Something: Old, New, Later, True: A Pride & Prejudice Collection

by Christie Capps

  As Darcy spied the blush rising from his son’s neck, he recalled Elizabeth, many months prior to her having knowledge of his interest, arriving at Bingley’s old estate to care for her beloved Jane with her skirts in a similar condition. Fortunately, it had not been Darcy who had condemned Elizabeth’s hem. Rather, her nemesis, Caroline Bingley, had spitefully attempted to draw his attention from their visitor’s fine eyes.

  He wanted to chuckle and slap his hand on his son’s shoulder, for he himself had poorly presented himself to Elizabeth by making an insulting comment about her appearance when they first met, that she was only tolerable, and not handsome enough to tempt him. Oh, but his wife tempted him daily!

  Miss Millicent Percival had snickered at Miss Penelope’s plight. That the only thing to ruffle her feathers and discompose her had been a disaster against another showed a flaw of character he found unattractive. Since it was such a Caroline Bingley thing to do, Darcy’s mind became set against her as the future bride of his son. She would not become Mrs. Alexander Darcy if he held any influence at all.

  Upon Miss Penelope’s return, she greeted her hosts with a smile. To Alex, she merely acknowledged him with a slight tilt to her head and a raised brow. Darcy wanted to laugh aloud as he glanced at his wife to see her in the exact same pose.

  Miss Penelope gracefully accepted the introductions to their other guests, politely moving through the room until she settled next to her eldest sister, Miss Constance Greenwood. They were a study in opposites, much like Jane and Elizabeth Bennet had been. One was fair while the other was not. One was quiet and demure, while the other was…Darcy could think of no other term other than “alive” to describe her.

  Alex turned his back on the sisters, moving to stand next to the fireplace mantel. His eyes softened as he gazed upon the quiet, fair-haired shrew and sharpened each time merriment bubbled from the dark-haired beauty.

  “Say, Darcy,” Sir Marcus loudly addressed him from across the room. “What think you about the leadership of the nation? With Sir Robert Peel on the way out as Prime Minister, will the Whigs or the Opposition take charge? I do not doubt you have an opinion, sir?”

  Before he responded, Darcy noted the differing reactions of the ladies. Miss Percival lifted her chin and turned to gaze behind her to distance herself from the conversation. Miss Greenwood’s expression was bland, as if she was not listening. Miss Penelope’s eyes danced. Darcy suspected she had an opinion she ached to express.

  Before replying, Darcy looked to his son. Yes, he had an opinion as well.

  Strategic planning was the task of every estate master. Darcy decided to put some of this wisdom into action, as there were few means more effective to determine the set of a person’s mind than to allow them to publicly express their own opinion.

  “Miss Penelope, by chance to you have an answer for Sir Marcus?” He thought to help things along. Elizabeth moved alongside him. When she put her hand around his elbow without looking at him, she sharply pinched the tender skin inside the fold of his arm.

  “Thank you for asking, Mr. Darcy.” Miss Penelope stood and moved to the opposite side of the mantel from Alex. She kept her eyes on the positioning of her steps until she was settled. Then, she directed her vision directly at him. “I have read in the papers that the incumbent, Lord Melbourne, is to take office soon. Whatever changes will take place in government with a new Prime Minister will be to the pleasure of some and the disapproval of others.” The corner of her mouth lifted slightly and Darcy wondered if it would reveal itself as a smirk. It stopped just short of doing so.

  This young woman intrigued him.

  Sir Marcus snorted. “What do women know of government?” He glared at the younger Miss Greenwood. “I say, Darcy, I would not have thought you to be one of those men who allowed your ladies to think higher of themselves than they should. Why, the great minds of our Parliament stopped that Mary Smith almost three years ago from trying to get the vote. An intelligent man would keep his women in their place.”

  “And, what would you say my place is, Sir Marcus?” Elizabeth answered before Darcy could reply, her grip tightening painfully on his arm. “Or, if it would be a simpler task, you might desire to speak of your own dear wife instead?”

  He heard her venom and was surprised when the other man failed to take note of the trap his wife had laid in front of him. Darcy glanced around the room. The other ladies, with the exception of Miss Penelope and her sister, had their heads bowed, a sure sign they were uncomfortable with the conversation. When Constance Greenwood delicately put her fingers to her mouth to stifle a yawn, rolling her eyes—an action indicating her boredom with the subject, Darcy disregarded her as the future mistress of his home.

  His son? He was looking directly at his mother with pride. Oh, yes. Alex had been reared to know the value of a good woman, having had the finest example in his own home.

  Darcy deliberately cleared his throat to return the attention to himself. “Due to the volatility of the subject, and the discomfort it is bringing to some in attendance, let us speak of this at another time.”

  Into the sudden quiet, Pemberley’s butler announced the arrival of guests. Darcy and Elizabeth introduced the Teagardens and the Thorntons after warmly welcoming them to Pemberley. There were now five unattached young women for his son to observe. Miss Mildred Teagarden had walked into the drawing room with a scowl on her face. Miss Abigail Thornton, on the other hand, hid behind her mother. Within minutes, it was a challenge to remember she was present.

  The stage was set; the players were in place.

  SIX

  For the rest of the evening, Darcy watched Alex. Often, he felt like he was looking into a mirrored history of his own countenance before Elizabeth became known to him. Darcy smiled to himself. The day they wed had become a pivotal date in his history. He had a life before Elizabeth which he now discerned was bleak and lonely. The life after Elizabeth had been filled with joy and promises. He would not trade those years for the world.

  His son was respectful to the mothers but gave minimal attention to the daughters—except for Miss Percival. Darcy wanted to scratch his head. How could he separate…he laughed at himself. Why was he worried about something he had no control over when he had the best tactical strategist on the globe in his own household? Elizabeth would know what to do.

  Dinner that evening had been…enlightening. Elizabeth had seated Miss Percival to Alex’s right and Miss Penelope directly across the table from him. Next to Miss Penelope was Sir Marcus. Darcy struggled to overhear the conversation.

  “You are interested in politics, aye?” Sir Marcus spoke with food in his mouth. Darcy checked to see if Miss Penelope crinkled her nose at his rudeness. A quick inhale was the only evidence of her disappointment with her dining companion.

  “Why would I not be?” the young lady replied with equanimity. It was obvious the man was attempting to remind her of what he conceived was her proper place in polite society. “A female is affected by the decisions of Parliament the same as a man, sir. To me, a government is much like the family arrangement. When the man of the house is fair and understanding, showing his wife and children respect and attention, the whole household benefits. Should he act the autocrat, ignoring the needs and wants of his spouse, there will not be peace or harmony. Therefore, a wise man will seek the interests of others besides himself. Rulership is very much the same, do you not agree?” She did not wait for his reply before she continued, “When the people respect their leaders, they will work tirelessly to support them. Where there is no respect, there is revolt.”

  “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person.” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Blaming the current administration for the discontent of the masses.” Sir Marcus appeared flummoxed at the strongly expressed insights from the lady. “You are blatantly wrong, young woman, and I would suggest that your father was lax in your upbringing. Did you have no governess?” He huffed and puffed, his voice growing louder. �
�The people today are not taught respect for their betters, and it shows in the way they rebel against authority. A firm hand of a good Prime Minister and legislation from Parliament will take care of those miscreants.”

  Miss Penelope rested her fork on her plate. After taking a sip of wine, she paused to regulate her breathing.

  “Sir Marcus, clearly, the issue is one of respect. When authority, as was mentioned by you, cares not for the circumstances of the people, the people are unhappy. Do you not comprehend the nature of men?”

  “You speak of something you do not know. The ‘people’ DO NOT MATTER!” Drops of saliva sprayed from his mouth.

  Calmly, Miss Penelope used her napkin to wipe the disgusting fluid from her sleeve.

  “Enough!” Darcy interjected, his voice sharp. “We will have calm at my table.” Directing his attention to Sir Marcus, he added, “Speak of something else. Now!”

  “Humph!” The man sat back in his chair and wiped his chin. “Young people these days…” he mumbled.

  Darcy glanced at the other end of the table, verifying whether Elizabeth had heard the exchange. Her slight smile and the slight lift of her glass to him proved her opinion was the same as his. Any person, male or female, who considered the workings of a home in comparison to the workings of government, or, for that matter, the relationship between the master of an estate and his tenants, was worthy of admiration.

  Then, he looked at Alex. The bemused expression gracing his face incited delight. Already, his son was taking note of a woman he originally had every intention of overlooking.

  Darcy caught sight of Miss Percival as the purse of her lips was relaxing after staring, or rather, glaring at Miss Penelope. The lift of her chin and the turn of her cheek was an unpleasant reminder that the apple typically does not fall very far from the tree. Darcy shuddered at the thought of having her permanently lodged at Pemberley. Not while he was Master.

  Surprisingly, Miss Constance Greenwood smiled at her sister while nodding her head in support. Darcy had assumed she was of the same character mold as Miss Percival. He wondered at the lady only briefly. She was not the one to settle Alex’s future.

  The entertainments of the evening could not end soon enough for Darcy. He had much to discuss with Elizabeth about the feminine gender currently in their house. His mind was set. Miss Penelope would be Alex’s wife. They would have to craft a plan to throw the two young ones together to hurry the courtship along.

  “You have them already wed?” Elizabeth was nestled beside him, the candles burning low. She ran her fingers over his chest and stretched like a cat whose back had been thoroughly scratched. She chuckled. “I will confess that I prefer Penelope Greenwood over Miss Millicent Percival for it appears the daughter is very much like her father in attitude.”

  “Her father is an old stick-in-the-mud who has not kept up with the times.” Darcy snorted.

  “That ‘old stick-in-the-mud’ is younger than you, my dearest husband, by four years.” His wife giggled.

  “Then he should respect his elders, should he not?” He was four years older? Impossible! Darcy was uncomfortable at the thought that he appeared to be more of an advanced age than the man. Good heavens! Sir Marcus looked at least sixty. Darcy thought to jump up and check himself in the tall dressing room mirror to see if he truly had aged beyond his years. However, the bed was so comfortable, and Elizabeth was quite contented where she lay. His vanity had no value compared to the tender caress of her arms.

  Sir Marcus reminded him of Gilbert Hurst, a man more concerned with greedily filling his belly and seeking his own desires than being received well by others. Should Alex marry the daughter of either gentleman, they would be thrust in each other’s company. Intolerable!

  He shook his head to get back on topic. “My love, how do we help our son to see where his future should be? He is much like his mother with her stubborn chin and stern countenance. How can we possibly convince him we are in the right where he believes it is his own idea?”

  “Fitzwilliam Darcy!” Elizabeth moved to rest on her elbow, giving him a light pat with her hand. He pretended it hurt so she would kiss his wound. She did not, rolling her eyes at his paltry attempt for succor. “We will not interfere with our son’s romantic life. He is like you, darling, with the propensity to over-think every little detail. Pray, allow him to choose his own mate at his own pace and his own time.” She finally bent down and brushed her lips over his cheek. “He will not thank us should we interfere.”

  “Humph!” While he knew her words to be true (after all, he would have hated interference with his courtship with Elizabeth), he balked at the thought of doing nothing.

  “Oh, humph, William. You sound like an old man.” Her teasing words hurt.

  When had he become so sensitive?

  ***

  Harrison Bingley had stayed at Pemberley two days after his arrival with Alex before he heard of a house party close by his parents’ home. His quick departure was as impulsive as his decision to join his cousin in his carriage had been. Therefore, it was no surprise when he returned unexpectedly.

  “I am quite determined to enjoy the company of your guests, Uncle Darcy.” Like his own son, Harrison Bingley was the mirror of his father, amiable with a ready smile. The three men sat in Pemberley’s study, where Sir Marcus would not condescend to invade the space or the conversation. “My parents send their regards.”

  “Thank you, Harrison.” Darcy questioned, “Is this your only reason for visiting?”

  “Certainly not.” Again, like his father, the younger man was unfailingly modest. “I longed to see James and Gerald before they shoot up and tower over me, I am anticipating devouring Cook’s fruit tarts by the dozens, and yearn to spend time with Aunt Lizzy as she cleverly admonishes me for one reason or another.”

  Darcy speculated the response had been prepared over the course of the long carriage ride that morning.

  “Is that all?” Lifting his brow in imitation of his wife, Darcy endeavored to tilt his head at the same angle he had observed many a time over the decades. It worked. His nephew burst out with the real reason for his visit. Women! How did they know to do these things to get directly to the heart of a man? Was it learned? Ingrained? Would Darcy ever know?

  “No, Uncle.” Harrison fidgeted. “In truth, I was worried about Alex.” He glanced at his cousin, as did Darcy. Immediately, his son struck a pose demonstrating the height of his indignation. Harrison stumbled to reply. “Alex, pray do not misunderstand me, my friend. Even you are aware of your struggles with the fairer sex. I am merely here to help you along by distracting the ladies you are poorly attempting to avoid, leaving you to the one you are trying to impress. It is a good plan.”

  “Humph!” Yes, his eldest even sounded like his father. “I need no help.”

  “How can that be?” Harrison wondered. “Since Eton, you have seldom been able to speak more than a word or two with a pretty girl. As of two weeks ago in London, you were fairing little better, my man. Has something changed? Has the influence of your dear mother finally taken hold of you so you smile and chat like the rest of us?”

  Darcy knew his nephew’s heart was in the right place—he agreed with most of his opinions.

  Before Alex could respond to the charges, Harrison added, “Pray tell, how is Miss Percival standing up against the other ladies? Does she still capture your eye? Or, have you found another guest to be more agreeable, someone who actually makes your heartstrings sing?”

  “Humph!” Alex glared at his cousin. “Harry, I see the path you are on. You are set to interfere in business that is not your own. This is, as I have told you many times before, a dangerous game you play. For one day, you will dance with the wrong daughter and find yourself waiting for your bride-to-be to saunter down the aisle as the father rubs his hands in glee at his girl capturing you and your inheritance.”

  Harrison chortled.

  “But to answer your question, impertinent though it was,” Alex sto
od and paced in front of his father’s desk, “Miss Percival is still the epitome of loveliness and grace.”

  Darcy felt both brows jolt almost to his hairline. Grace? The young lady had scoffed at Miss Penelope’s hem and had, by her manner, held herself above the other young lady when the subject of the conversation had been deemed inappropriate by her. Those were not the actions of a woman of grace.

  “The others, Alex? What are they like?” Harrison’s knee bounced in anticipation. “Are there any others who are particularly pretty?”

  “No. Not in comparison to Miss Percival.”

  What? What of Miss Penelope? Even Miss Constance Greenwood was lovelier than Miss Percival. Darcy knew better than to cast his opinion into the conversation, but he was truly surprised his son had not noticed what a vibrant, intelligent woman the younger Greenwood daughter was.

  “Well, that is a disappointment.” Harrison smirked. “However, I can tell by your countenance you are intrigued by someone other than Miss Percival. Who is it? What is her name? Is she fair-haired like your lady love? Does she have eyes as blue as the summer sky? Is she witty like your mother, or full of grace like mine?” Harrison jumped up to pace, in imitation of his cousin. “Who is she, man? Do not think I will not find out.” Harrison slapped Alex on the shoulder as he walked by, then reseated himself, his rant over.

  Darcy was puzzled. How had Harrison noticed something he had not? Impossible! Had Elizabeth? Undoubtedly. He shrugged, vowing to himself to pay closer attention to his son.

  He thought Alex was not going to answer his cousin’s nosy questions. While Harrison wore that silly grin, frustration filled his son until it boiled over.

  “I am not intrigued by Miss Penelope!” He slapped his hand over his mouth and Darcy wanted to grin. This was going to be good!