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

by Christie Capps

  “I am.” They reached the field surrounding the ruins and he pulled the landau to a stop. “I am also meditating on the value of a good woman to a man of means.”

  She pinched his leg as she scoffed. “As if a man without means has a wife with no value?” she teased. “What should you do with me if we were to lose it all?” She gestured behind him towards their house.

  “Why, Mrs. Darcy, we would live on love.” He smiled as he helped her from her seat to the ground. “And we would be all the richer for it.”

  “You are whimsical this morning, William.” She peered around him like she had misplaced her most cherished possession and was completely engaged in having it found. “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?”

  He dropped a kiss to her forehead, uncaring who witnessed the breech of propriety. She was his wife, they were at their home, and their guests were free to depart sooner than the one-week schedule for the house party. Well, with the exception of Miss Penelope. She would be required to stay.

  “Watch, William.” Elizabeth tilted her chin to where Gerald and James were assisting the current love of their lives from the transport. Alex stood from a distance, his unblinking stare observing the same. “She pays our eldest no attention at all.” Elizabeth’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh, dear heavens.” She giggled. “Miss Penelope Greenwood is entirely unaware she has the focus of any son other than the twins.” Squeezing Darcy’s hand, she continued, her comments for him alone. “I have no doubt Alex thinks he is being obvious and increasing her expectations as his addresses to her are marked. Yet, she would be quite taken by surprise should she be told.”

  “Should we tell her?” That came out of his mouth?

  “Absolutely, not!” Elizabeth huffed before walking towards her sons.

  Darcy saw it—that glint of challenge, that sparkle of determination Elizabeth wore when she set her mind to accomplishing a task outside of the ordinary.

  He figured Miss Penelope had better head to town to purchase her wedding clothes. He had no more work to do. Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy was now the major-general and her purpose was clear. Miss Penelope did not stand a chance of any future other than as the next Mrs. Darcy.

  NINE

  Harrison Bingley was more like his father than Darcy had known. After the separation of the sexes for the evening meal, the young man acted a close friend by attempting, with little success, to pry Alex from his position next to the fireplace mantel. Darcy was standing close enough—in actuality, he was right next to his son— that he could hear every spoken word.

  “Come, Alex,” said Harrison with a hiss. “I must have you away from your perch. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better mingle with the company so there would be at least a slight hope someone…” Bingley tilted his head to where the Miss Greenwoods were seated, “…just might get to know the kind, attentive man behind the silence.”

  Darcy almost swallowed his tongue. The words were so close to the ones Bingley’s father spoke the night he met Elizabeth that hearing them again was shocking. Darcy held his breath. Should his son reply in the same manner the father had done, carelessly tossing insults about the woman he would later claim as his wife, he vowed, then and there, to speak harshly to Alex to change his attitude immediately.

  Releasing his fisted hands, Darcy shook them to get the blood circulating again when his son acted far wiser than his father. With a brief nod, Alex hesitated as Miss Penelope stood and moved in the direction of the instrument, then followed Bingley to where she was now seated at the pianoforte.

  Darcy glanced towards his wife and noted her interest in the movements of the grouping. He wondered if she had heard. When her eyes glared at him before she looked away and smiled at their son, he had his answer. Exhaling, he wondered what the consequences would be when they were alone.

  ***

  They woke to overcast grey skies and a heavy mist blanketing the grounds. Plans for the men to spend the morning fishing were abandoned when the ladies decided to stay in. Had Darcy been able to foresee the events that took place in the breakfast room on that dreary morning, he would have kept to his bed with the covers pulled over his head. However, he rose with little care, knowing his darling wife had suitable entertainments planned for the house party along with their eldest son’s romantic life firmly under control.

  At the table, the only chair vacant on the near side of the table was between Alex and Miss Penelope. Under normal circumstances, Miss Millicent Percival seating herself between them would not have been a catastrophe. Nonetheless, Alex’s reaction at her interference with his staring at Miss Penelope—his startled jumping up from his seat and leaping backwards—was the first indication things would take on a life of their own. Like ripples on a pond when a heavy rock had been tossed in to disturb the surface, this one movement impacted the whole body of water.

  James, with his growing feet, hint of a dark mustache, and Adam’s apple, had been standing directly behind Alex. Immediately next to him was his twin, who was equally hairy and clumsy. Approaching the Darcy males with a full plate in his hand was Sir Marcus. His intentions to budge Miss Penelope from her position at the table had put him in line for disaster. For Alex knocked into James, and James into Gerald, who was launched backwards with his own plate full of sweet pastries and ham. Unfortunately, his shoulder clipped the back corner of Sir Marcus’ own shoulder, propelling him forward into Alex.

  Darcy stood in horror as the man, his eyes bulging in panic at his sudden loss of control, shot forward. His daughter, seeing the danger, mimicked Darcy’s eldest by jumping from her chair, her eyes planted on her father’s platter which was aimed at her person.

  Miss Percival’s mistake propelled Alex forwards as Miss Penelope scooted her chair back to remove herself from disaster. Her efforts were in vain.

  By the time the flying plates had settled, the only individuals standing were James and Miss Percival. Sir Marcus was on his side with his now-empty platter turned upside down under the serving tables. Gerald was draped over his middle and Alex was now seated comfortably on Miss Penelope’s lap, his nose bumping her left cheek as he twisted to keep her from injury and his hands sought to grasp something solid to catch his downward movement.

  Unfortunately, to the couple’s keen embarrassment, his right hand cupped her left…well, it would be unseemly to mention the softness or the… Darcy cleared his throat. Miss Percival screamed in horror at the vision in front of her. Her father moaned from the floor, and James endeavored to assist his twin to stand.

  Elizabeth clapped her hand over her mouth as Harrison’s peals of laughter bounced from the walls. The others dropped their mouths as Alex, Darcy’s reticent, ponder-every-detail-to-death-before-he-acted son, impulsively covered Miss Penelope’s opened lips with his own.

  Not an eye blinked—except Miss Penelope’s—whose lashes first shot to the high ceilings and then dropped to rest on her cheeks.

  It must have been mid-kiss when the couple came out of the fog to realize they were the center of a spectacle rarely, if ever, seen during the house party of a country estate—more particularly at Pemberley.

  When the dust settled and the guests were cared for by Pemberley’s capable staff, Mr. Greenwood and Alex were seated in Darcy’s study. The Percivals had packed up and left for their home with their sobbing daughter in tow. The other guests had also chosen to depart. Only Harrison Bingley remained under the guise of offering comfort to his friend and cousin. His happy grin did nothing to soothe Alex; it only increased his frustrations at the situation.

  Prior to inviting Mr. Greenwood and Alex into his private room, the twins had stood in front of him, their heads lowered and chins almost touching their chests.

  “Papa, what if it truly was an accident but I was, in the secret place of my heart, pleased that events happened as they did?” Gerald had spoken first after taking in a deep breath to bolster his nerve. “The…situation…will result in Alex’
s happiness, will it not? He will not be angry, will he?”

  Darcy watched the expressions flash across his son’s face, the twin most like his Elizabeth. James’ countenance, on the other hand, showed nothing, and Darcy had long known which parent he resembled. Covering his mouth with his hand, Darcy exhaled into his palm. How best to answer him?

  “Gerald, as you are both aware, this morning’s tumult in the breakfast room was, indeed, an accident. Because of this, events unfolded which were not maliciously done but will change the lives of both Alex and Miss Penelope. I have no doubt that word is already flying through Derbyshire about what has happened in our home, and soon gossip about your brother will be gracing the parlors of London.”

  “But, he would hate to have his name bandied about, Papa,” James vehemently asserted. Like his brother, he was a private young man.

  “Yes, son, that is true.” Darcy waited until both boys looked up. “You mentioned the desires of the secret person of your heart, Gerald. Is your heart in agreement, James?”

  The lad nodded.

  Darcy considered what to say. These boys had generous souls. They had dealt well together since birth. Both loved Alex and their sister and wanted the best for each of their siblings.

  “I see.” Darcy’s gaze moved from one to the other and back. “I believe we need to give both Alex and Miss Penelope time to adjust to their new circumstances. I have yet to speak with her father and have not heard Alex’s response so would be precipitate to state for certainty what will happen. However, your brother is honorable, as are the two of you. I am proud to call you sons.”

  “Thank you, Papa.” They spoke in unison.

  “I suggest you find an activity you can do together that will keep you isolated from the needed discussions with your brother and the Greenwoods.” He suggested, “Perhaps your mother needs your loving attention right now. The decisions made will affect her as well.”

  “Thank you, Papa. Do not worry over Mama. We will take charge of her care as if we were you,” Gerald insisted as James nodded his agreement.

  They marched from his study with their heads held high and their shoulders pressed back with purpose. Pride in his progeny filled him until dampness threated to squeeze from his eyes. His youngest were worthy gentlemen.

  “Darling,” his wife peeked around the tall chair where she had been sitting during the interview. “You sent them to find a mother who is not wanting to be found.”

  He had known she was there when he had walked into the room with the boys. The heavy chair in the far corner of his study had been turned to face the back wall. Darcy concluded that for his wife to go to the effort of hefting the furniture so she would have a place to hide, Elizabeth would be rewarded by him not mentioning his awareness of her location. He smiled at the woman who held his heart.

  “Our boys!” She exclaimed and returned his grin, evidence of her pride in her carriage as she walked.

  “Our heir, Elizabeth.” Words failed him.

  “I know.” Again, Elizabeth nodded. “I do believe, dear husband, that your son is as gifted at attracting his lady-love with the same success his father had all those years ago.” She giggled. “Although his approach was far more direct.”

  “Ha!” Darcy scoffed as his wife walked closer. “Had I attempted to kiss you when I first had the inclination, you would have boxed my ears.”

  “You are referring to the Netherfield Ball? You wanted to kiss me then?” Her brow lifted as she gracefully moved next to him.

  Gathering her close, he ran his chin over her hair. “Heavens, no! I had wanted to kiss you for at least six weeks by the time we had our first dance.”

  She pulled back. “What? You cannot be serious. When?”

  “I have never stated truer words, Elizabeth Darcy.” He brushed his lips over her cheek and then her forehead, followed by her pointed chin, and her pert nose. “My arms yearned to wrap you in them the day you walked the three miles from your home at Longbourn to nurse Jane at Netherfield Park. I longed to run my fingers over your hair, soothing it from where it had come loose from the pins, and my mouth—my mouth desired yours in the worst way possible.”

  “I never knew,” she muttered as her lips drank from his.

  The firm knock on the study door heralded the arrival of Alex and Miss Greenwood’s father.

  “Will you stay?” he enquired, resting his forehead on hers until his breathing settled.

  “No, I shall see to the Greenwood ladies.” Stepping away, her hand still encapsulated by his, she smiled. “Our Miss Penelope’s mettle was tested this morning as her future was set. I think most young women, for a certainty the others at our table, would have been beside themselves at the results. Nonetheless, the remarkable calm shown by our soon-to-be daughter while fire shot from her eyes and her hands clenched into fists told me she will be a fine addition to our household. You may proceed without me.”

  She knew how he would respond at her final tease. He pulled her to him and kissed her again. Releasing her hand, his heart lightened by her presence, he was prepared to face whatever would happen in the next hour. Before she could open the door to leave the room, he barked, “Enter.”

  TEN

  Elizabeth Darcy waited until Mr. Greenwood and his daughter stepped into the study before departing. Darcy had not caught her intent when she had spoken of the Greenwood ladies. His assumption had been Mrs. Greenwood and Miss Constance Greenwood. He had been wrong.

  Once he was re-seated behind his desk, it was only Mr. Greenwood and his son whom he faced. His dear bride had easily removed a stunned Miss Penelope from what she referred to as a male “bastion” for her own purposes.

  Mr. Greenwood proved he was a reasonable man. He wore his frustration at the circumstances close to his chest. Darcy briefly pondered the difference had it been Sir Marcus’ daughter compromised in his breakfast room—the man would have gloated at his victory for having captured the matrimonial prize.

  “Darcy,” Miss Penelope’s father turned to Alex. “Young Darcy, would certain guests not have been eyewitnesses to the…em…uproar,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “I feel we could have passed over the…er…event and termed it an accident.” The man shook his head. “With that said, there were witnesses, a few who are known to have a propensity for quickly telling tales. Therefore, I recommend our two offspring enter into a—

  “We will marry.” The words burst from his son, whose fingers were tightly gripping the wooden arms of the chair. Alex’s spine was erect, his chin slightly elevated, and his eyes piercing. Darcy well knew that posture. Nothing would budge his son from his decision. It would be like a single individual trying to lift the whole of Pemberley in his arms. Impossible!

  “Marry?” Mr. Greenwood’s head turned towards Alex, his face a study in surprise. “Why would you possibly consider I would betroth my daughter to you when you have spent little time together, sir?”

  At the gentleman’s words, the knuckles on the back of his son’s hands turned stark white.

  “My honor would allow for no less, Mr. Greenwood, for it was I who placed Miss Penelope in a compromise. There must be no other than myself who answers for the harm I have done her reputation and that of her family, sir.” Alex tipped his chin slightly in respect. “I will have it no other way.”

  Darcy was inordinately proud of his eldest.

  Mr. Greenwood’s eyes dropped to the floor as his chin rested in his cupped hand. He studied the carpets until Darcy suspected his eyes would bore a hole in the fabric. Then, he spoke.

  “Young man,” Dropping his hand to rest on his knee, Mr. Greenwood looked directly at Alex. “While I thank you for agreeing that drastic measures need taken to protect my daughter, I will allow a courtship so you both may come to know each other’s minds and hearts. A long courtship, say, at least six months in length.”

  Alex started to protest, but Mr. Greenwood held up his hand.

  “My daughter has not reached her majority so her fut
ure will be decided by me, not by you.” Mr. Greenwood was like a brick wall. Darcy had been in the same position many times with his wife—two immovable objects pitted against each other with neither willing to give an inch. “I am not a blind man. I am aware of what marriage to a Darcy would offer my daughter. However, her mother and I have enjoyed a long and happy marriage. I yearn for the same for my children.”

  “As do I,” Darcy replied.

  “Of that I do not doubt, Darcy, for I have observed the same affection between you and Mrs. Darcy while at your estate. The ease with which you converse, even without words, speaks of a forever kind of love my own dear wife and I have cultivated.” Mr. Greenwood now faced the Master of Pemberley. “While I have no evidence to believe contrarily, I would not be surprised to find the son has the exact nature as the father.”

  Darcy nodded. He noted his son’s efforts to remain calm—regulated breathing, rigid torso, and gritted teeth. Darcy also noticed small beads forming on Alex’s upper lip, his furrowed brow, and the slight tapping of the heel of his son’s right boot on the floor. His son’s affections were already engaged. Darcy wanted to smile. He easily remembered those feelings.

  Mr. Greenwood reasoned, “Then, you would agree that the passage of time will allow the gossip to end when some other scandal springs up to brush what has happened this morning out of people’s minds?” When Darcy dipped his chin in agreement, the man continued. “By having a six-month period for their courtship, should my daughter decide not to marry your son, there would be less talk should she call off the arrangement. Should your son find the same, I would not hesitate to release him from tying himself to a woman he could not love.”