by Wells, Linda
“That is the spirit, Father.” Lucas smiled and rolled his eyes at Michael.
“I suspect that the rest of the neighbourhood will not be so kind.” Charlotte nodded. “They have endured her for a long time, over many subjects. They will enjoy taking her down, and I suspect that she does not have the charm to rise again, despite her position in the neighbourhood.”
“What about Kitty?” Maria asked quietly.
Jane smiled to see her concern. “Are you worried about her remaining with Mama?”
“I think that she might be forced to attend Mrs. Bennet, that is not fair, is it? Maybe she could come and stay with us?” She looked at her mother. “Just for a little while?”
“That is very kind of you, dear.” Mrs. Lucas looked to Jane. “What do you think?”
“I think that she has to make that decision for herself.” They entered the church and again, it was clear that the news had not been spread yet. Jane sighed with relief and smiled until she looked up the aisle. There in the front of the church, in their accustomed pew, sat Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Kitty, and Mrs. Annesley. “oh.”
“Come, dear. Let us put this plan of yours in motion.” Stoically, Lucas led her up the aisle, and they stopped next to Mr. Bennet. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning Papa, Mama, Kitty …”
Mr. Bennet rose and bowed. “Good morning.” Mrs. Bennet was sitting stiffly and staring ahead, dabbing at her eyes. “Mrs. Bennet is not feeling very talkative, but she surely did not wish to miss services.” He looked down at her. “Did you, Mrs. Bennet?”
“Of course not.” She sniffed.
Mr. Bennet smiled and looked between Jane and Lucas, speaking softly. “Next Sunday will not be so easy. Enjoy this calm while it lasts.”
“WHERE ARE THEY? They are always up at the crack of dawn! Has anyone seen Adams about? What does he say? Are they off walking somewhere? Where is Rosalie?” Bingley ran halfway up the steps and craned his neck, trying to see through the railing to the floor above. “It is time to go!”
“It is not.” Hurst pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time against the large clock ticking in the hallway. “We need not go for nearly an hour.”
“But the roads …”
“They are fine.” De Bourgh stepped out of the dining room. “That little bit of drizzle will not slow us down. You, however, had better calm yourself. Come on, eat something, you do not wish to faint before Miss Martin, do you?”
“No.” Bingley stamped down the steps and stood at the bottom, looking anxiously when he heard a door close and groaning to see a maid passing at the head of the stairs. “Maybe they have decided to remain behind …”
“No.” De Bourgh walked forward and turning Bingley around, gave him a solid shove into the dining room. “Those two are accustomed to facing adversity, and they know their duty to make an appearance.”
“No matter how much they want to avoid it.” Hurst added, and glancing up the stairs, raised his brow to de Bourgh, who shrugged.
Hearing the men’s voices carrying through the open door, Elizabeth looked up from where she sat opposite Darcy in the library, “Mr. Bingley is losing control.”
“Yes, I hear him. I suppose that we should have had breakfast with everyone, but I really just wanted to be with my ladies this morning. We will join them shortly.” Smiling to see her pleasure, he sanded the letter he was writing and sealed it, then glancing to where Rosalie was seated beside him, busily scribbling over an old newspaper, he took the letter Elizabeth held out for him. “From your uncle?” His forehead creased as he read. “He seems to think that Mr. Martin is overreacting.”
“Do you?”
“His worries about the industry are valid, and I appreciate him seeking reassurance while wishing to avoid his daughter’s unhappiness by saying something unnecessary. He has learned from his mistakes.”
“Does Mr. Bingley know of the problems?”
“Of course he does. We speak of it often.” He looked up to see her gaze focussed on him. “Perhaps a new discussion is in order?”
“Perhaps.” She smiled.
“Aha!” Rosalie cried and sitting back from her masterpiece, tugged on Darcy’s shirt. He sighed to see the finger marks of charcoal and oil from her crayon.
“Your coat will cover that.” Elizabeth offered sympathetically, “Only we will know that you are not impeccably dressed.”
“Papa!”
The parents exchanged glances. “Let me see, little love.” He bent down and admired her creation. “It is beautiful, dear! What is it?”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “I would say a flower garden.”
“A storm at sea.” Darcy suggested and smiled at her laugh, then kissed Rosalie. “Quite diverse, Rosa. Will you draw me another picture, sweetheart?” He turned the paper over and tapped it. “Show me.”
“Me!” She squealed and made a great show of picking her crayon then set back to work, talking to herself as she scribbled. Darcy reached out and stroked her hair, and was utterly ignored.
“So, Bingley, I will gladly engage him in conversation, but truly, his heart is so obviously set, I do not think there is anything to worry over.” Hearing his friend’s voice from the dining room, he laughed. “And I do not think he would really care to listen today, his focus is elsewhere.” Reading the rest of the letter he looked back to her. “Your aunt supports our decision.”
“It is a good thing, considering last night. I wonder what they will say with today’s letter.” She touched the envelope by her side and placed it with his pile.
“Well, did you tell them where to send their response?” He picked up his pen, smoothing the feather at the tip as he studied her. “We will leave for home Wednesday morning. I have written the letters for the inns, so our rooms and the horses for the changes will be ready.”
“Always prepared.” She said softly and noted that his brows had risen.
“You seem reluctant. What would hold us here? We are a distraction now, I think that will be abundantly clear when we arrive at the church.”
“I know.” She smiled and watched Rosalie work. “No, I am not reluctant to go home; it is just family matters that concern me. I guess that it is as Papa said, the last time that the Bennet family will be all together in one place, I think that he is correct in that. When Kitty or Lydia marry, I do not think that all of us will be present, that leaves funerals, and of course that would mean one of us was gone, permanently eliminating any possibility of a reunion. I guess that …” Tears pricked her eyes. “I am sorry; I promised no regrets only a few hours ago.” She started to sob. “I have been doing so well with the crying and here I am starting up again.” Rosalie stopped and stared at her worriedly.
Darcy reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Dearest, you know that I will make sure that we will have many reunions with your sisters, we will make sure that Jane and Lucas can travel to Pemberley, and wherever Catherine and Lydia eventually live, whoever they marry, I promise we will help them to come to our homes, and if we are invited to theirs, of course we will go. Mary and de Bourgh certainly have the means to travel. It is not so bleak, love. I will not let you be separated from your family. This has been a very emotional time. That is why I wished to be alone with you this morning. I know that you need to cry.”
“You have been waiting for this?” She looked up to see the warmth in his expression and then wiped her eyes. “You know me too well.”
“Mama?” Rosalie whispered, and unnoticed slid down from her chair.
“Go on love, tell me. You will not recover until you voice your thoughts. It was not in your journal this morning. What is it?”
“I thought that you would be unhappy reading it.” Darcy sighed and looked at her pointedly. “All right, I should know better, but after everything that has happened, I was not sure if you would understand how I could still … Well, fine, here is what is on my mind. I always hoped that we could be close and happy, the Bennet family, so
mehow some miracle would happen and we would all love each other, and want to be together. I know, I sound foolish, looking for the idealized family.”
“Like ours?” He suggested.
“Are we ideal? People look askance at our displays of affection. We do not play the games that our society dictates. And beyond that, how much turmoil have we suffered?” She dabbed at her eyes when he handed her his handkerchief.
“But that is why we are so strong.” He squeezed her hand harder. “And as horribly painful as it is for me to say this, I cannot help but think that we will experience turmoil again and again as the years pass. Hopefully not quite as dramatically as some we have suffered, but it will come. That is why we need to go home.” She nodded and stared at their hands. “It is difficult to let dreams die.”
“I guess that it is.” Elizabeth studied him. “You never had a chance to dream that did you?”
“Oh, I did.” He smiled and kissed her hand. “I would lie in the glade and pretend that Mother was alive and we were a happy family of four. Sometimes I dreamed of Father finding a wonderful woman to marry and make us whole again.” He shrugged. “I guess the difference is that I knew my dreams could never come true and you, with your family around you still, always hoped that they would somehow become different people.”
“And they have. That is why it is so hard to let it go.”
“Your family was destined to separate eventually, that is what marriage does for women; they leave home and begin something new. It is just that your separation from your mother is final as opposed to your sisters, where we will part with a wave from a carriage window until the next time we meet, and I promise you, we will meet.”
“I wonder if I am the only sister who feels so emotional about the family.”
“I wonder that as well, I think that the others will be upset but more practical. Since you were the most hurt, you would have the greater dreams. I think, love, this is why we both embrace our marriage so fervently, and why we …well, why we often leave our friends and family shaking their heads.”
“We do.” Elizabeth wiped her eyes. “Thank you.” She looked to the chair. “Where is Rosa?”
Darcy’s head swivelled and he was about to jump to his feet when he saw the top of her head moving behind the desk. “Look.”
Elizabeth looked down to see Rosalie standing beside her with an armful of gifts. “Mama?”
“Oh sweetheart.” She reached down and lifted her to her lap. “Thank you dear.” Sniffing, she kissed Rosalie’s head. “What did you bring me?” Sorting through everything, she found a doll, a book, and laughing softly she showed Darcy the fistful of dried flowers purloined out of an arrangement from across the room. “Are you trying to make me feel better?” Rosalie kissed her cheek, and rested her head on her chest. Elizabeth hugged her. “I love you so much, Rosa. I will never hurt you.” They sat hugging together and rocking, then Rosalie, seeing that her work was done, squirmed and slid back to the floor. Her teary parents watched the curly hair move around the edge of the desk and listened to her struggle back up onto her chair. Looking from one to the other she picked up her crayon and returned to work. Darcy and Elizabeth attempted to regain their composure.
“Oh my.” Elizabeth wiped the tears streaming down her face.
Darcy took the cloth from her and quickly touching his eyes, reclaimed her hand, and sat watching Rosalie draw, oblivious to their observation. “I do not know about you, but our little girl has made me feel better. Are you well, now?” Are you willing to leave here for home in a few days?”
“Yes, of course, we need to leave; we need to care for our babies.” Letting go of him, she selected a piece of stationary and took his pen from his hand. He coughed and was met by her innocent expression. “Well that other one needs to be mended and you know that I am no good at that.”
Darcy chuckled and took out his pen knife. “You are quite talented at mending my pen, love.” Smiling into her widened eyes, he touched the page before her. “Who are you writing to?”
“Mrs. Reynolds. If we are going home then I need her to prepare the house, and there are so many new things that Rosa can do, we have to protect her, and then if your family is coming …”
Darcy sat back and listened as she went on with her planning, talking it out as she wrote and he whittled, then finishing, he replaced his knife and just watched as she worked, admiring how she was transforming before his eyes into the mistress of Pemberley. He had seen it countless times and it never lost its fascination.
“Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth tapped him with the feather. “You are staring, what draws your attention?”
He smiled and picking up his pen, dipped it into the inkpot. “The ideal Mrs. Darcy.” He looked down at his page when she groaned and started to write, and within moments a little wad of paper bounced off of his nose. “Your aim is improving.” He said without looking up.
“Or your nose is growing.” She laughed and he shook his head and sighed. “Husband.” Elizabeth whispered and smiled when his eyes instantly met hers.
“Yes?”
“Nothing, I just love to call you that.”
Smiling, he dropped his eyes and slipping off his shoe, rubbed her leg under the desk, and returned to his work. “I love it, too.”
Bingley’s head popped up from staring at his plate. “I know that laugh. They are about here somewhere.”
“Charles, calm down!” Louisa sighed. “There is plenty of time!”
“We will have to tell Miss Martin how silly you are.” Mary smiled. “I know that it will please Lizzy to do so.”
“Please Elizabeth?” De Bourgh grinned. “It will please me! You are hopeless!”
“I seem to recall you making a fool over yourself farewelling your future wife on her way to Pemberley!” Bingley glared. “Oh, and yes, I remember how you deflected my questions about an attachment. Very clever!”
“I thought so.” He smiled smugly.
“What did you say?” Mary demanded and was greeted with the same smile. “Peter!”
“I was pining for you, my dear.”
“How very sweet.” Louisa laughed when Mary looked at him suspiciously. “Do you ever pine for me, Gerald?”
He spoke from behind his paper. “Every moment that we are parted.”
De Bourgh chuckled and toasted Hurst with his coffee cup. “Born romantic, you are.”
“I have my moments.” He dropped the paper and smiled at his wife. Louisa blushed. “How is our offspring today?”
“I would say he is doing somersaults.” She sighed. “It does not make for a comfortable breakfast.”
“It will not be long.” Hurst’s eyes were soft and he quickly hid back behind his paper.
“Well the Darcys are having a grand time.” Robinson announced as he walked into the room. “Breakfasting on their own.”
“Where?” Bingley demanded and stared into the hallway.
Pouring some coffee, he settled into a chair and dished out some eggs. “In the library.”
“The library.” Bingley smacked his head. “Of course.”
“They were preparing their travel plans, letters for the inns …” Chuckling, he started eating. “Miss Darcy was reading a book; well perhaps eating a book is the better word. One of her own, I will point out. Were you worried they had abandoned you? Darcy said something of you apparently suffering a case of nerves.” The others laughed.
“I take offence at that!”
“Then stop acting like a nervous suitor!” De Bourgh prodded him. “Miss Martin is nervous enough without you being that way, too.”
“She is nervous? Of me?”
“You are rather intimidating.” Hurst murmured.
“Me?”
“The way you tower above and frown at her …”
“What?” He stared. “I … I am …no!”
“Poor girl shivers with …”
“Anticipation?” De Bourgh suggested.
“Peter!”
�
��Forgive me, my dear.” He shrugged. “I forgot my company.”
“Never do that, the ladies will always remind you of your mistake.” Darcy said from the doorway. “Well, Elizabeth has taken Rosalie upstairs. We are ready to go. Bingley, I thought that you wanted to get to church early?” He made a show of looking at his watch. “What is the problem?”
“Problem?” He stood and threw down his napkin. “YOU are the problem! Disappearing, not telling anyone where you are …” Darcy stood back and let his friend pass, his lips twitching. The others laughed and filed out of the room, and joining Elizabeth, boarded the carriages. It was only a short trip into Meryton and soon they were outside of the church. Darcy handed down Elizabeth and looked up at the threatening sky. “The weather is in our favour, I think.”
“No milling crowd.” She agreed, and laughed to see Bingley leap down and set off into the building. “Come on.”
Inside were the groups of gossips, and unsurprisingly the hum of conversation lowered considerably when the Netherfield party arrived. Elizabeth held Darcy’s arm, and they both wore identical expressions, unfazed. They nodded to whoever greeted them, but did not stop to talk. Bingley searched and found the pew belonging to the Longs, and wasted no time sliding in beside Abbey.
“Good morning!” He beamed.
“Good morning.” She looked at him and started to giggle, putting her hand to her mouth. “Oh my.”
“What is it?” Looking over his appearance, he studied her eagerly. “Is something wrong?”
“You resemble a terrier ready to play!”
“Better than a terrier ready to catch rats.” He laughed and her eyes widened. “Ignore me, no, strike that, never ignore me, just bear with me. I have been anticipating church today with a fervency I honestly have rarely felt before.”
“Why?” She tilted her head and smiled.
“Need you ask?”
“I think so.”
“You do not feel the same … whatever this is?”
She put her head down to laugh again. “Mr. Bingley, your conversation is … are you always so …”