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

by Wells, Linda

  “HOW WAS THE BALL?” Mr. Gardiner tilted his head. “I am surprised to see you up and about so early.”

  Bingley smiled. “I suppose that I am used to the hours. It is the Darcys who will be slow in rising, I think. They were dragging at the end, especially Mrs. Darcy. I cannot recall her looking so terribly tired before. Darcy was worried desperately about her, but she refused to cut Miss Bennet’s night short.” Mr. Gardiner’s brow creased in concern. “I imagine that she is fine, she was working hard, deflecting the kind attention of the numerous friends who wished to see her and Darcy, as well as looking after Miss Bennet. If she is not soon Mrs. de Bourgh, I will be very surprised.”

  “So I am to gain a nephew.” Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “Cow eyes?”

  “Oh he is pitiful.” Bingley shrugged. “Miss Bennet has blossomed into a lovely woman, I never considered her, perhaps I missed something there.”

  “No, she is not for you, Bingley.”

  “No?”

  “Other than that coveted family connection to the Darcys, no, I would say that you are in need of someone a bit more lively.”

  “Perhaps.” He glanced out the window and towards the warehouses that lined the busy street. “Well, I did not come here to talk of love, I instead would ask about business.”

  “Advice is free, Mr. Bingley, I am happy to help where I can.” Mr. Gardiner smiled and held up a bottle of whiskey. “A drink?”

  “That sounds promising. I enjoyed a good bit of this in Ireland.” He accepted the glass and sat back in his chair, surveying the endless beehive of activity below. “I have spoken with Darcy and Lord Matlock, and deeply appreciate the perspective they gave me from, well from the world that I now inhabit. Darcy recommended that I seek your opinion, as one who can appreciate where I have been.”

  “I understand it is a question of the mills?”

  “Yes.” Bingley turned away from the view and back to Mr. Gardiner. “You see, our looms are run by hand, the fabric is fine, the workers are skilled …” He sighed, “But I am not foolish enough to ignore that times have changed and if Bingley Mills are to continue, they must install steam-powered looms. The volume and capacity, even the quality is significantly better. I know of the fears and objections of the workers, losing employment, but what is better, to change with the times and lose a few positions, or not change at all, and lose the business?”

  “I thought that you leave these decisions to your board, you are merely a figurehead who collects his share?”

  “I am.” Bingley smiled. “However, I have been made an offer for the mills, and I was actually considering that option when I at last purchased an estate, it is just that this has come up sooner than I expected.”

  “So, sell now, without making the improvements, or modernize the factory, and sell for a much higher profit in the future, or …”

  “Modernize and hang on to something that is very well an excellent investment, not to disparage the funds I have given over to you, sir.”

  Chuckling, Mr. Gardiner sat forward and clasped his hands. “No, not a bit of worry there. What do Darcy and Lord Matlock say?”

  “Lord Matlock said sell now, get the money before some radical mob burns the looms in a fit of rage. Darcy would like me to sever the ties to trade, but he is aware that times are changing and that gentlemen are wise to have sources of income beyond their rent money. He has spread his investments in great and diversified ways and his income from Pemberley is not even half of his take. I rather think that his plans are sounder, and his uncle may be mired in the old school thinking.”

  “And now my opinion.” Mr. Gardiner rose to his feet and looked out over his thriving business. “Times are changing Mr. Bingley. Darcy is a man who quietly keeps his finger on the pulse of things. He speaks with me often to get a feel for the up and coming. I say modernize, and hang onto that income. You have been accepted into the world you hoped to inhabit, through Darcy and the Fitzwilliam families, you will do well.”

  “I thought as much.” Bingley sighed. “I just feel for the workers.”

  “I understand, but the change is inevitable, whether by your direction or a new owner.” Mr. Gardiner smiled and sat down. “Speaking of families, I recently spoke to a man who has a daughter of your acquaintance.”

  “Oh?”

  “August Martin. He sells some of your fabrics, has a storefront just three doors down from here.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” Bingley murmured. “How was he?”

  “Oh well, if you know Martin at all you know that he is a man in perpetual motion. A good salesman, although rather challenged on the subtleties of polite conversation. He means well, though.” Bingley nodded and looked at his hands. “He approached me, knowing our friendship …”

  “How?”

  “He asked around after you and Darcy, and traced you to me.”

  Bingley’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Mr. Gardiner chuckled. “Yes. He could hardly believe that the occupants of Pemberley could be so kind to his daughter, inviting her for tea? My goodness. It is simply not done.” Bingley’s brow creased. “Come sir, it is not that long ago that you were the one on the outside looking in, you should understand his curiosity.”

  “I suppose that I do.” He sighed.

  “In any case, Martin said there was some misunderstanding between the two of you when you last spoke and he wished to apologize for it. He completely embarrassed his daughter by thoroughly misinterpreting her musings of you.” Bingley looked up. “She likes you quite a lot, I understand.”

  “Not after I blew up in her face.” He said quietly.

  “No, actually, Lizzy stopped in there a week or so ago when she was here to see me. She and Miss Martin had a nice chat.”

  “Elizabeth … Mrs. Darcy?” His gaped. “What, what, what happened?”

  “I believe that she made it very clear to Miss Martin that she and Darcy are very happily married and that she has never been tempted by another.” Mr. Gardiner’s eyes crinkled. “Miss Martin was most interested and happy to know of such felicity.” Seeing Bingley leaning forward, he added, “She also spoke very kindly of you.”

  “Oh.” He bit his lip. “Really.”

  “Indeed.”

  Bingley noticed a clerk hovering outside of the office door. “Mr. Gardiner, I … I seem to have taken up far too much of your time today, I should be on my way.” Bingley stood and held out his hand. “Thank you, thank you for everything.”

  “I am glad to be of service, Son.” He shook and watched Bingley hurry down the stairs and outside. “There Martin, my promise is discharged.”

  Standing on the curb, Bingley hesitated. “Now what?”

  “Pardon me, sir.” A woman’s voice came behind him.

  Bingley turned around to find Abbey looking up at him. “Miss Martin!”

  “Mr. Bingley!” She blushed and looked down. “I … I did not know that was you.”

  “How would you?” He smiled and laughed. “I hardly have an advertisement on my back.”

  “No. Although it would lend you a distinctive air.” She smiled up at him.

  Seeing the basket on her arm, he held out his hand. “May I help you with that?”

  “Oh, no, it is just some food for Papa. He tends to forget to eat when he works.” She shrugged. “Someone has to look after him.”

  “That is very good of you.” Bingley said softly. “Miss Martin, I … I should have come by long ago and apologized for my appalling behaviour when we last met, I … I never behave so …boorishly.”

  “I understand sir; truly, I was as much at fault. I sometimes let my mouth run away with my thoughts. I was embarrassed.” She saw him nod in understanding and continued with a little more confidence, “Mrs. Darcy was very kind and came by to … defend your honour.” She smiled and he chuckled. “She was very subtle but made her points with precision.”

  “Is that truly possible? To be subtly precise?” He fell into step beside her and they walked towards h
er father’s shop.

  “Well as you are friends with her, you should know. I imagine that you are familiar with her delivery.”

  “Quite. She is as skilled fencing with her tongue as her husband is with his foil.” He laughed and looked up to the sign over the door. “We have arrived.”

  “Yes.” She said softly. “I … I look forward to our evening.”

  “Pardon?” Bingley startled.

  “Mrs. Hurst, she sent an invitation for dinner.” She tried to read his face. “You are displeased?”

  “No, no, no … surprised, I … I …” He smiled at her and relaxed. “Pleased.”

  “So am I.” Abbey relaxed as well. “It will just be Papa and me.”

  “I look forward to this … when?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  Bingley laughed. “So good of my sister to tell me. Tomorrow night, then. I look forward to it.” He glanced up at the sign and back to her, then opened the door for her. “Please give your father my best.”

  “I will, Mr. Bingley.” Abbey smiled as he bowed. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for listening to my friend instead of my bluster.” He watched her pass through and closed the door, meeting her eye through the glass before nodding and thoughtfully walking away.

  “I WILL JOIN YOU in a few minutes, Miss Bennet.” Mrs. Somers said quietly and sent a look to de Bourgh who was listening intently. “I am sure that the captain will use the time judiciously. I will be just outside the door should you need me.” Resisting his urge to reply, he nodded and focussed on Mary.

  “Good Morning, Mary.” He smiled and watched her cross the room.

  “Good Morning, Peter.” She walked past him, closed her eyes for a moment, and turned to take a seat beside him on the sofa. “Tea?”

  “Please.” His lips lifted, watching as she reached for the teapot, and making no mention of how the lid rattled with the unsteady movement of her shaking hands while she poured.

  “Cream?”

  “Sugar.”

  “Of course.” Stirring the steaming cup with a tiny silver spoon, she lifted it, nearly tipping it over.

  De Bourgh’s firm hand immediately arrived to take hold of the saucer. Their fingers touched, his eyes met hers, and taking possession of the scalding liquid, raised the cup to his lips for the slightest taste. “Perfect.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I love you.” Mary blushed and looked to her trembling hands clasped in her lap. When she said nothing, he set down the cup and said in a slightly strained voice, “Would you like to know why?”

  “Very much.” She whispered to the plate of biscuits.

  “Because, dear Mary, you are like me.” He took her hands in his and studied how they fit so neatly in his palms. “We are both shy, both wistful, and both determined, protective, and strong when necessary.”

  “You are a leader of men.” Mary looked up to him at last. “You are not the boy I have been privileged to know from your journals any longer.”

  De Bourgh thought for a moment. “It was a consequence of maturing, and wishing to do well. Just as I believe you have tried to do all on your own.”

  Mary’s eyes cast down with his compliment and she would not acknowledge it. “I admire that about you.” She looked back up to see his warm expression. “Your confidence and strength, your vulnerability.”

  “Those are conflicting descriptions.” He smiled, liking how her words resembled his own.

  “You are a man in conflict, I think. Between your old life and new.”

  “But I am not in conflict about you. I love you.”

  “I love you.” Mary smiled to see his eyes light up.

  “Why?” He squeezed her hands and returned her smile.

  “Because you are like me.”

  “What is that, exactly?”

  Mary watched his fingers entwining with hers, disappearing so it was impossible to tell when one hand began and another ended. “You want to be loved.”

  “So very much.” He said quietly. “Will you be my wife?”

  “Yes.” She said softly and he moved to her side, smoothing away the tears that had appeared and tenderly lifted her jaw to brush her lips with his thumb. Leaning closer, the warmth of their mingled breath, and the invisible pull of their realized desire drew them together. Mary’s tongue appeared to moisten her lips just as his mouth fell upon them. Gently he stroked, and feeling her response, deepened the kiss, not hesitating a moment to taste her. Letting her face go, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, drawing her to his chest, never ending the kiss, just holding her, kissing her, lovingly, passionately, and thrilling when her arms naturally wrapped around him. Tighter and tighter they embraced, melting into each other, until at last, he slowed, ending the kiss, and resting his cheek to hers.

  “I have thought of kissing you for so long.” Mary whispered.

  “You have?” He smiled against her warm pink cheek, then kissed away the steady flow of tears. “Did I meet your expectations?”

  “Oh yes.” She sighed and he laughed softly. “I hope for more.”

  “Oh, I think that there is no worry there, my sweet Mary.” He smiled and chuckled, happily kissing her again. Closing his eyes, he hugged her to him, and they comfortably rested together. “I feel as if we have been this way forever. Why is that?”

  “Similar souls.”

  “Hmm.” Looking back down at her upturned face, he caressed her cheek and kissed her lingeringly. “You have stopped trembling.”

  “So have you.”

  “I was not trembling.”

  “Your voice shook, if not your hands.”

  “Mary …” Her brow rose and he laughed. “Do you know that you resemble your sister when you do that?”

  “When she stares at Fitzwilliam?” She smiled happily. “I do?”

  “Yes.” De Bourgh kissed her brow then sighed, “I have kissed you now, and I am lost.” His mouth captured hers once again, and Mary, shy, nervous, invisible Mary, responded in kind. De Bourgh started to laugh and leaned back to look at her. “Am I to wed a wanton?”

  “Am I wrong to want to kiss you? Fitzwilliam made me throw away Dr. Fordyce’s sermons …” She was silenced by de Bourgh’s mouth. Neither one heard the repeated throat clearing and warnings from Mrs. Somers, who had entered and was looking between them and the hallway.

  “Have you married, sir? Remove yourself from my sister immediately!” Darcy’s deep and displeased voice boomed through the room. They jumped, and Elizabeth turned her head to hide it behind Darcy’s back. The sight of Mary and de Bourgh with flushed faces, dishevelled clothes and hair, and his prominent arousal made her want to laugh at their condition, while simultaneously chastising her sister vehemently for becoming carried away so quickly. Darcy gripped her hand tightly but maintained his fierce gaze. “Sir?”

  “It was no more than ten minutes, Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Somers said worriedly, “I had just stepped in.”

  “I understand, Mrs. Somers. You may go, I am in charge now.” He kept his eyes on de Bourgh.

  “Darcy.” De Bourgh spoke as the couple quickly stood and he gasped, stared down at his breeches, shot a glance at Mary who had hung her head and was now staring with an open mouth at the fall, then looked to Elizabeth, who was biting her lip and trying to look everywhere but, and failing spectacularly. Darcy looked to see where his wife’s gaze was centred and stared at her expressively. Without a word, Elizabeth advanced into the room and took Mary’s hand to lead her out. When they had gone and the door had been shut behind them, de Bourgh; now flushed and a bit defiant; sank back onto the sofa. “Good Lord.”

  “What the devil were you doing?” Darcy cried. “Ten minutes? How eager were you? What on earth did you say to her?”

  “I … Damn it, Darcy I …” He sighed and held his head in his hands. “Did you not kiss Elizabeth when you proposed?”

  “Of course, but I also had to return to a ball. We had a very emotional conversation; it was no si
mple request for her hand. I had to work for her approval. You know better. Life on ship is no excuse from knowing proper conduct with a young woman you wish to marry. She is an innocent, you must remember that!” Tossing a pillow onto de Bourgh’s lap, he lifted his chin when de Bourgh looked up in surprise. “I have no desire to see yours.”

  Placing the pillow, he shook his head. “I am so embarrassed. She was staring at it.”

  “At least she did not run away.” Darcy shrugged and at last let down his affront. “Now then, you are engaged?”

  “Yes.” Relaxing at last, he smiled. “Yes, she said yes.”

  “And?”

  “And?

  “I suppose that you do have Mr. Bennet’s blessing.” Darcy acknowledged. “And of course you have mine. I would think a good long engagement would be best.”

  “Long?” de Bourgh cried. “Why?”

  “So that you would learn how to keep your feelings under good regulation.”

  “See here Darcy, I got a little carried away, I …” He saw a hint of a smile on Darcy’s lips. “You are mocking me!”

  “Am I?” He quirked a brow. “Shall we discuss the wedding date?”

  “Wedding. You do move along, it has been mere moments since …”

  “Did you not just object to a long engagement? You know that wherever Elizabeth took Mary, that is the subject of conversation.”

  “Why did you have her leave?” De Bourgh sat up and demanded.

  “Because you, my friend and future brother, were indecent before my sister and my wife. Would you approve of such a display before your sisters?” Darcy raised his brows and stood to walk over to a decanter. “You have to move gradually, de Bourgh, control your urges, introduce her slowly. Remember she is following your lead and wants to please you. This is your wife, respect her. Surely you know these things?” Darcy turned and searched his eyes and saw him nod. “Good, I am uncomfortable with this subject. How are you doing?”

  He lifted the pillow. “Recovering.”

  “Here.” Darcy handed him a glass and they looked up when the door opened and Lucas appeared. “Come, we are toasting the news.”