by Leenie Brown
Lucy rested a gloved finger on her lips. She had chosen him for his admirable character, but since that kiss two days ago… She swallowed and rose from her seat. This was not the place to be contemplating fine figures or kisses. However, she could not resist taking one more look at Philip before she ducked out the side door. She pulled her wrap about her and dashed to stand under a well-leaved tree. She leaned against the tree and closed her eyes, filling her lungs with air that was washed clean by the falling rain. Expelling it, she opened her eyes and searched for things to occupy her thoughts other than Philip and that kiss. She was certain it was quite improper for her to have enjoyed it so. Indeed, in the moments when she was not applying herself to one task or another, it often crept into her mind. She gave herself a little shake and began watching the horses and carriages travelling along the road and the people who hurried along on foot. Despite the inclement weather, the church had been full. Even Philip’s patron had been in attendance today, but knowing what day it was, she had expected him to be there. He never missed his mother’s birthday. He had returned from town just yesterday, she had heard a couple of ladies behind her say.
Her eyes wandered across the churchyard. Ah, there he was, kneeling on the damp ground, brushing away whatever traces of dirt might have accumulated on his mother’s name. She understood his need to be there. Once a year, she, too, would visit her mother’s grave, flowers in hand, words of love and thankfulness on her lips. She sighed. She would be making that journey twice a year now.
“Lucy,” said Philip as he approached, “why are you standing out here in the rain? You will catch a chill.”
Lucy glanced at Philip and gave him a small smile. “I felt a need for some air, and I knew you would not be long. Is Mr. Harker ready?”
Philip smiled and shook his head. “But he will be soon. He only had two more people with whom he wished to speak.”
“So, a quarter hour?” Lucy asked with a laugh. Mr. Harker was not known for the brevity of his conversations.
“If we are so fortunate,” said Philip. He offered her his arm and nodded toward the churchyard. “Do you wish to visit your father?”
She smiled up at him and nodded as she wound her arm through his, stepping in close so that the umbrella might shield them both from the majority of the rain that was now steadily falling.
A picture of strolling just like this after every service formed unbidden in his mind and a sense of peace and comfort washed over him. He shook his head. His reaction to her continued to amaze him. He had definitely felt a certain amount of friendship with her for many years. Her loyalty, as well as her honesty, had always impressed him. It was something he had treasured about his friendship with her. In fact, he had treasured it so much that she, though she did not know it, had been one of the few people he had ever asked for advice. Then, when she had proposed the idea of marriage, he had felt a certain amount of duty to her ─ a responsibility to see her safe and well-cared-for ─ much as he had when they were young and his mother had assigned him to look out for Mary Ellen and Lucy. But then, he had kissed her, and that had set off a full range of new and wholly unexpected emotions. And now, with her here walking next to him…
“Is something troubling you?” They stood before her father’s grave, but instead of leaving his arm and attending to whatever bit of information she wished to speak to her father, she stood, holding his arm firmly and looking up at him in concern. “You look rather pensive and perhaps a bit puzzled.”
“I was just thinking about our future,” he said looking down at her.
“And it makes you draw your brows together and frown?”
He laughed lightly. “I do that when I am thinking especially hard. It does not mean the topic of consideration is unpleasant.” He was relieved to see her expression soften.
“And how do you see the future, Mr. Dob ─ Philip?” she corrected as he raised a brow at her.
He patted her arm and a joyous smile lit his face. “Happy, Lucy. Very, very happy.”
Lucy gave Philip’s arm a squeeze before releasing it. “I believe you are right. We will be happy,” she said before turning to her father’s grave.
“Mr. Dobney,” Lucy heard a gentleman calling to Philip as she spoke softly to her father telling him that the first of the banns had been read that morning and assuring him that her future would be secure and happy.
“Mr. Darcy,” Philip greeted the gentleman who had called to him. “It was a pleasure to have you amongst the faces in church today. I trust you are well?”
“I am well.”
“And your sister? Does she still find school a challenge?” Philip remembered the shy young girl who had peeked out from behind curtains and doors when he had visited his friend at Pemberley.
Darcy sighed. “She does. My cousin and I are considering removing her from school.”
Philip cocked his head to the side and looked carefully at his friend, who had in the last three years since his father’s death grown so much more serious than he had even been as a child. The responsibility of an estate as grand as Pemberley and the guardianship of a younger sister must be an immense weight to carry. “It might be for the best,” he said. “Individual instruction can be most beneficial to some, and as long as you find her a proper companion, she may do very well. One can never be certain, of course.”
Darcy nodded a greeting to Lucy as she came to stand at Philip’s side. “No, my friend, nothing is ever certain.”
“Uncertainty does not have to be something to dread,” said Lucy, “though it does make one feel ill at ease. I find a plan the best remedy for the feeling.”
Darcy could not help but smile at her comments. She had always been the most positive of his acquaintances. “And,” he cocked a brow, “Philip here is part of your plan?”
Lucy laughed and wrapped her arm around Philip’s. “He is now.”
“Now?”
Lucy’s eyes flicked quickly to her father’s grave. “My plans to spend some time in finding a suitable match were altered, so the process had to be hastened.”
“I was sorry to hear of your father’s passing,” said Darcy.
“Thank you.” Lucy looked at Philip. “Would this conversation not be much better if we were out of the rain and perhaps had a cup of tea or a meal in front of us?”
Philip chuckled at her gentle way of making a suggestion. “I believe you are correct. Mr. Darcy, would you care to join us for our repast? I believe Mr. Harker will be ready to leave soon.”
She waited long enough to get Darcy’s acceptance before telling Philip she would inform Mr. Harker.
“A marriage of convenience?” asked Darcy as he watched Lucy walking toward the church.
Philip nodded. “Her uncle offered to take her if she was not married in two months, and you know what he is like. I would not wish to subject any young lady to his care.” He knew Darcy was familiar with Angus Tolson’s proclivities. “So, when she presented the idea of marriage, I could not refuse.”
Darcy studied the look on his friend’s face. “You do not seem displeased with the idea. In fact, I am not sure I have ever seen you look so at ease.”
Philip shrugged slightly. “I admit there is a certain amount of peace that has taken up residence in my heart knowing that one aspect of my future is secured.”
Darcy shook his head. “No, there must be more to it. I have seen many who have married for convenience, and it is rare to find one who looks as you do.”
“Perhaps it is because she has always been my friend,” he suggested. “I know her. Many who marry do not truly know each other ─ at least, not as I know her.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Darcy, though his tone spoke of his disbelief. However, their discussion of Lucy was soon to come to an end, for the very lady was assisting Mr. Harker toward where they stood and the carriage waited. “She will make a fine parson’s wife.”
“Yes, I know,” said Philip, a strange feeling of pride filled him. “She told me she wo
uld.” He reached into his pocket. “She had a list.” He handed the list to Darcy. “Make sure I get that back, and please, do not let her know I have given it to you. I am sure she would not mind your seeing it since we are all such good friends, but I would rather not find out I am wrong.”
Darcy chuckled and slipped the paper into his pocket as Philip left him to assist Mr. Harker and Lucy into the carriage.
Chapter 3
Darcy slipped the letter he had been given to read back to Philip as they entered the sitting room at the parsonage. “She was always the brightest among us,” he said softly. “You cannot fault her logic.”
Philip watched Lucy begin to pour the tea and smiled. “I believe, she will do quite nicely,” he agreed.
“Even better than that,” muttered Mr. Harker as he bumped his way past Philip. The gentleman’s eyesight might nearly be gone, but his hearing was still sharp. “It will be pleasant to have her come visit me once I am settled in my cottage.”
“You know you are welcome to stay with us,” said Philip.
“Oh, I know,” said Mr. Harker with a smile and a flick of his brow, “but you will be grateful for your privacy, I assure you.”
Darcy chuckled as his friend’s face grew red.
“And I,” continued Mr. Harker, “will be glad for the quiet. Shepherding a flock is a noisy business. I shall enjoy my ease.”
“You will wish for company soon enough,” said Darcy.
“Bah,” Mr. Harker took his seat. “They’ll not leave me alone. I shall have company aplenty.”
“More than you would wish for,” agreed Philip. “There are those in Kympton who will make it their duty to see you entertained and well-fed. Mrs. Walcroft was inquiring about you today.”
“Mrs. Walcroft, Mrs. Blakely, Mrs. Evans,” grumbled Mr. Harker as Lucy placed his tea on the table next to him before touching his hand and telling him where the cup was.
“It is reassuring to know you will not be lonely,” said Darcy with a chuckle.
Mr. Harker smiled and lifted his cup of tea. “Mrs. Evans does make a delicious mincemeat pie.”
“Like I said,” commented Philip as he brushed past Lucy and took a seat, “you will be well-fed.”
“Mr. Darcy.” Lucy handed him a cup of tea.
“Thank you, Miss Tolson.” He settled into a comfortable chair in the sitting room of the parsonage. He had spent many hours right here conversing with Mr. Harker. It was a friendship that had developed after his mother had died and had continued to grow over the years. His friendship with Mr. Harker had been invaluable when Darcy’s father had fallen ill and he had found himself facing the responsibilities of not only an estate but those of caring for his younger sister. Mr. Harker sat now where he had sat on each of those visits, in a chair tucked away in the corner just to his left. Darcy took a sip of his tea. “When will your uncle be coming?”
The cup Lucy held clattered just slightly. The thought of his return made her nerves jump and quiver. “He will be here in just over a month’s time. He wishes to have an accounting of all the items in the house before the new tenants take up residency.” She knew that many of the items would be packed up and taken back to town and sold to cover debts. She had already seen to the moving of the pieces left to her by her mother, so that they would not go missing.
“He will not be returning to stay?” Darcy was not at all surprised, nor was he disappointed by the information. He was rather pleased to own the truth.
“My uncle prefers town, and I prefer him to remain in town,” said Lucy, passing a cup to Philip before filling one for herself.
“As do many,” muttered Mr. Harker.
“Thankfully,” continued Lucy as she took a seat next to Mrs. Barnes, more commonly known as her Aunt Tess, “he will not arrive before Mr. Dobson and I have wed.”
Darcy cocked his head to one side. “You would expect him to cause trouble?”
Lucy sat her cup on the side table and folded her hands in her lap. She dared not hold a cup of hot tea while discussing her uncle, for she was sure she would slosh at least some if not all of it on her clothes. To say she was not fond of her uncle was an understatement. To say she feared him was much closer to the truth. “Only if he is in need of money, which he nearly always is.”
Darcy also put his cup aside. “I have met many like him.” He turned the handle of the cup away from himself and back again. There was no need for the motion other than to give his hand something to do and his eyes something on which to focus other than those looking at him now. There was a topic he knew he must broach and make both Mr. Harker and Mr. Dobney aware, but the subject was not one that was easily canvassed. “I was visited by such a one just yesterday.”
“Wickham?” asked Philip softly. In the whole of their acquaintance, there were few who caused Darcy to fidget so with uneasiness. George Wickham was very adept at making Darcy uneasy. He was known for his purposeful gibes at Darcy, as well as his playing at causing trouble for him. How Darcy had managed to tolerate the young fool for as long as he had ─ even if it was merely for the sake of his father ─ had always astounded Philip.
“He asked about the living?” There was no doubt in Philip’s mind as to what that meeting had been about. Philip knew the details of Darcy’s father’s will and the arrangement that had been made with Wickham when he had declined the living in favour of a monetary settlement, for Darcy had discussed them with Philip before allowing him to accept the living as his own. There was an understandable uneasiness even then in Darcy’s manners. They both knew that Wickham would one day challenge the arrangement and plead how the elder Mr. Darcy’s will had not been kept.
“He did, and I refused to hear of it, of course.” Darcy looked out the window. “He claims his circumstances are dire, and I have no doubt they are.”
“He is like my uncle,” said Lucy, rising to gather the cups. Her hands often felt the need to be busy when her mind was disquieted. “He will apply to you again and again. And then, when he is unsuccessful, he will look for another method of gaining what he wants.” Her voice grew more panicked with each successive word, and her hands trembled, causing the cups to clatter.
Phillip, who was near her, reached out, steadied them, and then took them from her. She was not one to be easily rattled. She had listed that trait as one of her qualifications for marrying him, and so her state of agitation spoke to him of some awful truth that lay hidden.
Aunt Tess, who had lived with and helped care for Lucy for years, stood and wrapped an arm around her niece’s shoulders. “He may be like your uncle, but he is not your uncle. We will be well. You shall marry Mr. Dobson, and we shall be well.” She guided Lucy back to the settee they had been sharing. Taking her seat, she took Lucy’s hand in both of hers. “It is time we spoke of it,” she said gently to Lucy, who swallowed and nodded her consent.
“As you know,” said Aunt Tess turning toward Philip and Darcy, “I came to live with Lucy and her parents six years ago. My husband had left me with the means to establish a place of my own should I wish it, but I preferred to be surrounded by those I love.” She patted Lucy’s hand affectionately. “The decision, I believe, was providential, for shortly after I arrived, Lucy’s mother was injured while riding.” She sighed slightly. “She never fully recovered. Her constitution was weakened. She tired easily and became readily susceptible to illness, taking to her bed regularly until finally she succumbed completely and was no more.”
Philip watched Lucy chew the corner of her lip and knew that she was battling the emotions that recounting such events must necessarily arouse.
“Shortly thereafter,” continued Aunt Tess, “my youngest brother appeared, insisting that he needed help. He had lost money, he said, in a speculation,” she raised an eyebrow indicating she did not believe the explanation, “He, of course, had debts that needed repayment. The money lost was money which Simon had previously given Angus to cover another pressing debt. Simon was rightfully furious and refused Angus
the money. No matter how Angus pleaded, Simon held firm. It was a trying few days. The sound of raised voices was common. We were all relieved when Angus finally packed his bags and mounted his horse.”
“But he had not truly left,” said Lucy with a quick glance at her aunt. “A week later, he crept into the house and found my aunt in her chamber. I was in her dressing room.”
Aunt Tess’s hand rested on Lucy’s knee, rubbing it just slightly. “Angus knew that I was not without means, but he also knew that I would not part with those means easily.”
Philip noted how tightly Lucy’s hands were clasped in her lap and how often she drew in a deep breath as if needing to fortify herself. Again, just as it had when she had spoken to him so fearfully in the churchyard, his chest constricted and his heart longed so intensely to see her protected that it hurt.
“I tried to stay quietly hidden in the dressing room,” Lucy’s voice was apologetic, “but I bumped a brush, and when it clattered to the floor, he found me.”
Aunt Tess’s arm wrapped around Lucy’s shoulders once again. “Lucy had to wear long sleeves for a month to hide the marks his hands made when he grabbed her.” She smiled sadly at her niece. “But that was not the worst of it.”
Lucy shook her head, wishing for the story to stop, and her aunt, seeing her distress ,said no more. The room fell silent for a moment until Lucy, gathering her courage, continued the tale. “He said the man to whom he owed the debt would gladly accept a young and eager bride in place of the money.” She closed her eyes and shook her head again; perhaps she did not have the courage to tell it all. “He then enumerated what exactly he expected the man would appreciate about my person.” Even now, she could feel his hands touching her as he spoke of it. She could smell the stench of alcohol as he spoke near her ear, and her stomach twisted and turned with revulsion just as it had then.
“I could not allow that, of course,” said Aunt Tess, drawing Lucy as close as possible, “so I gave him what he wanted.”