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

by Christie Capps

  SEVEN

  Darcy scooted forward in his seat. He would praise Harrison Bingley to the high heavens. He might even gift him one of the stallions his nephew had long desired. He would remember everything said in this room and tell Elizabeth later.

  “Of course, you are not. What was I thinking?” Harrison teased.

  Running his hands through his hair, his son growled into the room.

  “You have no idea, Harry, how impertinent…how bold Miss Penelope can be.” The steps from one end of his desk to the other came faster. “She argued publicly with Sir Marcus about politics. Politics, of all things!”

  “I cannot begin to imagine how distressing this had to be; how your sensibilities were offended at the speech of such a woman.” Harry shook his head as his eyes sparkled mischief and his grin grew broader. “I completely understand you thinking she is as appealing as a slimy slug, my man. You would never think of how she would feel in your arms, running your fingers through her silken tresses, as her hands cupped your face before you bent to press…”

  “Enough!” Darcy said at the same time his son shouted, “Harrison!”

  Alex stopped his pacing and dropped into the chair next to his cousin. His voice was as quiet as a whisper. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, indeed I have.”

  “Ah-Ha!” Thrusting his index finger into the air, Bingley exploded in excitement. “I knew it! I knew you could not spend time in her company and not be affected. When you told me who your mother invited to this house party I hoped, for the first time this past year since university, that you would find a complement to you, a lady who would jostle you out of your quiet. A woman very much like your mother.”

  “My mother,” Alex mused. His head lifted and he stared at his father. “She is like my mother?”

  Darcy nodded, allowing himself to show his pleasure at his offspring’s keen understanding with a small grin, but only a small one as befit the occasion.

  “My mother.” Cupping his chin in the right hand that rested on the arm of the chair, Alex stilled. Darcy knew, without a doubt, that his son was reconsidering every action and word from the day prior, reviewing the interchange with Miss Penelope Greenwood. “My mother?”

  Again, he nodded. Bingley did as well.

  Standing, the lost look dropped from Alex’s face to be replaced by sheer determination. Without saying another word, he walked out of the study, leaving his father and cousin behind. Darcy knew where he headed. Before Elizabeth, he would have done the same. There was nothing like a gallop across the countryside to stir a man’s thinking; to help rearrange the pieces of whatever was puzzling him. Sure enough, within minutes, they heard him barking orders to the grooms, requesting his favorite mare.

  “Well, Uncle, I think that worked.” Harrison smiled.

  Darcy refused to allow his nephew to believe he was a partner in what had happened, so he remained quiet. He needed to talk to Elizabeth.

  ***

  There had been no rain since the day before. The sun was shining brilliantly so the ground was dry enough for a picnic and outdoor activities. James and Gerald were constantly underfoot as the Pemberley party departed for the lawns where archery, pale-maille, and shuttlecock were set out for the guests’ entertainment. Immediately, the twins grabbed mallets to whack the wooden balls through the hoops. The gentlemen moved towards the targets, hefting the bows to see which was the best fit for them. The ladies either sat in the chairs placed under the shade canopy his staff had set up or watched the gentlemen at their sport. Miss Percival had attached herself to Alex’s arm, not allowing him any fun at all. The more time Darcy spent in her company, the more striking her resemblance to Miss Bingley became. He shuddered.

  “Come on, Alex. I challenge you to attempt besting me. I have a keen eye and a steady arm. I have no doubt my arrows will fly true and straight.” Harrison was intent on separating the undesirable Miss Percival from his cousin. It worked.

  Jackets were removed and sleeves were rolled up. Darcy took his place in line, grateful he no longer had to swelter under the sun wearing the dark wool coat because of strict rules of propriety demanding it. For the millionth time, he was grateful the ladies of the ton no longer looked askance at a man in his shirt sleeves.

  Graciously, his son offered, “Would any of the ladies like to join us?” Darcy followed his son’s eyes directly to Miss Penelope, where she was holding her own against his younger sons. His intentions were obvious. To him. Not, apparently, to Miss Percival.

  “Why, Mr. Darcy,” she crooned to Alex. “I would adore if you personally helped me hold the bow properly.” She batted her lashes. “Although I have practiced the sport, I am sure I will benefit from your expertise.”

  Darcy wanted to snort. Yes, Caroline Bingley!

  Peals of merriment floated across the valley like the refreshing mist on a hot day, interrupting his ire at Miss Percival. The younger Greenwood daughter had deftly manipulated her ball against the side of a wicket, tapping Gerald’s target back where he would need to try again. Kindly, she patted his shoulder as she hinted how best to complete the task. When he followed through and met with success, she clapped in delight. Miss Penelope Greenwood paid not one ounce of attention to his eldest. Darcy was delighted.

  Miss Penelope had not been looking at Alex, but both of the twins spied him selecting a bow and determined archery was the sport of the moment. Abandoning their game, Gerald grabbed the young lady’s hand and pulled her to where his brother was standing. Again, she paid him no mind.

  “Miss Penelope, may I offer assistance as to the correct stance and position so you may participate in the competition?” Darcy was overjoyed that his youngest displayed the fine manners expected from his children.

  “I would be delighted, kind sir.” Miss Penelope curtsied before moving to select the equipment. At the end of the table there were smaller, lighter bows crafted specifically for the female sex. It was not one of those that caught the eye of Miss Penelope. She happened to select Darcy’s personal weapon. It took a man’s muscles to pull the string back to where it needed to be. Not even Alex attempted to use his father’s bow. She looked to the youngest of the twins. “I assume this would be the particular weapon appropriate for you?” Before he could respond, she placed it back on the table and added, “However, I am not as strong as you, Master Gerald. If you might help me select a bow more fitting to my temperament, I would be pleased.”

  Darcy wanted to kiss her feet. That his child was made to feel the man in company was something Gerald would never forget. In fact, at first glance, it appeared the boy had grown four inches taller with her compliment. Darcy had no doubt his son’s dreams that night would be filled with himself on a white charger rescuing a captive damsel in distress who looked remarkably similar to Miss Penelope.

  As she was the sole female participating in the sport, the gentlemen stepped back either to allow her first opportunity to shoot, or in fear her arrow would go wild and there was the risk of injury. With little instruction, she notched the arrow on the string. Gerald spoke to her quietly as he walked her through the paces. She pulled the string back, her arms perfectly in position, and released the two fingers of her right hand.

  The arrow’s path was true. Landing at the upper edge of the crimson bullseye circle, Gerald jumped into the air in celebration. Miss Penelope gave him her full attention, thanking him for his assistance.

  “Master Gerald, I was pondering the enjoyment a competition would bring between you and your twin. Do you both consider yourselves to be evenly matched?” Both boys eagerly nodded at her question. “Then, if the others do not mind, let the games begin.”

  “Alex, you must join us. You too, Papa.” James echoed his brother’s pleas. “We will attempt to best each other to see who the official Darcy archery champion will be. Please say you will.”

  When the guests applauded the suggestion, there was nothing left for Darcy to do but roll his sleeves down and allow Elizabeth to tie the fabric tight
ly to his arm. The billowy linen was a hindrance to a good aim. Miss Percival performed the same task for Alex, while Miss Penelope helped the twins.

  Darcy won.

  ***

  “Father, at what age should I be prepared to court a lady?”

  The question caught Darcy quite by surprise. He had excused himself from company to follow the twins upstairs to spend a few moments with his sons before they retired for the evening.Alex had joined them for the nightly visit. Seated on the edges of the bed, the highlights of the day had been shared between the Darcy males until all that was left were impressions. It was Gerald who had asked the question.

  Darcy did not answer right away. At twelve years of age, he could not recall having a future with a woman on his mind. “Why do you ask, son?”

  “I saw her first,” James blurted before his twin could answer. “Besides, my honor is engaged, so the appropriate action is for me to offer her my hand in marriage—when I am older.” A heated argument ensued between the brothers. Darcy glanced at his eldest to see if he was aware of whom they were speaking. Alex shrugged his shoulders. He did not know.

  Several younger daughters of his guests were in attendance at Pemberley’s house party. Like the Bennets, the Teagardens had five daughters, two of them too young to be in society, yet they had been brought to Pemberley. Possibly one had caught the eye of both boys.

  Darcy cleared his throat, resulting in immediate silence. The twins glared at each other. It had been the way of the boys to be as close as two humans could get the majority of the day only to flare up against each other at the slightest provocation. However, the battle rarely lasted more than a few moments before it fizzled out to nothing and peace at Pemberley was restored.

  “Of whom are you speaking?” Darcy supposed it was young… what was her name? She had flaming red hair, startling green eyes, and a pert attitude. He was unsurprised she had caught the attention of his sons. What did surprise him was their strongly expressed feelings over the girl. Eugenie, that was her name. He had remembered.

  James and Gerald looked at one another, no longer combatants, now, partners in crime. Neither was willing to share. Alex decided to help them out.

  “Which Miss Teagarden has captured your fancy, brothers? If it is the youngest, she is, indeed, a pretty little miss. But, marriage? Your honor engaged? How can this be?”

  Darcy was pleased his heir did not patronize his siblings. He would be a good father one day. Darcy smiled to himself at the thought. He was pleased with all three of his sons.

  “Miss Teagarden? Why ever would you believe we would fall in love with a child?” Although it was Gerald who spoke, both boys wore expressions of offense as they huffed and puffed their chests out in indignation.

  “Then whom?” Alex pursued.

  As one, the twins replied, both exceedingly puzzled at their brother’s lack of good sense. Darcy discerned their attitude because they verbally accused his eldest of having lost his mind. “Miss Penelope, of course.”

  “Of course,” replied their dumbfounded brother. Darcy held his amusement to himself. Alex could not hide his horror that his greatest competition for the woman who had caught and held his attention the whole of the day were his own little brothers.

  Darcy couldn’t wait to tell Elizabeth. She would not be able to restrain her laughter. He smiled at the thought.

  EIGHT

  “No, lower please.” Darcy moaned as Elizabeth pressed her thumbs into his tender flesh. His muscles ached beyond measure, a non-too-subtle reminder that he was no longer the age of his sons.

  “What were you thinking, Fitzwilliam?” Elizabeth dug harder into his skin. Then she lightened her touch and smoothed her hands over his shoulder blades and down his arms, soothing him from the outside to the depths of his toes. He loved her tender ministrations. “Our boys are already aware their father is strong and skilled with a bow. You have taught them well. You needed not compete against each one of them and the other men to impress your wife, you know?”

  “I did not?” He flexed his stiff fingers and looked back at Elizabeth as she wrapped her arms around him, her torso pressed against his back. He captured her hands and held her tightly. “You do not believe I feared I would lose your favor should I surrender my title as undisputed archery champion of Pemberley, while you looked on?”

  She kissed his cheek, then rubbed her nose on the stubble covering them. “I do find you are exceedingly proud of your accomplishments.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder, her mouth nibbling at his neck. “What was your motive, my husband?”

  He lifted her fingers to his mouth. “To the victor belongs the spoils?” he suggested. When she snickered into his skin and kissed the sensitive spot under his lobe, he knew every ache, every pain, every effort of the day would be made worth it in her arms.

  ***

  The next day the guests piled into open landaus to tour Pemberley’s park and visit the Roman ruins on the eastern border. The area was hilly and lined with a thick forest. Darcy anticipated visiting the area as it held special memories for him and Elizabeth. Months into their marriage, it was in the privacy of the location that she had taken his hand and placed it on her abdomen, telling him her secret—in five months, he would become a father. On this occasion, very much unlike the other, they would be joined by over a dozen guests and family. It made no difference to him. He had Elizabeth riding at his side as he drove the four miles to the location.

  She leaned into him and whispered, “An interesting occurrence, was it not?”

  Immediately, he knew of what she spoke. Both twins had scrambled to present themselves to ride seated across from Miss Penelope in her conveyance. Alex was approaching to do the same when the lady smiled at the younger lads and said, “I beg your pardon, Master Gerald and Master James, but Miss Percival, Miss Thornton, and my sister have already arranged to be my traveling companions with delightful expectation of speaking of ribbons, lace, and the latest fashions from town.”

  Gerald and James had turned their noses up in disgust at the topic. Darcy would need to speak with them later to remind them to better hold their counsel while in company of a lady. At her words, Alex had stopped in his tracks, his shoulders drooping. Miss Percival attempted to catch his attention with a “yoo-hoo” but he gathered his horse’s reins and mounted without responding.

  “She treated their tender hearts with gentleness, did she not?” Elizabeth mused, grateful her babies had not been left embarrassed or hurt in front of eyewitnesses. “I thought Alex’s response noteworthy.”

  Darcy chuckled softly. “He looked as downcast as the boys.” To cover over his discomfort, his heir had wordlessly corralled his brothers and asked if they would ride alongside the carriages with him and Harrison. The boys had been thrilled to be accepted into the grouping of the adults.

  “Yes, he did, and I do not believe it was Miss Percival with whom he was hoping to share a bench seat.” He harrumphed into her ear. Then he thought of the implications of the younger Miss Greenwood’s actions. “Do you not find that this indicates an inherent interest in sparing the feelings of others, especially those who are vulnerable? I find I quite like that in a character for it is what first caused me to consider how you just might be the woman to hold the position of Mistress of my estate, Elizabeth.”

  “And when was that, my love?” Elizabeth rested her gloved hand against the side of his thigh where she would be unobserved for being forward in public.

  “When you walked three miles to care for Jane at Netherfield Park.” He waved his hand into the air. “Oh, it was not only that event, dearest.” He shifted the reins to one hand and openly patted her own cloth-covered thigh. “While that particular action showed deep affection for a sibling, it was your repeated restraint in replying to Miss Bingley’s harsh words against both you and your family that demonstrated your value. For in doing so, you preserved peace in Bingley’s home. He was a nervous master who anxiously desired nothing more than to do well at the
task of overseeing his first estate. Your choosing to react in that manner dignified him as Miss Penelope dignified our sons.”

  “Her value is increasing with exposure?” His wife’s attention was solely on him. This was not a matter to tease or react with jest. Their son’s future rested on the woman he would take as a wife. Should he be fooled by a young lady who acted in pretence as to her character or who secretly coveted the position that the wife of a Darcy would bring to her and her family, his years would be sorrowful and tumultuous. Should she be a female of merit who was honest in her dealings with others with kindness as a predominant quality, his son, like his father, would be happy and joyful for the rest of his days.

  “Yes, Elizabeth. I see no false modesty or cunning in Miss Penelope. She does not put herself forward or use mean arts to make others look inferior. That she should give consideration to our young boys’ feelings, to children who could do nothing for her, elevates her into the realm of the select few who might qualify to live at Pemberley.” Darcy glanced back to see his heir smile at something one of his brothers had shared. Gerald held his reins exactly as Alex did, and James looked at his brother with worshipful eyes. He trusted his son to guide the younger Darcys and not to lead them astray from their good training.

  Once the twins left for Eton, they would be outside his immediate supervision, and he worried daily at them coming to harm. He had done the same with Alex, fretting until Elizabeth bade him to travel repeatedly to Berkshire so they both would be reassured.

  He loved his boys with his whole heart.

  Darcy chuckled, capturing his wife’s eyes with his own. She read him like one of the books in their library.

  “You are no longer thinking of Miss Penelope, husband. The softness of your gaze and your countenance speaks of our children. You are thinking of them.” She knew him. Every part and every inclination. He desperately wanted the same for his sons—for them to have a woman at their side who would support them when they were weak, love them when they felt alone, laugh with them when they rejoiced, and share with them an accumulation of memories to carry them through the good and bad times inherent to life in the 19th century.