by Wells, Linda
“I think that we are nearing Lambton, I saw that old barn that has been threatening to fall, I believe that it has at last made good on it.”
“Hmm, Fitzwilliam won that one.” He stretched a little and yawned. “I cannot imagine why I am so sleepy.”
“No, I have no idea.” They exchanged smiles and he chuckled.
Kitty looked up from her drawing. “Did you hear all that noise during the night? Someone must have had a terrible belly ache, all that moaning!”
Georgiana put down her book and nodded. “I know, and there was a lady, too. Did you hear her? I felt terrible for the poor thing! Her nerves must have been terribly afflicted.”
“It must have been the beef; I heard a man in the dining room remark that it was underdone.” Kitty said seriously and looked across to Darcy and Elizabeth. “You two are not becoming ill are you, you look awfully red!”
“Oh.” Elizabeth put her hands to her burning cheeks. “We are fine; it is just a little warm here.”
“Yes.” Darcy glanced at her before lowering the window. “A little overheated.”
“Jane was ill before we left; oh I hope it is not catching.” Georgiana fretted.
“I am sure that it is not.” Elizabeth assured her and looked up to Darcy.
“You never know, we just might be suffering the same burden.” His lips lifted in a little smile. “Tell me what you read.”
“Oh.” She opened the journal. “Let us see. Here it is. 13 June, 1795.”
“That is today!” Kitty cried. “I would almost have been one. How old were you?”
“I was ten.” He smiled. “And my dear wife was almost four.”
“Little did you know what was coming.” Elizabeth murmured as he chuckled, then read aloud, “Father and Mother looked particularly grand last night, as well they should! Such a ball! My dear Anne wondered if she could ever host something so beautiful, and I assured her that one day when she was mistress of Pemberley, she would make all of our ancestors proud. So lovely she was, especially to see her flaxen hair so beautifully arranged. Mother tried to convince her that we could afford the tax and should continue to wear our wigs as befits our status, but my Anne displayed her Fitzwilliam stubbornness and refused. I must say that I admired her determination and will follow her lead. My head itches terribly from the wig. I do not care if it is unfashionable of not, that miserable ornament is meeting the lake tomorrow, and despite Mother’s remonstrations, I am bathing there as well. One way or another I will convince Annie to jump in with me!”
They all laughed, especially Darcy. “I can just see my grandmother scolding Mother about how to dress appropriately, and heaven forbid they immerse their bodies in water! I certainly appreciate Father’s determination to be clean.”
“When did your grandparents die? I did not realize that your father was not master of Pemberley when you were so old.”
“Oh.” Darcy looked at the date again. “It was later that year, I believe. I was at Matlock that autumn so I imagine that they must have been ill and I was kept away. I do not know; it is hazy at best. Parents do not always tell their children the truth; I came home to find Father was master. I remember I rode the hunt with Richard and Layton for the first time that year.” He said thoughtfully. “Uncle Henry was not home to stop us, but when I returned home I remember telling Father all about it, and he was not displeased.” Darcy smiled at Georgiana. “Our father was a man who embraced life. I have come to know him quite well through these pages. Even in his darkest times, he clung to symbols of life.”
“What symbols were those?” Elizabeth laid her head back on his shoulder.
“I will take you there, love.” He kissed her nose. “I understand now.”
“Read another!” Georgiana begged.
“Hmmm.” Elizabeth picked up another volume and flipped through the pages. “Let us see. 23 December 1796, I am filled with joy this day! I travelled to Windsor and have retrieved Fitzwilliam from Eton. We are to London for Christmas. Little Georgiana is home at Pemberley, I would not risk the journey with her, but neither did I wish to miss seeing my boy. I cannot say enough how I have missed him. It had been rough going for him, away from home for the first time and with no Anne to send comfort, but I did my best, buoying him as well as myself when I wrote. He was gaunt when I found him waiting. I understand that he was always tired and nearly impossible to wake. The boys who shared his dormitory were most eager to tell me of their various attempts to wake him each day, poor lad! He bore the attention stoically; he is so serious and changed. I understand his reluctance to wake, perhaps one day he will find someone who can convince him that the day is worth facing. In any case, I am determined to give him a good time in London. I think that we will prowl the bookshops first, he assures me that he is in desperate need of fresh material.” Darcy’s brow was creased in thought and Elizabeth startled him when she spoke again, “Will? I only just now realized that waking you is no trouble at all, and has not been for a very long time.”
“I was just thinking that.” He smiled. “I had not realized it either.”
“Look!” Georgiana cried. “Lambton!”
“Almost home.” Elizabeth sighed. “I am ready.”
THE CLOCK TICKED STEADILY, breaking the almost painful silence. Mrs. Martin cleared her throat and stirred her tea, then looked meaningfully at Abbey. “The weather has been most delightful.”
“Yes.” The nervous young man glanced at the window. “Quite.”
“Are your parents enjoying the Season, Mr. McCoy?” Mrs. Martin said brightly. “I hope that they are taking advantage of the variety of entertainment?”
“They enjoy the theatre, madam, but not so much the balls. Too crowded, it brings on Mother’s nerves, you see.”
“Oh, well, she is a lady; it is only to be expected.” She took a sip from her cup. There was a distant knock and everyone looked towards the drawing room door. Boots were heard on the steps and Abbey glanced at her sister, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Mr. Peterson, madam.” The maid announced as everyone stood.
“Mrs. Martin, Miss Martin, Miss Amanda.” The man bowed and rose, casting his gaze over the other. “McCoy.”
“Peterson.”
“Come, have some tea with us!” Mrs. Martin gushed. “How nice it is to have two such handsome gentlemen calling today! I was just asking Mr. McCoy how his parents enjoy the Season.”
“Ah, I have not seen them about often, McCoy.”
“They enjoy the quieter events, they do not like the push and pull of the crowds.”
“Hmm, shame that, I suppose that you take after them? After counting money all day, you prefer a nice toddy and perhaps a comforter?”
“I am five and twenty; I am not an old man, Peterson.” He turned to Abbey. “I am sure that any proper young lady would appreciate a gentleman who prefers his place at home.”
“Of course, a gentleman who is happy in his home is undoubtedly content in his life.” She smiled.
“But does he ever leave it?” Peterson asked. “I, for example, come here today to ask for your company at a ball, Miss Martin. Would not dancing be far more attractive than an evening of quiet contemplation?” He saw Mrs. Martin’s eyes light up. “Of course you and your husband will come to chaperone; and Miss Amanda, you are out, you are welcome as well.”
“It sounds delightful, sir.” Mrs. Martin smiled and nodded at Abbey.
“Mr. Peterson, I was here first, so any request for Miss Martin’s time should also be made by me first. And just so you know, I do dance.”
“Then why do you not ask? The maid said you have been here nearly a half hour.” Peterson sat back and folded his arms. “It is possible that our events do not cross.”
“I do not jump headlong into … conversations. I consider the lady’s feelings, I …” Another knock was heard and the party quieted. The door was opened then shut, and the maid arrived at the doorway.
“What is it, Sarah?”
“A
calling card, madam.” She entered and handed it to the mistress. “The gentleman heard that you were entertaining and did not wish to interfere.”
“Mr. Bingley.” Mrs. Martin gasped and looked to Abbey, who blushed and took the card. Mr. Charles Bingley, Esq. On the back was scratched, Louisa invites you to meet Wallace at your convenience.
“Bingley?” Peterson frowned.
“He is a gentleman.” Amanda offered.
“Gentleman?” McCoy asked. “Another one? How many men are buzzing around this house, Miss Martin?”
“One too many for your liking, sir?” Abbey lifted her chin and met his eye. “Did you have a question for me?”
“Who is Bingley?” He demanded.
“He is a friend.” Abbey said softly and looked at the card. “Just a friend.”
“WHERE IS SHE?” Mrs. Reynolds cried. “Oh dear, if she finds the … Miss Rosalie, no!”
Rosalie came to a stop at the top of the marble stairs and looked back at Mrs. Reynolds with a bright smile and pointed. “Papa!”
“No, dear. Papa is busy. Come here.” She said softly and crept forward. Mrs. Robbins strode past her and took hold of Rosalie.
“Never run away from me again! You could be hurt!” Instantly, Rosalie began to sob.
Hearing her daughter’s piercing wail, Elizabeth appeared from Darcy’s study. “What on earth is wrong?”
“Miss Rosalie escaped, madam, and was about to walk down the stairs. I think that disaster was imminent.”
“And how did she manage to escape in the first place?” Elizabeth closed the study door and headed up the stairs to her daughter. “Miss Rosa, what are you doing?”
“Mamaaaaaaa!”
“No, do not Mama me.” Elizabeth picked her up. “You do not go down the stairs. No.”
“No!” Rosalie shook her head.
Sighing, Elizabeth assessed the situation. “I knew this day was coming, it is the only thing that frightened me about coming home.” Sitting down at the top of the steps, she put Rosalie next to her. “Watch Mama.” She slid down one step on her bottom. Rosalie stared at her. “You do it. Come on.” She patted the step. “Down.”
“Mrs. Darcy, you will be filthy!”
“Are you telling me that the staff does not clean the stairs, Mrs. Reynolds?”
“No madam.” Mrs. Reynolds looked at Mrs. Robbins.
“Mrs. Darcy; is it wise to teach her to go down …”
“If she has a method, she will use it.” Elizabeth patted the step again. “Down.”
“Dow.” Rosalie scooted.
“Good.” Elizabeth slid down another. “Down.”
“Dow.”
The study door opened and Darcy appeared, then startled at the sight of Elizabeth and Rosalie travelling the steps on their bottoms. He crossed his arms and stood to the side, not saying a word until they reached the end.
“Good girl!” Elizabeth cried, then picking her up, walked to the top of the steps. “Never go down alone.” She looked meaningfully at the staff, who all nodded. “Now, show me how to go down.” Instantly Rosalie sat and slid. She looked backwards to her mother and received a warm smile. “Go on.” She slowly made her way to the bottom and Elizabeth, still at the top, clapped. Rosalie clapped as well, and then squealed when Darcy arrived to pick her up.
“Good girl!” He kissed her and smiled as Elizabeth joined them. “What prompted that lesson?”
“She was going to walk down; and Mrs. Reynolds was going to suffer apoplexy.” Elizabeth said softly.
“Walk!” Darcy looked at the steps and then to his happily babbling daughter. “No wonder you closed the door.”
“I did not want you to suffer apoplexy, either!” She laughed and kissed him. “Not on our anniversary!”
“Next time, do not tell me.” He clutched the baby and kissed her. Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Robbins arrived, and he became stern. “I presume that she will not escape often?”
“No sir.” Mrs. Robbins sighed. “We were going to take a walk and she went running for you.”
“I did not need to hear that either.” He sighed. “Running for me she falls down the stairs.”
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth smiled, “are you ready for our walk?”
“Yes.” He set Rosalie down on the floor and knelt before her. “Be good.”
“Papa.” She clasped his neck and gave him a wet kiss.
“Thank you.” He kissed her and rising, ruefully wiped his cheek with Elizabeth’s handkerchief. “Goodbye, little love.”
“Bye!” She waved and in a flash, she had run off down the hallway.
“She is your daughter.” Darcy looked after her. “She will have my hair gray before I am much older.”
“Just wait until you have some boys.” Elizabeth laughed and he took her hand.
“Hmm, now that is something to work on.” Walking to the door, a footman opened it and two horses were waiting for them. “I thought that riding would be better. We have some ground to cover.”
“A tour?” She held his shoulders as he lifted her up onto Emma’s saddle. Darcy smiled up at her and fussed over her stirrup, then walked around to mount Richard. “Will, where are we going?”
“An explanation is due.”
“Ahhhh, at last.” They set off at a leisurely pace around the house and to the small Pemberley graveyard.
Darcy stayed on his mount and pointed. “My mother, my father, my brothers and sisters.” Elizabeth looked at the graves and back to him. His expression was serious, but not pained. “Their physical remains lie here. These monuments mark that they existed, even though my sisters never breathed.”
“Will …”
He shook his head. “Come.” Turning his horse, he led the way back around the house and towards the lake, then down the pathway and through the trees. They rode silently, Darcy lost in thought as every piece of the puzzle came together, and the voice in his head was his father’s, cheering him on. Elizabeth rode behind him, studying his straight back and confident form, and wondering what the connection was between his lost family and their glade. When at last Richard poked his head into the clearing, Darcy rode forward a little then stopped, jumping down and tying him off. Elizabeth waited for him to come around and help her off of Emma. Bending forward she rested her hands on his shoulders, and his came around her waist to slowly slide her down and into his arms. “Do you know where we are?” He whispered into her hair and hugged her tightly.
“Tell me.”
“We are in the embrace of our family.”
“I do not understand.”
Darcy brushed her cheek with his fingers and leaned in to kiss her. “Your tree. Do you know why I planted it?”
“So that I would live on forever.” She whispered when he turned her around to look at the young tree and its companion rose bush. Darcy’s hands came around her waist and she leaned back against him.
“It is an elm.”
“Yes.” She looked back to him. He smiled and taking her by the hand, he led the way on a walk around the perimeter of the glade.
“All of the trees of the forest are oaks and pine.” He waved over the view. “Except …” He walked up to a formidable tree. “This one. An Elm.” Pointing to the bark, she could see, barely, the letter “L”. “This is for my brother Leighton.” Turning her, they walked across the glade to another tree, the same size, and he rubbed it. “George.” He pointed to two smaller trees, “my sisters.” Again he walked her to the smallest tree but one. “Mother.” Darcy turned to Elizabeth and tears were running down his face. “Mother could not bear to visit her children’s graves, but Father wanted her to have a place of peace to come and remember them. They found this glade long ago, when they were the young couple seeking to escape the house where he was not yet master and she was not yet mistress. They came here to be alone, and talk, and love.” Darcy swallowed. “Just as we do.” He turned and looked around him. “I found this place when I was so alone as a boy, and I would come here and feel
safe and loved.”
“Safe in your family’s arms.” Elizabeth whispered.
“Father told me of this place, but I did not understand; it always came in little bits. Perhaps he wished me to discover it on my own. Perhaps with you.” He smiled and hugged her tightly. “I thought that I was so brilliant planting your tree, but it was in my memory all along.”
“What is that?”
He held her hand and they walked over to a bundle of burlap. Inside were two saplings. Darcy let go and picked up a spade that was leaning against a tree. “I realized that two trees were missing here.”
“Nobody knew to plant one for your father.”
“And I thought …” He started to dig and Elizabeth watched him working. Carefully she unwrapped the trees and holding one steady, he filled in the dirt, tamping it down. He looked to where she was gently caressing the leaves of the other tree. “Where should we put him?”
“Next to his grandmother.” Elizabeth said softly and they walked hand in hand to Anne’s tree. “She is watching after him now.” The steady sound of the spade removing soil mixed with the scattered birdsong, and soon, Darcy stood aside as Elizabeth held the living memorial in place. Darcy placed the last of the soil around it and tenderly touched the leaves. She took his hand and entwined her fingers with his. “Thank you.”
“I … I needed to do something.”
“You are still hurting, too?”
“I knew you were. You just needed to not be so brave all of the time.” He smiled and caressed her cheek, brushing away the tears. “Now.” He sniffed and smiled. “I have saddlebags filled with … I do not know, but I am sure that it is both satisfying and delicious.”
Laughing, Elizabeth hugged him. “Well, my goodness; let us go see what it could be!”
“No fireworks this year, I hope you are not disappointed, we do not have a convenient pleasure garden to visit.”
“No, I am not disappointed at all.” They reached the horses and he set down the spade. Working the straps on the bags, he handed her a blanket and then removed a bag holding wine and another stuffed with food. She laid out the blanket and laughed when she turned around to find him barefoot, coatless, and untying his cravat. “What are you doing?”