by Wells, Linda
“What is this?” He wondered and turning it over, he was stunned to see that it was addressed to him. “For me? How long has this sat here? At least five years, obviously, but …”
“Will? What is wrong?” Elizabeth asked from the doorway.
“I found a letter.” He looked up and his surprise was clear. “This is Father’s handwriting.”
“Oh my! What a wonderful surprise!” She joined him and noticed the volume in his lap. “Is this the book full of memorable anecdotes from the generations of Darcys? Perhaps this is one of your father’s fond memories and he wanted you to be sure that you saw it?”
“I am sure that you are correct, I wonder what it could be?”
“You will never know if you just sit there staring!” Elizabeth said impatiently. Darcy’s thumb ran over the seal and turning his hand, he fitted his father’s ring over the design stamped into the wax. “A perfect fit.” He looked to her. “I hate to break it.”
She sighed at her sentimental husband. “Perhaps if you warmed a blade you could slip it in beneath the wax? You keep that pocket knife handy so that you are always prepared to collect some memento from a favourite lady.” She tilted her head and raised her brow.
“Or craft a boat? How do you think of such things?” Laughing, he stood and kissed her forehead. “I am being foolish, I have the same ring; I can always reseal it if necessary.” They moved to sit together on the sofa and carefully, he opened the envelope and unfolded the sheets.
17 May, 1806
Pemberley
Dear Fitzwilliam,
At this moment you are somewhere in Scotland, hopefully standing on the bank of a stream blissfully casting your line and catching a trout the size of small child. I wish that I was with you, but it is important for you to do this travelling on your own and to understand yourself. You need to find out what sort of a man you are and rely upon your wits, and most importantly, to have a sense of independence from me. I will not always be here to guide you, although I pray that I will not be leaving you for a very long time.
“He wrote this five months before he died.” Darcy said softly and with a sigh, kissed Elizabeth’s cheek.
All of my wishes are fine things, but the truth of it is that I have a weak heart. The physician has pressed his ear to my chest and says that its rhythm is not right. There are times when I see your mother sitting at the foot of my bed, and I take that as a sign that my time may be approaching. So I have spent these months while you were away reflecting upon my life, and preparing for Pemberley’s future.
Silently, Darcy read the letter through. “Father.” He said softly and setting the pages down, turned his head to look out of the window.
Elizabeth watched him draw a breath and raise his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. She placed her hand over the one that held the letter.
“Did you know that his marriage was arranged? Pemberley had several difficult seasons and Mother’s dowry restored the estate?”
“No. Does he speak of that in his letter?”
“No.” He turned back to her and smiled sadly. “No … he says nothing of marriage, nothing of his desire that I marry Anne, nothing of changing the entailment, although that was surely in his mind as he wrote this. He was in London soon after this was written. Uncle told me that he was going to speak of his desire that I marry Anne the day that he died. He would not have left such direction in a book that I may or may not find in time …”
Concerned, she brushed her fingers through his hair. “What is wrong? What does he say?”
Sighing, he picked up the pages and read aloud, “So many stories in this book speak of achievement and pride. I wish to write of something I think is far more valuable. I want to write of my mistakes, and my hopes to make amends.” He saw her concern and feeling her grip tighten, he continued on. “I rewarded the son of a man I trusted and appreciated. Where it was truly a valued gift for this man, his son, I am afraid, has come to look at my largess as a right. I have rewarded him for achieving nothing and in doing so; his expectations have become ones of entitlement.”
“Wickham.” Elizabeth whispered. “So your father was beginning to understand what he had created in him.”
“And I suspect that he left him the living thinking that should satisfy this person he created. He may even have thought he had time to right his wrongs with him, and push him to prepare for his eventual position at Kympton. But he died before he could begin and I …”
“You were left angry with his behaviour and simply wished him away.”
“And look what came of it. Perhaps I should have forced him to accept the living instead of granting his demand for the money instead.”
“I think that your father’s words here absolve you of any guilt you carry, Will. He realizes what he did wrong. You did not create the problem.” She kissed him and touched the pages. “What else does he say?”
Darcy held her eyes for a moment and then turned back to the pages. “He refers to Uncle Harding.” Clearing his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reading again, “Entitlement is something that a first son should feel, I did, your Uncle Matlock certainly did, as does his son. I have only recently begun to appreciate you, Fitzwilliam. Yes, you are proud, and you are aware of who you are and your place in the world, but never have I seen you behave as a man who expects to be rewarded simply for being born.”
“Albert.”
“Yes.” Darcy nodded and continued, “I have spent my life feeling entitled to my position and filled with the opinions of my father. I regarded his judgement as infallible and thereby failed a man who has done nothing but work endlessly to prove himself worthy of his name. Because of my failure to support him when he needed me the most, I have seen him sink and rise from near madness more times than I care to say.”
“Oh, Will …” Elizabeth whispered.
“And so I will do my best to care for Pemberley and my family, remembering what I have done and what I have learned. My charge to you Son is to avoid my mistakes. Listen to opinion and advice, but follow your mind and your heart. ‘For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required: and to whom men have committed much, of him they will ask the more.’”
“He is very disappointed in himself.” Elizabeth tugged the pages from Darcy’s hand and read over the letter. “And he is angry that he has lost his faith in your uncle, despite his achievements.”
“I do not believe he ever had faith in him. He saw Uncle through his father’s eyes rather than his own, and he protected his own family to the exclusion of others, including his own brother. I can see Uncle’s fury over being removed from the entailment now. It was another slap in the face to him of not being good enough to be a Darcy.”
“But that is not why your father did it?”
“I do not know.” Darcy shrugged. “I do not know, there are too many arguments, too many opinions, but I can see without a doubt how it would drive a man who has been slighted his entire life over the edge.”
“What are you implying? Your Uncle has done nothing, has he?” Elizabeth’s brow creased and she looked at him worriedly. “He seems quite well, saddened over the situation, but he seemed to have new life breathed into him when I saw him holding Hope.” She nudged him and he started from his fixed stare at the Pemberley landscape mounted over the fireplace. “Will?”
“Oh … yes, dear. Yes, he seems quite well now, much improved from how he once was, as does Wickham. What miracles Hope is wreaking upon the men in her life.” Folding the letter, he patted her leg and got to his feet to stuff the letter inside of the book. He walked to the bookshelf and shoved it into place before turning to her. “Well now, what were we going to do?”
“I was under the impression that you and I were going to make use of that rug.” She nodded at the bearskin.
“Oh, of course, shall we?” He tugged at his neck cloth.
“No. I am not going to fall down on that rug to have you attempt to love me when your mind
is occupied and your desire is nonexistent.” She stood and walked up to him. “Do you need to be alone?”
Surprised, he studied her. “I … Why would you think that?”
“Do you want to dwell upon what your father wrote? I think that his words were perfectly clear. He said to reward where it is deserved, aid not only your own, but those who surround you, and to love with a clear mind and open heart, even if the answer must sometimes be no.”
“Is that what he said?” Darcy smiled a little and reached up to hold her jaw and caress her cheek with his thumb.
“That is my interpretation and may I say that you are already fulfilling all of those things? Just as he said, he had begun to appreciate all of those qualities in you. Perhaps that is why he recognized the absence of them in himself.”
Darcy’s sigh was long. “I was a boy then.”
“You were a man of two and twenty.” She reminded him. “Your personality was formed.” He smiled and said nothing. “I will add one more charge to you.”
“Of course. I am all anticipation.”
“Are you certain?” She lifted her chin and his hand moved to her throat. “I will not tell you unless you promise to take it seriously.”
“I dare not ignore anything you tell me, Elizabeth, I do so at my peril.” His smile was a little less sad.
“Very well, then. Prepare yourself.”
Now he laughed. “I am, trust me. Please impart your twenty years of wisdom upon me.”
“Nearly one and twenty …” She reminded him.
“I concede, Madam. Your vast, superior, and wise advice.”
“That you may keep or ignore …”
Darcy lifted both hands to heaven. “Tell me!”
“Let it go.” Elizabeth said simply and took his face in her hands. “Whatever it is, whatever is pressing you, whatever that letter has inspired in your far too active mind … let it go.”
He rested his hands on her shoulders, “It is difficult.”
“If it was not, you would not be half the man your father determined you to be.” Elizabeth’s hands dropped and she held his waist. “Answer me this, what good comes of pursuing your thoughts, whatever they may be? Any good, to you, to Pemberley?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Well then?” She cocked her head.
“Do you have any idea at all what I am thinking?”
“Honestly? No. And I will not press you to tell me.”
Darcy stared into her eyes and biting his lip, let go of her shoulders and walked back to the bookshelf. He took down the history and leafed through until he found the letter, and walking over to the fireplace took the tinderbox and knelt before the grate. Elizabeth joined him and watched him strike a spark and set the note on fire.
“Why did you do that?”
“So I would not read it again, and dwell upon his words.” He watched it burn to ash. “I am letting it go.” When he turned back to look at her she was smiling. “You are happy with me.”
“What shall we do now?” Elizabeth said softly.
“Ah, now that rug looks more inviting to you, does it?” He drew a long breath and looked back to the see the wax seal burning. Setting down the tinderbox, he took her hand and they rose to their feet. “I think that we need something far more symbolic to mark this moment.”
“If only I knew what this moment signified.” She laughed and he chuckled. “What do you suggest?”
“Let us go swimming.”
“You said that it was too cold!”
“Ahhh but just imagine how I will warm you?”
“I have seen your assets when cold, Fitzwilliam.”
“And you shall warm me.”
“In cold water?”
“A great deal of rubbing will be required.” His eyes twinkled. “No? Shall we wait for July, when we have guests here?” Her eyes widened. “Or at Matlock when we attend the wedding? There will be any number of chances to be seen …”
“You are terrible!”
“August then? Oh, September when Miss Bingley is here! She may come upon us while riding and be witness to just how very fine your eyes are!”
“Fitzwilliam Darcy!”
“What is it, love?”
“I will not have Miss Bingley see you unclothed!”
“Me?” He laughed. “Very well. I suppose that the water will be too cool again then.”
“And I will not have her see you unclothed and not displayed at your very best.” Elizabeth whispered wickedly.
“Elizabeth Darcy!” He wrapped his arms tightly around her and rested his chin on top of her head. After several moments of silence, he spoke gently, “Thank you, dearest.”
“Are you well?” She asked and listened gratefully to the steady, strong, beat of his heart.
Darcy held her as closely as he could. “I will be.”
“I BELIEVE THAT HE KNOWS.” Harding said to Richard as the two men rode slowly over the grounds of Sommerwald.
“I believe that he suspects … but what that is, I could not say.” Richard looked ahead and watched the shepherds moving the flocks of sheep from one pasture to another. “He is persistent and he is not a fool.”
“But there is no way to discover all, unless one of us talked. Wickham had his golden opportunity, he could have exposed me and likely had a dream fulfilled in seeing my dispatch at Darcy’s hands.”
Richard laughed shortly, “Darcy would not have taken your life in that way. There are far more effective ways to kill you, more satisfying ones to his way of thinking. He would strike where it hurts. He would ban you from Pemberley. He would wash his hands of you. He would take Hope away.”
“That would kill Susan.”
“And you, I suspect.” Richard looked over to the shaken man. “So the fact that so much time has passed since you all met Wickham and the child remains in your collective arms, I think would indicate that whatever my cousin has concluded is enough in your favour that he is stepping away.”
“Good Lord.” Harding murmured. “My life is left dangling.”
“He has too many pieces of the puzzle not to figure some sort of connection.” Richard shrugged. “I promise you, I will not help him along. I do not want him to know. But I do enjoy you dangling. I enjoy that greatly”
“There is no need to taunt me, Colonel.”
Richard laughed. “That is the first hint of the Judge Darcy I remember appearing in a long time.”
“That man is dead.” Harding said grimly. “Dead, gone, buried …”
“Good.”
“Colonel!”
Both men swung their heads and Richard beamed. “Sophie!” Instantly he urged his mount to move and he quickly joined her. “This is a great surprise! How did you know to come here?”
“You told me …” She began and noticed him glancing at Stephen, who was just arriving. “You told me that this was a favourite location and I thought I would come and see why.”
“Why is it?” Stephen looked around. “It is no different from every other pasture for miles around.”
“Not so.” Richard said quickly, “This resembles closely the pasture at Gladney. I am learning by observing. Judge Darcy, how did you come to rise to your position? You could probably impart some valuable information to this young lawyer.” The two men exchanged looks.
“I would be glad to. My son has heard enough of my advice, it will be a pleasure to offer my guidance to you, Mr. Kelly.” Harding noticed the young man looking at his sister who was looking wistfully at Richard. “What say the two of us maintain a respectable distance to the engaged couple and allow them a pleasant visit, eh?”
“Well …” Stephen said doubtfully.
“Excellent!” Not waiting another moment, Richard kicked his horse. “Come along, Sophie! Keep up!”
“Hey!” Stephen cried uselessly as his sister gleefully took off after her betrothed.
Harding grabbed Stephen’s reins to stop him from following. “As long as we can see them, they ar
e fine. Let them alone.”
Richard looked behind him and slowed. “They are not giving chase!”
Sophie drew up with her panting pony and laughed. “Stephen wants to.”
“Stephen is a pain in the …” Richard noticed her raised brow. “Neck.”
“That is not what you intended to say.”
“No, but it is a reasonable substitute.” His smiled as he took her in. “You are a picture sitting on that pony!”
Sophie laughed. “Oh my, I wonder what compliments I can expect of you in the future? Instead of complimenting my eyes or my skin, you will remark on my horsemanship or my skill with Whist.”
“Probably.” He shrugged and looked down at his gloves holding his reins. “As long as you understand the sentiment …”
“I do, Richard, I do. I understand that flowery prose does not fall easily from your tongue.”
“No, I am rather straightforward. I … look forward to waking up … a married man.” He saw a blush begin creeping up her throat and gripped his reins tighter. “I do.”
“Oh my.”
“Are you well?”
“Oh, I was the recipient of tutoring from Mother last night …” Richard’s brow creased and Sophie’s blush deepened. “Enough of this … tell me of your mother.”
“A harridan with a touch of compassion.” Sophie stared. “She is. And she will test you. After all, you are probably going to assume her position one day. When we move into Gladney, you will have the joy of months under her tutelage. Now I ask you, would you prefer your mother or mine?” Richard grinned. “A difficult choice?”