would merely say so. Clearly she is in some sort of trouble.”

“Lizzy! This is
Mary
we're talking about. Not Kitty or Lydia—”

“Nonetheless.”

Jane could not find the words to contradict her. “Please, you must go with me.”

“That would be directly contrary to our sister's request, I believe.”

“I do not think it unreasonable that you accompany me to Brighton. She only specifies that I meet with her first. That you happen to be in town with me will only be a happy coincidence,” Jane said. “She must see us all in turn, eventually. So it will be most convenient.”

“Jane,” Lizzy smiled, “you can be very devious when you wish to be.”

“Lizzy!”

“But I will say no more on the subject,” she said, standing up. “I simply must tell my husband that I am absconding to Brighton, perhaps to see the Fitzwilliams, whom I have been very lax in visiting despite them being my cousins.”

“And he will believe it?”

“Hardly, but he will not put up a fuss.” She closed the letter. “Besides, now that we are safely married, we can finally go to Brighton without any fear of great disaster.”

It took Elizabeth a long while before she was sure she had misspoken in her assumption of safety from disaster.

A gruff Darcy, reluctant to part with his wife, and an over-eager son, reluctant to part with his mother, made getting into the carriage unbelievably difficult. “For the last time, you cannot go
this time
,” Elizabeth said to her son, who was kicking the dust up around her in frustration. “There will be many times for us to travel to Brighton, if you are so eager to go.” Not that Brighton had anything to do with it.

Geoffrey Darcy huffed and looked up for help at his father, who replied with a shrug, “She won't let me go, either. It seems she is the master of us both.” Knowing his son would not catch the subtlety, he merely patted him on head.

Jane's parting was easier, mainly because Georgiana Bingley did not say anything. Georgiana had not yet spoken her first words, although she seemed to understand everyone properly. Several doctors had been called to test her hearing, which was fine, but for whatever reason, she was holding back her words. She did cry a bit when she was taken out of her mother's arms, but Bingley managed to shush her as he kissed his wife good-bye. “Write us.”

“I doubt we will be there long enough to pen a letter,” she assured him, “and don't forget her cough medicine.”

“Right.”

“And her nighttime story.”

“Of course.”

“And the little blanket she likes, even though it's too small for her now. I brought it from Chatton, didn't I?”

“Yes, dear.”

She kissed her daughter on the cheek. This was her first major separation from her children. The twins were staying at Chatton while Bingley and Georgie kept Darcy company at Pemberley. “Don't let your father and uncle destroy the house while we're gone.”

“I did manage to keep Pemberley up as a bachelor for some years,” Darcy said defensively.

“But you didn't have Geoffrey to chase around,” Elizabeth said, and she did mean
chase
. Her son was good-natured, but no one was going to deny that he was a bit on the wild side. That brought Mr. Bennet no end of amusement, and he would go on about how she had been as a child. “I think he shall keep you quite busy, Husband.”

It was time to be going, if they were to reach a decent destination by nightfall. As they waved good-bye from the path in front of Pemberley's great steps, Darcy said, “I don't know why I have the riotous one. You're the wild Irishman.”

“I'm going to ignore that insult and say just one thing to you—
karma
.”

Darcy looked blank. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Because your knowledge of Eastern literature is restricted to two books,” Bingley said, and walked into the house.

“Bingley? Bingley, you get back here and explain what you just said!”

The carriage ride was not a lovely discussion of sisterly things, because it was long, stuffy, and bumpy. By the time they arrived in Brighton, both sisters were tired and the sun was going down. Their first disconcerting discovery was that, despite their announced intentions to be guests at the Fitzwilliams and their explanation by letter of their sudden presence, Mary Bennet had made no call upon the Fitzwilliams, if she was in Brighton at all.

Granted, Mary did not know the Fitzwilliams well, being only a distant relation, but that meant she was staying elsewhere, and they could not imagine whom else she would call on. This concern was expressed when they were finally settled in the parlor and given tea and snacks. Both sisters were nauseous from the ride and not eager for the grand meal that was offered by their hosts.

It was most eagerly offered. Colonel Fitzwilliam had always been a bright and kind fellow, but marriage had been good to him, because his face had an ever-present shine. More striking, though, was Mrs. Anne Fitzwilliam (née de Bourgh), who looked—by her own set of standards—radiant, and by a normal person's standards, healthy and almost normal. The sea air (and perhaps being out from under her own mother's stifling presence, though Elizabeth held her tongue on that) had done wonders for Anne as it had so many other people. While she was not a robust woman by any means, she was not the trembling mouse of a girl that Elizabeth Bennet had met at Rosings nearly five years prior.

“Our only regret,” Anne said as tea was poured, “is that we are so terribly far from everyone. You must tell us everything—of course, if you have time. Though perhaps I do not fully understand the matter at hand.”

“Neither do we,” Elizabeth fully admitted. “And now, it seems, we must go searching about the town for word of Mary, because she has not called on you or given us her address, and we have no other relatives here.”

“You cannot go out tonight,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said with some amount of male authority. “It is already late and you are exhausted, and you do not know Brighton's streets. Surely, your search must wait until morning.”

BOOK: The Plight of the Darcy Brothers
10.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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