by Wells, Linda
“I feel like an utter failure, though.” He sighed. “Darcy told me how hard this would be.”
“Miss Martin, again?”
“Darcy keeps telling me to be completely open with her, lay out my heart, and be prepared for the consequences if I do not.”
“Bingley, one thing at a time. You have to worry about the future of the looms today, worry about the future of your name tomorrow.” They rolled to a stop and stepped out to stand before a large red brick house. “Ahhh, the family home.”
“Not anymore.” Bingley looked up to the window that had once been the nursery. “I am glad to have sold this.”
“No reason to keep it. You are long past living here.” Hurst put his arm around his shoulder and they walked to the door. “Come, face the ghosts.”
Laughing softly, they entered and were immediately shown up the stairs to the sitting room, occupied by a woman of fifty years, who came straight to Bingley’s side and did not hesitate to take his hands. “Oh, look at you!” She cried.
“Mrs. Porter.” He smiled and squeezed her hands. “You are as lovely as ever.”
“You do have your father’s charm; there is no doubt about that!” The small woman with gray, once black, hair smiled and studied him. “Oh dear, you are your father, how handsome he was.” Bingley’s face coloured under her intense inspection and the silence became increasingly uncomfortable when he noticed her eyes welling up with tears. Hurst cleared his throat and looked at him pointedly.
“Mrs. Porter, I do not know if you remember my brother, Mr. Hurst? He married Louisa?”
“Oh.” She blushed and finally let go of his hands to turn to Hurst and curtsey. “I believe that I saw you one time when you came to call on Mr. Bingley, your father, dear, when you were courting Miss Louisa. How is she?”
“Very well, madam, she said to convey her best wishes and to thank you for putting up with us, in case we forgot to thank you ourselves.”
“Oh, yes!” Bingley cried. “I meant to thank you …”
“Ah, that is your father.” She smiled at him fondly again then shook her head. “Well, the board is at the mill, they were not sure exactly when you would arrive, but they are planning to meet here in an hour or so. There is time for you two to relax a bit. Shall I show you up to your rooms?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Porter, I promised Louisa I would write to her as soon as we arrived, and I promised to walk out and see if I could find a certain treat at the confectioner’s for her.”
“Something that is not in London?” She laughed. “I can hardly imagine!”
“Just not as good; and …well, I do not wish to intrude on my brother’s business. I am merely along for the ride.” He smiled at Bingley.
“How is Caroline? Acerbic as ever?” Mrs. Porter tossed over her shoulder as she led the way across the hall towards the bedchambers. “Has motherhood mellowed her at all?”
The men exchanged glances. “She is resting at our brother’s estate.” Bingley offered.
“With or without your brother?”
“Currently, with.”
“That was a careful answer.” Mrs. Porter replied humourlessly when she arrived at a chamber. “She is the picture of your mother.” Opening the door she waved. “For you Mr. Hurst. I see that you travelled without your servants, my husband’s valet will be glad to aid you during your stay.”
“Thank you, madam.” He bowed and entered. “I will see you after the meeting, Bingley.”
“Yes.” Bingley followed Mrs. Porter along until they stopped at another door. “My old chambers.” He smiled.
“I thought that you might like them, dear.” She opened the door and he passed in. “Fond memories or would you rather move elsewhere?”
“No, fond for the most part.” He looked around. “The paper has changed.”
“It was hideous, you had to admit.” She looked around and touched the furniture.
“Mrs. Porter …” Bingley hesitated, and she smiled up at him again. “You knew my father, well, differently than I did.”
“Socially?”
“Yes.” He sighed and said nothing as his luggage was brought in, and the servant bowed before leaving them alone. “I really only knew the ambitious businessman. I rarely saw him, he was always at work. And when I did see him he was eager only to hear of my attempts to join the society he aspired to enter.”
“Only on your holidays when he would parade you around.” She smiled when he blushed. “I saw how uncomfortable you were.”
“I could not deny him, I was living his dream.”
“Yes.” She said softly. “The dream that his father put in his head, and made him blind to everything else.”
“I have always sensed a deep dislike for my mother from you.”
“I did not hide it well.” She shrugged. “She stole my Charles, but then if he had married me, there would be no you.” She patted his hand. “And the world is far better with the gentleman you are.”
Bingley stared. “You and father were …”
“Friendly.”
“Did you court?”
“In a way.” She went over to a chair and sat down. “We loved each other’s company, we laughed and danced.” Mrs. Porter smiled at him, but was seeing another young man. “He was sweet and kind, and very good.”
“What happened?”
“Ambition, pride, pressure to do as his father wished.” She shrugged. “He met the girl who was to be your mother. Her father was in trade as well, but a little higher up. A little closer to the social sphere, more experience, and speaking of ambition, well! She heard of your grandfather’s desire to have his son in an estate and how he was saving for it, and that was it, she latched onto him, your grandfather, I mean, buttering him up so he looked at her and thought this was the ideal woman to move your father forward. I was pretty and lively, but I was not the girl your grandfather saw coming down the stairs and welcoming the top of society into the Bingley mansion. Of course your father listened to his father and naturally …”
“Became as ambitious, and continued to save for that estate.” Bingley nodded, now seeing where his father’s almost singleminded pursuit was born. “Do you think that Father would have been happy simply continuing the mill and not pursuing being a gentleman?”
“I do not know.” She said softly. “I think that he hoped to be the man in the great house, he was raised to believe that was his destiny. But I think that he might have pursued it differently, perhaps even still be living now to enjoy that success instead of leaving it on your shoulders to achieve.”
“Do you believe that Mother drove him to his early grave?”
“He did not marry for love, dear. It just was not done, not if something better could come of a proper match.” She sighed. “Do not listen to me. I am the jilted lover, and I will never like your mother.”
“I understand that.” He went to stand by the window and slumped against it. “There is a wonderful young lady, who I like very much.”
“Oh?” She watched his shoulders sag. “Is she of the society you now occupy?”
“No. She is of the society I left behind.”
“And she is, sweet and lively?”
He turned and smiled. “Yes, she frightens me sometimes with how fiery she can become, but I think that is good for me, she is strong, but not in an acerbic way.” Mrs. Porter’s brows rose. “I have tried so hard to be kind and for lack of a better word, gentlemanly with her. I told her I wished to wait until I moved into the estate before I became serious about my future choices.”
“She is not so patient?”
“She is frightened, I think. Of course, she is a woman, and she sees possibilities with other men, good men, and she wishes to know if I …” He sighed, and looked at his hands. “There is another lady, a most suitable lady, one from … .”
“Ahhhhh, the one who would be ideal for walking down the stairs of the Bingley mansion, the one who would be perfect in the society you inhabit, everything abou
t her is perfect?” He nodded. “And this first girl, the one who would struggle to fit in, knows of her?”
“She knows that she will be in the same area when I move into Netherfield.”
“So she pushes for you to make a decision before then.”
“I believe that is why, yes.”
“Do you love the suitable girl?”
“No, but I like her. She has her own problems, but she could …” He turned back to the window. “With time, I am sure that she might grow on me, I do not really know her.”
“Well that is a declaration of commitment that would make the angels weep.” Mrs. Porter clucked when he shook his head. “The unsuitable girl,” he turned and sent her a sharp look, “hmm, the other girl, then, do you love her?”
“I would like to.” He said softly.
“Look at me, Charles.” Their eyes met. “I am the other girl for your father. I was left behind for the suitable one, and yes, your father had a beautiful home, three healthy children, a good son who is fulfilling his dreams, and I married the decent man who eventually took over the business when your father died, and gave him children and a good home.” She wiped the tears that fell down her cheek, “But each time we met, each time we spoke, the regret was there, in our eyes, in our voices. He made the prudent choice. I believe that if he were alive today and listening to you, he would tell you to act differently.” Standing up she walked over to embrace him. “If I had ever been blessed with a son by your father, I pray that he would have been you.” She kissed his cheek and wiped away a tear that was rolling down it. “Now, you have a very important meeting about the fate of a great many people, you have enough on your shoulders for one day. Wash your face, dear. I will send up some wine for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Porter.” He kissed her cheek and watched her go. “Thank you.”
ELIZABETH’S EYES FLEW OPEN with the shattering sound of a thunderclap. The crack of the lightning strike made her jump nearly out of the bed. Darcy’s hands found her waist and he pulled her back against his chest. Hard rain started pounding against the window as once again thunder and lightning filled the dark night.
“You are shaking.”
“It is only thunder, only thunder.” She whispered and drew a sharp breath, turning to hide against his neck with the next clap. “Ohhh, too close, much too close!”
Hooking his chin over her shoulder, he looked out of the window and watched the sky flashing. “It still frightens you? Even now? Think of how spectacular this is; imagine the power that makes night into day.”
“I cannot stop thinking of the power.” Crack “Ohhhh!” She burrowed in closer. “Make it stop!”
“I cannot control the weather, love.” He chuckled. “Any closer and you will be inside of me.”
“That is silly.” She frowned.
“I am not the grown woman hiding from a little storm.”
“It is not little, it is enough to make Noah’s flood seem like a puddle.”
“Who is being silly?” Darcy murmured as he kissed her ear and rubbed her back. “You are safe, you are not on top of Oakham Mount, you are not sitting under a tree that is about to be struck.”
“That was so frightening.”
“I can only imagine.” He considered ways to reassure the frightened girl who lay in his arms. Every big storm was the same, if they were in bed, she was curled against him, if it was daytime, she would come looking for him. If he was not home … He closed his eyes, remembering her haunted look the last time he had been caught in a storm and she had stood vigil watching for his return. “What shall we talk about?”
“Anything. Please.”
“You are no help at all, if you were not so scared, I would still be asleep.” He looked back at her and she glared. BOOM “Well, maybe not.” Darcy chuckled when his prodding made the woman reappear, and he renewed his embrace. “At least it is raining now instead of during the fair. I had a very nice time.”
“You did?” Elizabeth’s head popped up and she smiled. “Oh I am so glad. We have never had the opportunity to attend before.”
“That is because the occupants of Pemberley never attended such events, dearest.”
“Well they do now.” She declared and he squeezed her.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Why would you not go? It was not so different from Vauxhall, less refined, but essentially the same events, dancing, boxing, circus performers …”
Nuzzling his nose under her ear, he kissed her throat and rested his head on her shoulder. “I never attended Vauxhall until you came along. I had never done so many things until you inspired me. Until you made me.” He smiled when he felt her laugh. “And I never would have enjoyed them with any other woman.”
“So you are glad to have attended?”
“Well …” He jumped when she pinched him just as another loud clap of thunder sounded, and she jumped back into his arms. “Yes, love.” They kissed. “Besides, if we had not gone, Kitty would have missed her dancing.”
“She was very popular.” Elizabeth smiled and relaxed. Darcy kissed her hair and closed his eyes. “So many young men.”
“Unsuitable young men.”
“Not all of them were unsuitable.” He said nothing and she sighed, “Fitzwilliam, she was only dancing, not looking for a husband, she is in no way ready for that.”
“Thankfully.” He murmured sleepily.
She lifted her head and saw that he was drifting off, and settled back against him. The rumble of thunder and flashes of light seemed to be moving farther away. Soon, his soft snoring and the gentle puffs of air against her neck were louder than the retreating storm. “That is better.” She watched his chest rise and fall, then closed her eyes. “Thank you, Will.”
17 JULY 1811
Fitzwilliam just came in and kissed me, and said that he had some urgent business on the estate. After last night’s storm I can imagine there might be flooding problems, he was not sure what was wrong, but he was to meet both Nichols and Matthews. I hope that it is not as bad as he fears; his eyes gave away his concern.
I intend to speak with Kitty this morning and thank her for being so considerate of Georgiana at the fair. While our primary reason for going was to enjoy a day out, hers was to enjoy her new freedom to dance. Since she is not officially out for another two weeks, we limited her opportunities to only young men known to our family. Kitty did not protest or complain, and when she was sitting out, she always joined Georgiana, who was bound to feel left out. Of course Fitzwilliam offered to dance with her, but she declined. Later she told me that she would love to dance with her elder brother at home but not in a crowd of young people. I tried to hide my laughter, poor Fitzwilliam, has your sister labeled you a stick in the mud? Well I suppose that at fifteen she might think of you as terribly stiff.
I received a letter from Louisa Hurst that her brother and husband arrived safely in Scarborough. I suspect that Mr. Bingley will write to Fitzwilliam soon with his plans. She also mentioned that Mr. Robinson has departed for Swansdon, and will attempt to reconcile with his wife. I am unsure of my feelings on that. The man’s past is ugly, both from his miserable childhood and then his behavior as an adult, but he has proven quite clearly that he is a changed individual, and for the better. I hope for his son’s sake that he finds Mrs. Robinson amenable to his hopes, and changed herself.
“You can hope all you wish, Lizzy, but that woman is concerned solely with herself, I am sure of it.” She glanced at the clock and put her journal away. It was time to visit with Rosalie before beginning her duties.
Setting off at her characteristically brisk pace, she paused when she heard a voice floating through a window. Moving closer, she touched her belly. “That is your Papa. Do you hear him when he talks? Someday he will take you for walks around the house and tell you secrets. Someday he will sit with you in the nursery and discuss his worries, and ask you for advice on how to manage your silly mama who is afraid of a little thunder.” Hearing conversatio
n, she stepped to the window where she saw Darcy on horseback below, pointing up at the house and talking with Nichols. “But until then, he will just lay his head on my stomach and beg you to be well. Please be well for your papa, dear. He is so excited to meet you.” Leaning against the window frame, she listened to the indistinct rumble of his voice and studied her husband clearly at work. She loved watching him transform into the master, and seeing him turning his mount and galloping quickly away sent a thrill through her from head to toe. It was so tempting to throw open the window and call for him to come and take her for a ride. Behave yourself, Lizzy!
“Mrs. Darcy?”
“Oh!” Elizabeth straightened. “Yes, Matthews, what can I do for you?”
Seeing the master’s horse disappearing around the house, he quickly contained his desire to laugh at his smitten mistress. “It is rather what I may do for you. There was some damage discovered from the storm, if you come with me, I can show you?”
“Certainly.” She fell into step with him. “I suppose that is what Mr. Darcy was observing with Nichols. Is that what the urgent meeting was about? How is the house holding up? It is so old; I am amazed there are not more problems arising than I already know about.”
“It is actually very sound.” He looked around as they came to the stairway and headed up. “I have looked over all of the items that concerned Mr. Darcy, and have found that he missed nothing.” Noting Elizabeth’s lack of surprise, he continued, “There are some plaster issues, but I think that it is safe to say that the house settled long ago.” Bowing slightly, he indicated that she should precede him. “The guest wing was damaged.”
“Well at least it is not the family wing. The only visitors we expect in the near future are Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst.”
“For the hunting season? I know that the gamekeeper is rather pleased with the deer and the coveys. He caught a few poachers while you were away.” He said thoughtfully.