The Darcys of Pemberley

by Shannon Winslow

  “No, Lizzy,” said Darcy, “do not force yourself to think of it again.”

  “I cannot but think of it, and perhaps the two of you can help me sort it out. Yet how shall I begin to explain? It was at once both alarmingly realistic and completely nonsensical. There were horses and carriages all whirling round in a hideous, tangled mess; a woman screaming in pain or fear, or both; and a man, all in shadow, who seemed to be somehow at the heart of the trouble. The horror slowly rolled on and on, as if it would never end.”

  “How awful!” said Kitty. “And who was the woman? Was it you, Lizzy?”

  “I really cannot say. It seemed I was in her place and at the same time outside, watching the scene helplessly from above. I was no disinterested bystander either way. Yet no matter how hard I struggled, I was completely powerless to do anything useful. Oh, what a wretched feeling!” she cried.

  “That will do,” said Darcy, blotting his wife’s tears and brushing the hair away from her face. “Kitty, no more questions. It cannot be good for your sister to dwell on something that has upset her so. It is just as I feared; the travel is too much for you, Elizabeth. Your fatigue has caused your mind to turn this carriage ride, and the slight chance of an accident, into the makings of a nightmare. If you were not overtired, this would not have happened. I am sure of it.”

  “I suppose I have been under a bit of a strain the last few days,” Elizabeth admitted, “what with all the travel arrangements and the wedding and such. And it is not uncommon for a woman who is with child to suffer from all sorts of strange maladies, including unusual dreams. Jane told me some of hers were very odd indeed.”

  “There. You see? You have your answer,” Darcy concluded. “Your nightmare is nothing so extraordinary after all, nothing more than what can be very reasonably accounted for. Now, you must put it out of your head and think of more pleasant things.”

  Elizabeth endeavored to do so, with modest success. From time to time, however, the recollection of some part or other of the dream came unbidden to her mind with enough force to make her shudder. No matter how sincerely she tried, Elizabeth could not completely cast off her original conviction that it had been no ordinary dream but a harbinger of some evil tide, a foreshadowing of trouble ahead.

  Chapter 25

  Home Again

  Despite Elizabeth’s foreboding, no calamity, great or small, befell the three occupants of the carriage on the remainder of their journey. They spent the night at a favorite inn and traversed the remaining miles the next day in uncompromised safety, if not in total comfort of body and soul. The first sight of Pemberley in the fading light of day cheered them considerably. Still, Elizabeth did not feel completely easy until at last she set her feet upon solid ground at the doors of the house itself. Only then did she put aside the trepidation that had been her constant companion since the nightmare first interrupted her repose.

  Darcy requested a cold supper be brought posthaste, yet he could scarcely persuade his wife, weary as she was, to partake of a few bites before retreating upstairs to the solace of their bedchamber. There Elizabeth shortly lapsed into a deep, undisturbed sleep. Unlike the night before, she did not lay awake dreading another visitation by unpleasant apparitions. The nightmare’s power had waned along with the strength of its recollection.

  By the time Elizabeth arose next morning, Darcy had long since quit their room. She dressed without hurry and came downstairs, hungry and desirous of discovering the whereabouts of her husband and sister. She found the former in the library with Mr. Adams and the latter in the breakfast room. As she knew her presence would not be wanted in the library, she chose the company of her sister.

  “Good morning, Kitty,” she said. “Are you finding everything you need?”

  “Good morning. I should say so! Nothing can compare to the food here at Pemberley. I always look forward to it. Have some of the ham, Lizzy. It is excellent!”

  Elizabeth laughed at her enthusiasm. “Your secret is out, Kitty. Apparently, it is the pleasure of our sideboard rather than our company that brings you here so often.”

  “Oh, no. The food is only one of many advantages,” Kitty corrected. “Lizzy, when may we visit Heatheridge? I do so want to see Jane and the babies again. And Lydia too, of course.”

  “Yes, I feel the same, except I really cannot bear the thought of traveling again so soon. Perhaps you might go on your own, as early as tomorrow if you like. I would be happy to order a carriage and send a maid and a footman with you.”

  “But surely you and Mr. Darcy will want to come as well. You cannot mind the little distance when there are such friends to be met. Let us all go tomorrow, the three of us.”

  “My dear sister, your proposal has no chance of succeeding, I assure you. In a few days, I may be persuaded, but at this moment I have no inclination to leave Pemberley, even for Heatheridge. When you have a home of your own, you will understand how good it is to return to it after being away. As for Mr. Darcy, I warrant you will find him just as reluctant to leave as I am, especially for a place where he is likely to encounter Mr. Wickham.”

  “Oh dear, I had forgotten about that. I suppose it would be awkward.”

  “Awkward and most unpleasant, at least on Mr. Darcy’s side. I cannot speak for Mr. Wickham. He apparently suffers no shame over his past conduct, so it might not distress him in the least. At any rate, whilst the Wickhams are in residence, it will be difficult for me and impossible for Mr. Darcy to go to Heatheridge. We must hope they do not intend to stay much longer. In the meantime, you may go, or perhaps, when I send word to Jane that we are come back, the Bingleys will decide to visit here instead.”

  Whether for the excellent food or other considerations, Kitty did not desert Pemberley immediately after all. Darcy and Elizabeth resumed their regular routines, and their first few days at home passed quietly.

  Other than being easily fatigued, Elizabeth continued in good health and spirits. She was at the pleasant but fleeting stage of being joyously sensible of the child she carried without yet suffering much discomfort from its growing demands on her own constitution. It was a continual fascination to her to monitor the infant’s movements and imagine what the future would be like once their son or daughter was born.

  About a week after their return from London, the Darcys received a very welcome call from Ruth and Mr. Sanditon. The friends greeted each other with great cordiality after their substantial separation. Then, a lesser acquaintance was renewed.

  “I imagine that you both remember my younger sister,” said Elizabeth.

  “Yes, of course,” answered Mr. Sanditon. “How nice to see you again, Miss Bennet. How long will you be staying on this visit?”

  “I have no definite plans. Happily, I am free to divide my time between home, Pemberley, and Heatheridge as I like.”

  “How agreeable for you, Miss Bennet, to have such an accommodating family,” said Ruth. “I have been so fortunate as to enjoy the hospitality of kind relations as well,” she said with a nod to Mr. Sanditon.

  “I assure you, madam, I am the one benefited. See all the new friends I have acquired through your coming,” he said indicating the Darcys. “I only wish we had the others back amongst us as well. Darcy, I was disappointed to hear that Mrs. Collins and your sister did not return with you. It is such a loss to our local society to have them still away in London. When can we expect them home?” he asked with a casualness that belied his very material interest in the question.

  Only Elizabeth knew his particular reason for so much regretting the delayed return of the ladies after which he inquired. She marked how quickly he had come to the point, and pitied him.

  “I really cannot hazard a guess,” Darcy replied. “I can only tell you that Georgiana has not yet got her fill of town. She begged leave to remain, and Mrs. Collins was good enough to stay on with her so that we could come away. But I agree with you; I shall be glad when they are both restored to us.”

  Mr. Sanditon pressed the issue of
the ladies left behind in London only one degree further, inquiring after and receiving assurances of their health. Over tea, the conversation moved on to other topics: Mr. Sanditon’s daughters, the progress of a drainage project at Reddclift, and an account of which relations and friends were expected to visit the area in coming months.

  Just two days later, Jane and Mr. Bingley came calling, the two infants and their nurse in tow. Elizabeth half expected Lydia to accompany them as well, but she had stayed at home feeling poorly, according to Jane. Shortly after their arrival, Mr. Darcy, with apologies, excused himself to keep an appointment with one of his tenants. Mr. Bingley eagerly accepted the invitation to accompany him, and the two old friends soon rode off together.

  The ladies were thus left to entertain themselves, or rather to be entertained by little Charles and Frances. Jane’s report had indeed been correct; the infants were so considerably changed that at first sight Elizabeth would not have known them. Within the space of five minutes, however, they were all on the most familiar terms again. Kitty and Elizabeth fussed over their niece and nephew in turn, the sharing made simple by there being precisely the same number of children to be held as there were aunts eager to hold them.

  Ultimately, the nurse put an end to it, announcing that it was high time her charges had their naps. No protests could dissuade the woman from her duty, and she bundled the babies off to a quiet room, where she stayed to watch over them.

  “Mrs. Grayling is such a treasure,” said Jane. “I should be certain to spoil the twins completely, but she will not condone coddling. She is so wise about what is best for the children. We are fortunate to have found her.”

  “It sounds like a most agreeable arrangement,” said Elizabeth. “What about your house guests, Jane? Do you get along as well with them after these six weeks?”

  Jane hesitated, a pained expression creasing her face. “Well,” she began apologetically, “I do love my sister and brother dearly, although these days we are not on such happy terms, I think. Not that they have done anything so very bad. The trouble is they seem a little too comfortably settled with us, and apparently have no plans to quit Heatheridge any time soon. In fact, Mr. Wickham has made a point of mentioning that he has no immediate prospects now that he is out of the army and, therefore, no reasonable hope of affording a decent place to live. We begin to worry that they will never leave! Even Mr. Bingley has begun to lose patience; he has gone so far as to consider giving them a hint. Yet I do not know where they would go in any case.”

  “They cannot possibly stop here,” Elizabeth reminded her.

  “No, of course not. I would never ask that, Lizzy.”

  “I wish I had a home of my own,” said Kitty, wistfully. “Then they could come to me and stay as long as they liked. What fun Lydia and I would have! It would be just like the old days.”

  “A very nice sentiment, my dear,” said Elizabeth. “Yet, were it possible to put it to the test, I suspect you would be disappointed. You and your sister have both changed in the last two years. You are not so similar as you once were.”

  “You mustn’t be downcast, Kitty,” said Jane. “You have other friends and other things to look forward to now.”

  “As you speak of other friends, Jane, I should tell you we are expecting a visit from Miss Bingley and the Hursts here at Pemberley in about a fortnight,” Elizabeth announced, putting a cheerful front on the thing for Jane’s sake. “They would rather have come to you, I daresay, but they accepted Mr. Darcy’s invitation instead because you already have house guests. Still, you will no doubt see them a great deal while they are in the neighborhood. Miss Bingley is especially eager to meet her niece and nephew.”

  After the Bingleys had gone, Darcy and Elizabeth retreated to the settee on the porch adjacent to the saloon, to take the evening air and review events of the day. The shade thrown down by the trees on the lawn grew ever longer as they talked, Elizabeth relating Jane’s concerns about the Wickhams’ protracted stay at Heatheridge only to learn that the gentlemen had a very similar conversation on their ride.

  “What is to be done about them?” puzzled Elizabeth. “They cannot be allowed to impose upon the Bingleys forever. Yet I can think of no remedy, no way to compel them to behave like responsible adults if they themselves are disinterested in doing so.”

  Darcy looked grim. “I fear there is no easy solution. The situation must be dealt with, however … and soon.”

  Hoping to ease his serious mood, Elizabeth said lightly, “What a bad bargain you made when you married me, Mr. Darcy, acquiring such odious relations. I am sure you have often been sorry for it,” she declared, fully expecting her husband to protest against such a statement, to deny there was any truth to it. To her surprise and mortification, he did not.

  Darcy held his wife tightly to himself and kissed her forehead, but could not bring himself to reply. Being related to such a man as Wickham was no joke to him.

  Chapter 26

  The Wickhams

  The Wickhams’ unsettled situation weighed heavily on many minds. By virtue of the immediate proximity of the problem, the Bingleys’ need for a solution was perhaps most pressing, but the Darcys felt the burden nonetheless. Their histories were too intertwined, the current connection too binding, to be dismissed. And past events draped an ominous shadow over the present state of affairs.

  As the son of the former steward of the estate, Mr. Wickham had grown up at Pemberley and known Mr. Darcy from boyhood. He developed into a handsome young man with charm, pleasing manners, and ready conversation – attributes which served him well in the absence of other virtues, and referred him to society better than his station would have otherwise permitted. By such means, George Wickham had ingratiated himself with old Mr. Darcy, and, for his trouble, received a gentleman’s education and the recommendation for a valuable family living. Had his nature and inclination allowed, Mr. Wickham could have secured his future by making the church his profession, as his generous patron intended to the last.

  Wickham, however, denounced any interest in the church, and demanded a financial settlement instead – money which was soon squandered away. When the younger Mr. Darcy refused his request to have the living reinstated, Mr. Wickham plotted to take revenge and capture a fortune by eloping with Miss Georgiana, who was then but fifteen years of age. His scheme, which very nearly succeeded, was an evil for which he could never be forgiven.

  To all this, Wickham added the crimes of slander and running off with Lydia Bennet. Their marriage – which took place belatedly – went a long way toward restoring the Bennets’ good name, but failed to reform the basic nature of either of the principal parties. Their lives were constantly mismanaged, and their future looked precarious at best. Despite repeated efforts by the family to assist the couple, Mr. Wickham persisted in seeing himself as ill-used and laying the blame for all his misfortunes at Mr. Darcy’s feet.

  With this history in view, concern over the existing situation soon cast a pall on daily life at Pemberley. Darcy’s good humor steadily diminished in proportion to the time he spent grappling for a solution to the dilemma and finding none. He fell into dark moods, brooding and riding out at odd hours to clear his head.

  Darcy never named his trouble, yet Elizabeth knew it was called Wickham. And although no immediate threat seemed to warrant her husband’s torturous turn of mind, past experience taught that uneasiness over Wickham usually proved justified. That such a man should have the power to torment one so honorable caused Elizabeth great consternation, and she once again sincerely regretted the course of events that had brought the miscreant into their family in the first place.

  A conspicuous reminder of how that unhappy development had come to pass presented itself at Pemberley late one morning in the form of Lydia Wickham. Though not entirely delighted to see her waiting in the front hall, Elizabeth was at least prepared for her sister’s visit, having anticipated its likelihood for days.

  “Well then, Lizzy, are you not at
least a little bit pleased to see me?” Lydia asked gaily.

  “Of course. I am always glad to see one of my sisters, and Kitty will be thrilled you are come. She has been longing for you ever since we returned from the south.”

  “I daresay if she were so eager to see me, she could easily have come to Heatheridge before this. But no matter.”

  Unlike her husband, Lydia had no penchant for dwelling upon perceived slights. Whereas Mr. Wickham was known for causing harm by deliberate plan, Mrs. Wickham was far more prone to injure by lack of thought and careless disregard for consequences. Indeed, so infrequently did her mind turn to any kind of serious reflection that she was generally insensible of the wrongdoings and bad manners of all persons, including herself.

  Elizabeth led Lydia to the drawing room and bade her sit.

  “Good lord, Lizzy, how you have grown! I can scarce believe that you will soon be a mother. First Jane, now you, and here am I, the one earliest married with no children at all. What a good joke! I do not envy you in the least. Can you imagine me having to care for an ill-tempered infant? I am sure you would say that I can hardly care for myself, and you would be right. So it is exceedingly lucky that Wickham and I are childless. Would not you agree?”

  “If that is how you feel about children, Lydia, then yes, I am glad for your good fortune in having none. One does not always get one’s wish in the matter.”

  “Oh, it is all very well for you and Jane, with fine houses and servants to do everything. You need not lift a finger yourself if you had rather not. But how should we manage? We could not afford a nursemaid, and I am sure I could never put up with doing the job myself. How tiresome I should find it to be always wiping noses and carting a toddler about on my hip as I have seen other women do. And the noise! I declare, the sound of the twins crying, both at the same time, is quite enough to drive me to distraction. I cannot comprehend how Jane and Bingley bear it. Yet they seem not to mind it at all.”