Now, it was she who kissed his cheek. “Thank you, William. I love you too.”
“Therefore, we need to save our son from wasting his time, possibly damaging his heart, and certainly residing in the depths of confusion by a cautious selection of families to attend.”
“A small ball, then?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
“A very small ball?” Elizabeth teased.
“I suppose so.” He immediately saw the wisdom of her suggestion. Keeping the number of invited guests to a minimum would keep their son’s heart from straying where it ought not. “Perhaps a dinner party of intimate friends would be more appropriate now that I consider how distracting a larger group, musicians and the like, would be.” He scratched his chin.
“A much better idea and something our son would find more enjoyable after his comments about balls in his letter, do you not think?” His wife patted his hand. “I shall speak with the housekeeper and Cook to see what we have available in the larder and plan the evening for two weeks hence?”
He nodded.
His eyes followed her departure from the room. She was still a handsome woman in her mid-forties. He…slapped his forehead. His wife, his sweet innocent wife, had worked him; had led him to her desire like a bull being pulled by his nose ring.
Darcy huffed. Then, he smiled. Like his son, he abhorred balls where men attempted to curry his favor to make offensive demands of his time or his assets while their ladies schemed and tittered away the evening as they praised their own children while crushing the opinions of others as to the value of their own offspring. He hated balls.
He loved his wife for slyly guiding him to the right pathway. He wanted his son to be as contented as his parents.
Elizabeth peeked her head back through the doorway and asked, “Have you decided whom you would like to attend?”
“I have decided whom I would not like to invite, Elizabeth,” was his quick reply, speaking more bluntly than he ought.
“Who might that be?” Curiosity lit her eyes.
“The Greenwoods, dear. While Miss Greenwood appears to be all that is lovely, their next daughter, Penelope, unnerves me. There is something about her I find…I cannot put it into words, but she gives the impression she knows something I should, and her eyes are…inquisitive.” He shook his head in confusion. “She unsettles me.”
“Then I shall seat her next to our son so she will not bother you.” His wife chuckled as she, again, left the room.
What? Did she not hear him or comprehend his words? He pondered her response. In the years they had been together, many times Elizabeth had noted a quality in a woman he had missed. Where he had assumed a lady was too forward or brash, his wife understood the fears that lay beneath, causing the woman to act in an odd manner from her normal character. Her insight had been invaluable. This time? Shrugging his shoulders, he meditated on what Elizabeth saw in Miss Greenwood that he had missed.
A quiet rumble started in his belly and rose to his chest. He laughed into the empty room. His wife…his dear, sweet bride, had known what he had not been able to figure out. Miss Penelope Greenwood reminded him of Elizabeth’s character when they had first met in the year eleven. She would be perfect for their son.
He would have Elizabeth invite the other ladies he had considered as well. In this way, Miss Greenwood would stand out like a jewel amidst thorns… or was that a rose amidst thorns? Brushing the thought away, he left to search for his wife. They had a party to plan.
FOUR
Alex was the same height as Darcy, or maybe a little taller. His eyes held the same weary look Darcy had stared upon each time he looked in the mirror prior to wedding Elizabeth. His wife had been correct—their son needed a helpmeet, a woman to soothe his brow and bring joy to his soul. In his heart, Darcy knew their decision to take matters into their own hands had been a good decision.
“Your mother and I are pleased to have you back at Pemberley and overjoyed to find you in good health. We were not expecting Harrison to be traveling with you, but are happy to host him for as long as he would like to stay.” Darcy’s gaze examined every inch of his eldest. He was a handsome man the father had to admit, despite their appearances being similar. From the time Alex was little, Elizabeth had said that all you had to do was to add water and sunshine to the son and he would grow to be an exact copy of the father. Again, Elizabeth had been correct.
“Thank you, Father.” Alex sipped the brandy his father had poured. His gaze surveyed the study, and Darcy wondered at his thoughts. They were both quiet men. Alex would speak when he was inclined. “My carriage was loaded, and I was ready to climb in when Harry yelled from down the street. Before I knew his intent, his driver pulled alongside, his trunks were transferred, and I have had a companion for the last three days.”
“He is as impulsive as Charles, then.” Darcy rubbed his chin. “Well, your mother will be pleased to have another mouth to feed. From the smells coming from the kitchen, Cook has decided you both need fattening. Pemberley may need to hire additional seamstresses to let out your seams after a week or two.”
Alex smirked. So did Darcy.
“Father, we spent some time with Rebekah this morning. She is…round.” The smirk grew. “As I mentioned in my letter to you, I had found it challenging to think of her coming motherhood. Now, however, after seeing her beaming with anticipation and joy, I find I envy her very much. She has a lovely home, and her husband was most attentive to her.”
“Which is as it should be.”
“Yes, Father, this is so.” He took another sip and then held the glass up and turned it to catch the sun’s rays from the large window behind Darcy’s desk. Then he sat erect in his chair and set the brandy on the table. Clearing his throat, he continued. “I have met someone.”
Darcy’s heart dislodged and fell somewhere in the area of his biggest toe. “You met someone?” This was entirely unexpected. What in the world would they do with Miss Penelope Greenwood? He needed Elizabeth!
“Yes.” His son wiped his palms on the fabric of his trousers. “Her name is Miss Millicent Percival. She is the third daughter of Sir Marcus Percival from Smith Hill in Essex. Miss Percival’s father has interests in shipping and her portion is thirty-thousand.”
“I see.” He did not. “Pray, tell me the sort of woman she is. Does she get along well with her mother? What are her accomplishments?” Darcy wanted to slap himself. Get along with her mother? Heaven forbid! Had he based his attraction on Elizabeth’s relationship with Mrs. Bennet, they never would have married. Why in the world had that come out of his mouth?
“Miss Percival puts me in mind of Aunt Jane. She is fair-haired with lovely blue eyes. Her figure is light and pleasing, and her manners would be accepted in any company.”
Darcy worried at the look in his son’s eyes. They were…they were…dreamy. Oh, no!
“She is skilled on the pianoforte and keeps a journal where the pages are lined with exquisite artwork.”
He was stunned. “You have read her private journal? She has showed this to you?” What sort of young woman was she to boldly display her innermost thoughts? This did not sound good.
“Not at all, Father. We were attending a picnic at the Fitzwilliams when she started tracing the vines and flowers surrounding the doors of their gazebo. There were no words written upon the page when she asked me to help her determine whether she had the color of the blooms to the exact shade.”
“Ah, I see. She was flagrantly displaying her talents, then?” Darcy’s fingers pinched his chin.
“No!” Alex slumped back in his chair and picked up his glass. “You appear determined not to like her before you have met. This is most unlike you, Father.”
Darcy cleared his throat and looked beyond his son to the portrait of his wife hanging on the back wall. She would know what to say; how to clearly explain to him that they had already found the perfect wife and mother to the next heir of Pemberley.
“You are not entir
ely wrong, Son, and I am ashamed I have allowed myself to be swayed by not believing any young woman could measure up to the value of my child.” Darcy chuckled to himself as he decided to place his plans on the shelf out of fairness to the young lady. He caught his son’s eye. “Whomever you choose as your bride, I ask only that you remember you both will not always stay young and vibrant. You might not always have favorable circumstances. And, Alex, your wife may change in nature when children come. Other family members, outside your union, may pressure you to bend when you know you should stand firm; or to be stalwart when the time is ripe to show mercy.”
“Then, how do I know for certain she is the woman for me? You see, this is my greatest worry.” Alex, again, set his drink aside. Folding his fingers together, he dropped his hands between his knees. “The things I have seen while in town…” He shuddered. “Men who flagrantly take mistresses and flaunt them in front of their wives. Women who slander their mate, making him look small in the eyes of her friends while they select lovers from the abundance of willing young men who long for companionship.”
“You?” Darcy stood and leaned over his desk towards the young man. Even he could hear the harshness of his voice.
“No, Father. I have not followed the path into vice like so many of my acquaintances,” Alex quickly reassured him. “Sifting through these reprobates is easy. The difficulty comes when trying to determine if the face I am being shown is the real one—is genuine. I watch carefully when I attend society’s events, and I see men pretending to be wealthier than they are, men who have a mountain of debt who are seeking a rich, innocent young lady as their wife. I see those same young ladies with a pretense of grace and honor who turn on their peers and skewer them with a glance should they poach upon a gentleman they believe to be theirs. It is a shoddy business, this trying to find a wife.”
“Hmmm.” Darcy nodded. In his youth, it had been little different.
“Father, I have been told the story of how you chose Mama to be your wife and mistress of our homes many times since my childhood. Whether it was you telling me or it was Mother, I cherished the tale because I had daily proof of the love you each hold for the other.” While he paused to capture his thoughts, Darcy nodded. His son spoke the truth.
Eventually, Alex continued, “When Mama speaks of the period from your first meeting until your second proposal, she teases how offensive you were with your haughty pride and arrogance. She also admits to her own prejudices during that time.”
“Yes, this is true,” Darcy admitted, relieved they had long moved past that horrid time of turmoil. “We, neither of us, performed well.”
“Pray, do not take offense when I suggest this gives me hope.” A slight grin lifted the corner of Alex’s mouth. “I think you are aware that the two of us have often been compared as equals in how we move through society. That you found a wonderful woman despite your discomfort fills me with courage in seeking someone of my own.”
Darcy nodded. “Alex, I recall that it was Theocritus who spoke of a chip of stone being similar in character to the block it was taken from. Although it has been over one-thousand years since he wrote those words, they are as true today as they were then. That we have the same difficulties, then, is not surprising. With that said, what you are wanting to know—and pray correct me if I am wrong—is how your mother was able to see beyond my stony countenance and blunt words to the man I was within, is this so?”
“Yes, Papa.”
Darcy’s heart melted a little at the affectionate term of endearment. It had been many years since his son had called him Papa.
Clearing his throat to dislodge the bulging lump of emotion, Darcy helped his son along. “Alex, I am hesitant to share the answer as it does not reflect well on myself.” At his son’s raised brow, he continued, “You see, the simple fact is that your mother is, and always has been, an exceptional woman. Once I concluded how offensive my conduct had been to her, I swallowed my pride and did all within my power to become worthy of her attention and affection. To this day, I am grateful she chose me to love.” Darcy ran his hand through his hair. “She did not have to, Son. There were better men who never would have hurt her as I did.” Beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip and his hands quivered at the thought of losing his Elizabeth to someone else. “A day has not gone by that I have not stopped to consider the good fortune I have had because of your mother. I hope her face is the last I see when I no longer walk this earth for I cannot imagine a life without her. She is as essential to me as my next breath.”
He heard a sniffle and looked to his son. Not him. He caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. She was standing at the door, her hand cupped over her mouth—tears streaming down her cheeks.
She said nothing as she walked closer. She did not acknowledge their child, nor did she look anywhere other than directly at him. He stood when she reached his desk, pulling her into his embrace where Elizabeth tucked her head under his chin. He kissed her soft curls and swayed with her, back and forth, until she quieted. It was these moments, these precious seconds when he felt stronger than Atlas and more needed than the sun on the earth. He loved her—and she loved him in return.
FIVE
They had no clue when Alex left the room. Elizabeth moved her head and peered up at him. “I love you, Will.” Their kiss was both tender and passionate. It had always been this way with them.
He had waited until she accepted his second proposal before cupping her face with his large hands. He recalled thinking how petite her form was compared to his. When she tilted her head towards his, her eyes dancing with joy, and her mouth…Lord! He still remembered every breath with clarity. “I love you,” he had whispered just before touching his lips to hers.
It had been her first kiss. And his. His inborn concern for raising expectations had kept him from the temptation of ladies who freely offered themselves for sport. He was grateful he had waited, uncaring at his friends and male relatives who had tormented him for being moral. It was a lesson he had hoped he had instilled in all his children. To share something with the woman you love that has not been given away to others adds value to the token.
She tasted sweeter than honey in the comb and smelled better than his mother’s roses. He had long suspected he would be similarly addicted to her, if he ever was allowed that close, as the men who constantly sought their pleasure in the opium dens on London’s waterfront. He had been right to think so.
“My love, how much of our conversation did you hear?” he whispered as she, again, rested her head on his chest.
“Enough to know our son is concerned with finding someone who will make him happy and to comprehend his father has already done thus.” She giggled. “Apparently, we have run our beloved child off in our amorous pursuits. Should we be embarrassed?”
His laughter bellowed from within. “Not at all, my dearest. He needs to know the reward of choosing wisely.”
“A reward? I am a reward? Why, Fitzwilliam, you are becoming quite glib with your tongue.” She patted his chest as she stepped back, a smile on her lovely face.
“Never glib with you, Elizabeth, for I speak only as I see matters to be true. You are and will forever be my reward.”
Taking the seat Alex had vacated, she asked, “He has found a woman of interest, then?”
Darcy nodded as he resumed his seat behind the desk. After explaining that portion of the conversation, and that portion only, he was not surprised when she suggested they invite the young lady and her family to Pemberley for the dinner party.
“We shall see how Miss Penelope Greenwood measures up to Miss Millicent Percival as I suggest we invite all of the families for a house party,” Elizabeth suggested.
He wanted to moan—and groan and tell her it would be impossible to have so many staying in their home. The noise. The interruptions. The breach of their privacy. All of these were intolerable.
She raised the peak of her left brow, and he inherently knew she had read his mind. D
arcy huffed. Then, he capitulated.
“Whatever you think to be best will be acceptable to me, Elizabeth.” He wanted to kick himself for giving in so easily. However, when she smiled, he wondered at his hesitation. He was a fool!
***
The two weeks until the house party passed quickly. Their son rode to his sister’s estate almost daily while the twins attempted to follow and emulate Alex.
Sir Marcus Percival and his family were the first arrivals. Despite having several younger children, who had been invited, they brought only their unmarried daughter, Millicent. She was all Alex had said, lovely in appearance and demure of character.
Darcy watched his son like a hawk to see how much of his heart was already engaged to the young lady. At the end of the first hour spent in company, he could not tell if Alex was in love or whether or not he was merely being polite. Fitzwilliam Darcy wanted to curse his son’s remarkable reflection of his own father. Why could he not be more demonstrative like his mother?
The light rain that had misted the area since the morning had turned into a downpour, rivulets streaming down the window glass. When the Greenwood family was announced, it was quickly discovered that Miss Penelope had had an unfortunate mishap in one of the puddles in the approach to the house.
“Six inches deep in mud,” Alex muttered a bit louder than intended as he glanced down at her spattered hem.
Although it was exactly as Darcy had observed, it had been rude of his son to mention it. However, rather than take offense, Miss Penelope’s delightful laughter filled the drawing room.
“I do believe, sir, that you have slightly understated the extent of the damage by several inches.” The young lady held her skirts off the floor out of consideration to the staff who would have had to trail behind her to clean up the mess. “If I might be shown to a room to refresh myself, I do promise to appear to a slightly better advantage with the mud removed.”
Something: Old, New, Later, True: A Pride & Prejudice Collection Page 15