by Kay Mares
“The man became desperate after losing his fortune. Gunther could never replace the money Pierce lost on the shady deals Gunther invested in. Pierce’s desperation led him to a very dark place, one which included murder. Fitzwilliam,” Henry begins as Darcy’s left brow shoots up at Henry’s proper use of his name. “I owe you an apology. I should never have lost my temper with you when I found out about Wickham testifying at the trial. Worse, I abandoned you during a trying time. I am profoundly sorry.”
“Henry, there is no need to apologize. I understand that you acted out of fear. Fear for me and the future. Wickham had given you scant reason to believe that he would act in an honorable manner. I appreciate all you have done for me, including the intelligence you gained from your former military connections.”
“You are all that is magnanimous and charitable.” Henry wants to continue, but Darcy interrupts him.
“Henry, you have finally concluded that I am the superior man. Thank you for the accolades.” Darcy has the small upturn to his mouth indicating his jesting.
“Pompous and incorrigible is more like it.” Henry grunts at his smirking cousin.
“Admittedly, there were times when I questioned my wisdom in allowing Wickham his freedom those three years ago. I even began to agree with you, and I too feared that I had condemned myself.” Darcy has become serious once more.
“Instead, Fitz, you saved yourself. Never would I have believed that your actions then would result in your salvation now.” Henry slides an object across the desk as Darcy concurs with his statement.
“What is this?” Darcy asks then narrows his eyes as he recognizes the object, “oh for the love of God! Unbelievable! How on earth did you find this infernal thing?” Darcy rolls his eyes as Henry grins broadly.
“You thanked me for using my connections, and one of the things they did was to return this watch to your possession. I am aware of how fond you are of this particular watch and Jonesy will be pleased you have it once more.”
The sardonic grunt Darcy gives amuses Henry further. “I have changed my mind. I do not accept your apology, Henry.”
“When do you accept anything, Fitz? I will take my leave from you and return to my townhouse. After a day or so, I plan to return to Kent. What will you do?”
“I am going to speak to Elizabeth, and we will make plans to return to Pemberley, but first, I have decided that we must stay in London for some time to squelch any rumors.” Henry understands Darcy’s concern. Once Henry has departed for the night, Darcy makes his way to the private quarters where his wife awaits. Elizabeth is curled up in her favorite chair by the window in the joint sitting room. Her long hair is down, and she has brushed it out. It fans over her shoulders and some trails down her back. She searches Darcy’s face as he enters the room, and seeing that Darcy does not appear to be tense, Elizabeth relaxes and smiles at him.
“Henry told me more about Gunther and Pierce’s roles in this debacle. Fortunately, I will not be required to testify nor attend as Pierce has told all of his secrets to spare his own hide. However, that will not matter, as Pierce murdered Wickham in cold blood. Henry feels that Pierce will hang. Also, those who attacked me are to be sent to America and are never to return. For our family and us, it is over; the whole ordeal is over.” Darcy walks over to the small sidebar where he pours himself a small snifter of brandy. As he swirls the liquid in the glass, Elizabeth speaks.
“Then we will make plans to return to Pemberley in the next day or so?” Elizabeth asks eagerly.
“No, we do not. The Darcys will be staying in London.”
“I do not understand. Why do you wish to stay? Are you not anxious to return to Pemberley and oversee the fall harvest?”
Darcy smiles as he can easily comprehend his wife’s confusion and her insights are correct; he would like nothing better than to return to the peace and tranquility found only at Pemberley.
“We must stay. After all which has transpired, it is important for us to be seen in Town. Rumors and speculation will be put to rest, and it will not appear as if I am afraid or unwilling to be seen in the public eye. It is the way of my world, our world, Elizabeth. So with this thought in mind, I have already decided that we will take the children on a picnic. In addition, I plan to show you one of the steam engines which is to be utilized on the new tramway. Also, I plan to procure a couple more mastiffs to replace the dogs we lost.” Darcy becomes quiet as the unsettling events of this summer replay through his mind.
Elizabeth senses his turmoil and seeks to distract him from his sober thoughts. “Fitzwilliam, I would be delighted to partake in a picnic with you and the children. The idea of viewing one of the steam engines is most intriguing. Do you have any other plans for us?”
“I thought to attend a symphony performance as well. Often, there are pieces performed which one does not always have the pleasure of hearing.” Darcy stretches and starts to remove his jackets and cravat. “I must admit to an extreme amount of fatigue.” Next, come the boots and Darcy grunts as he bends to remove them. “Henry apologized for his outburst here earlier when he first found out that Wickham was coming to testify. He admitted that when I forgave Wickham all that time ago, that I was not saving Wickham, but rather, I saved myself. It is staggering to think that without Wickham, proving my innocence would have been much more difficult. Who would have thought?”
Darcy drains the last of his drink from the glass then holds out his hand to Elizabeth so they may both claim their bed. Elizabeth does not fall asleep as easily as her emotionally drained spouse who is now slumbering deeply. Some of his hair scatters over his brow, and the tense lines which have been present on his face are finally starting to ease. While she understands and accepts his reserve when amongst others, Elizabeth can see how once more his taciturn nature has led others to misjudge him. She settles down farther into the bed and sleep overtakes her. The next morning, her spouse has already awakened early and left her a note explaining his absence. Elizabeth laughs as she reads the short love note and spies the crude stick figures at the bottom of the page. Darcy is with his boys.
Elizabeth finds him in a room near the boys’ quarters where the children’s toys are kept. Happy chatter and light laughter float down the hallway. Once inside of the room, Elizabeth sees more ridiculous drawings Darcy has done to entertain the boys and now all three are busily building a tower with wooden blocks just as Darcy had so many years ago with his grandfather. The nanny brings in Ester and Elizabeth sits down on a settee with the baby to watch the antics of her men.
“Can we build it higher, Papa?” Bennet asks with his shining eyes searching his father’s face.
“We can try, Son.” Before Bennet or Darcy can place another block, David, in a burst of energy tries to put a block on the top of the tower, but instead causes the whole pile to tip and crash down. Elizabeth purses her lips to keep the laughter in check as she witnesses an immature imitation of the scowl Darcy gives, ripple across young Bennet’s face. Darcy’s blue eyes are bright with merriment as Bennet tries to rebuild the tower while warning his brother about being more careful.
“Papa, you keep David from using the blocks while I stack.” A very serious young man directs as his parents giggle.
“Were you so serious as a boy, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth teases.
“Absolutely. In order to achieve any goal, Elizabeth, one must remain focused and determined regardless of any setbacks.” Darcy intones gravely, but Elizabeth is not fooled as she sees his upturned mouth. “Hard work and dedication produce results.”
“And ruined shirts, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth purrs at him as he laughs once more. Elizabeth is heartened to see a return of Darcy’s humor and jesting. He is starting to put the dark summer behind him.
Later in the day after a lunch with the children, Darcy and Elizabeth take a carriage ride to see the steam engines near one of the warehouses. Upon their arrival at the rail yards, Elizabeth is introduced to some of the men who manage the massive machines. O
ne gentleman, Mr. Fusco, an Italian gentleman who has his home in London and has a knack for machinery, greets Elizabeth but he is not convinced a lady should be around any sort of technology. The particular engine the Darcys are to inspect has been giving the men fits as it refuses to function properly. Mr. Fusco bounds off after the greeting to shout orders to the workers in a mixture of Italian and English as the engine begins to chug once more. Darcy approaches with Elizabeth on his arm then releases her as he begins to talk to the agitated man. Elizabeth is fascinated by the moving parts and sounds of the engine, and just as she reaches out to lightly touch one of the wheels, the persnickety engine sputters and dies once more.
“Wassa matter wid dis ting? Women and machinery, no good together, I tell you, Darcee.” Mr. Fusco states then once more rushes off to direct more men to check various parts.
“I did nothing wrong!” An indignant Elizabeth proclaims.
“Women and machinery do not mix, Mrs. Darcy.” Darcy snickers as Elizabeth narrows her eyes at her amused spouse.
“Incorrigible.”
The following day finds the family enjoying the fair weather and the promised picnic. The boys are happily playing with a ball in the grass while Darcy holds a contented Ester on his lap. Darcy makes faces for the baby and grins along with her as she smiles a wide, toothless grin. The servants have packed a particularly delicious feast in the baskets, and the family is at ease. Some acquaintances have stopped by periodically to offer their support and thankfulness that the trial ended favorably. Darcy takes the interruptions in stride. Jonesy has reported a return to almost full capacity in business partners and offers so Darcy’s instincts to stay in London are paying off.
Another evening has the Darcys along with Georgiana and Matthew at the symphony. Tonight’s concert will prove to be most interesting.
“We will see tonight, of all things, a trombone choir,” Darcy informs the others.
“I have never heard of such a thing,” Elizabeth exclaims.
“They are mostly comprised of four trombones along with a bass voice. However, Francois Rene Gebauer published six trombone trios of which three are more well-known arrangments, and they were written to be used at the newly formed Paris Conservatory as teaching pieces. Two which we will hear tonight are masterpieces by Heinrich Schutz. They are ‘Filimi, Absalon’ and ‘Attendite, popule meus.’ These are the pieces which use four trombones along with the bass singer.” Darcy continues with his teaching.
As promised, the selections are moving and interesting. One very emotional and startling moment occurs for Darcy when the piece, ‘Absalon, fili mi’ is performed and the discussion about who the composer of the piece may be along with the occasion for which the piece was written is presented. The most unnerving comment comes when the Biblical passages the piece may be referencing are revealed along with the Latin translation which some argue means to protect while others speculate the translation means that someone wished to die in place of another. Either way, Wickham’s last words play in Darcy’s mind as Elizabeth grasps his hand and brings it to her cheek in a soft caress. Other pieces are played as well and the evening concludes with everyone pronouncing themselves pleased. After another week, Darcy decides the family will make its way back to Pemberley for the winter. He is satisfied that the drama which has engulfed him is lifted, his servants can go about without hassle, and most people have ceased questioning him about the incident. Darcy is beginning to relax once more, and he is anxious to return to his beloved estate.
Chapter 14
After biding the remaining friends and family farewell, the Darcy carriages depart for Pemberley. The beginning of the trip has Darcy entertaining the boys and cuddling his daughter. After a few hours of play, the children have drifted off to sleep as the carriage gently rolls down the road. Dry conditions have made for easy travel. Elizabeth and Darcy are silent, mulling over their tumultuous summer, but soon Darcy allows himself the rare occurrence of falling asleep himself. Elizabeth studies him as he slumbers with one boy each nestled on either side of him as they too, nap. Her husband is a complex man, often difficult to understand because he does not trust easily but one who has a heart of gold.
His position in life, his rank and lineage have caused others to envy him and covet what he has. Jealousy and greed have led to confrontations in the past but never to the level of this past summer. Two men are dead, and another will be hung, all over the love of money. Wickham had come to peace with his past and embraced his future, but unfortunately, he was cut down before he could claim his own place in the world. Lydia is despondent over his death, and she will now reside at Longbourn where Wickham is buried.
Darcy tried to apologize to Elizabeth for the sorrow and distress she endured over the last few months, but Elizabeth would not allow him to take on such misplaced guilt. For better or for worse she had gently reminded him. Darcy’s dear mother once said of her son that keeping him happy would be a daunting task, but the rewards would be great. Elizabeth is pleased and proud that she is the one woman who can accomplish that goal. Soon Darcy stretches and smiles a lazy grin as he awakens. His hair is out of place, and his clothing is rumbled, but to Elizabeth, he is the most handsome man in the world. The family spends one night at an inn, then the next day, they finally are rolling to a stop before Pemberley house.
Some days after returning to Pemberley, Darcy returns from his tenant rounds, and he is wet and muddy with torn and soiled garments. Despite his bedraggled appearance, Darcy’s face is beaming, his smile is large and his eyes luminous. A curious wife and exasperated valet greet him.
“Mr. Darcy, Sir! Your clothing is ruined. That beautiful new shirt, along with your cravat and coat is beyond saving!” Exclaims Barnabas upon inspection of his Master.
“Indeed.” States a still smiling Darcy at the agitated man.
“Mr. Darcy, would you care to explain your condition to me? But first, I must know, are you injured in any manner?” Elizabeth has her brows raised and lips puckered.
“I am not in any way injured,” an excited Darcy starts. “There was a work wagon stuck in the goo in the stream, and the horses were unable to pull it out. I ordered the men to hitch the second team of horses to the mired wagon to haul it out. The stress of the animals pulling on the wagon caused the wooden axle to break. Four men took a large branch and used it to lift the corner of the wagon from the water while the horses pulled it to the bank where we repaired the axle.”
Darcy pauses as Barnabas rolls his eyes for the man already knows that Darcy did not merely stand by and issue orders. “I will have a bath drawn and clean clothing ready for you, Sir.” Barnabas leaves to ready his Master’s garments, but Elizabeth is questioning Darcy further.
“Tell me, Mr. Darcy, not including yourself, how many men were in the water and mud, lifting the wagon up?” Toe-tapping punctuates her words.
“Three! Wait until Barnabas sees the condition of these Hessian boots. Totally trashed!” Darcy’s grin is even larger as he gives his wife a soggy kiss and goes above to his quarters to bathe and change. Elizabeth smiles as well. Her husband is never more content than when he is at Pemberley and involved directly with any issue or emergency which may occur. Her husband always will be a kind and concerned man, not the cold, hard man too many people assume he is.
Days turn into weeks, and soon the routine of overseeing the tenants and the harvests keeps Darcy occupied. His laughter is easy and quick along with his humor and wit. Henry and Anne have stopped in for a visit before the long Derbyshire winter sets in and the men embark on a serious day of fishing. Anne and Elizabeth take a stroll in one of the gardens as Henry and Darcy return from their fishing expedition. Remarkably, Darcy is pristine, and his garments are not ruined. However, his face holds a dour look. Henry is beaming as he holds up a full stringer of fish.
“Henry, it appears you have had quite a productive day of fishing. Your catch is most impressive.” Anne compliments Henry as he turns the fish about so all can admire
them.
“I believe the kitchen is prepared to clean and cook the fish for our evening meal tonight,” Elizabeth informs them as she faces Darcy to ask after his catch. “Fitzwilliam, do you have any fish to add to the meal?”
Henry is cheekily grinning as Darcy opens the small woven fish basket he has with him. Elizabeth peers inside to see one rather large fish but with a suspicious hole in its side.
“Oh, my.” Elizabeth states, clearly surprised.
“We would have caught more fish, but someone became incensed that he was not having any luck, so he pulled out his pistol and shot that massive fish you see. Scared the rest of the fish away from the area, thus effectively ending the fishing, so we came back to the house.”
“Mr. Darcy, is there any truth to this tale?”
“Yes, indeed. The fish were no longer biting, so we returned.” Darcy upturns his mouth as he winks at Elizabeth. Henry gives Anne a knowing look as they make their way back to the manor as well. The evening meal of fish is delicious and filling. After a few weeks, Henry and Anne have returned to their home and Darcy is relishing his time at Pemberley. The harvests are mostly in, and the fall colors are adorning the trees. Darcy has taken numerous rides on Tempest, and just as he had hoped during the trying times in London, he and Tempest have once more conquered the hill near the cattle barn. Darcy is eagerly telling Elizabeth about his thrilling ride.
“Elizabeth, I swear, Tempest is even faster than he was before our trip to London. Why he tore up that hill as if it was not even there. As we crested the hill, Tempest was not even winded.” Elizabeth smiles as she notes Darcy’s bright, shining eyes, but then he sobers ever so slightly.
“I had hoped that, perhaps, you would ride along with me to see the actual feat. I know you miss Zephyr and I would be most pleased to find you a suitable replacement mount.”
“Fitzwilliam, it is very likely that I will not be doing any riding,” Elizabeth tells him.