Pemberley

by Kirsten Bij't Vuur

  In the end, it took them a week and a half to come up with a letter that satisfied both of them in content, and the tone of which comprised a reasonable compromise between entreaty and self-respect. Elizabeth had been much milder than Darcy himself, probably because of what she said, she really didn't care what aunt Catherine thought of her, so she couldn't feel humiliated by anything they wrote. She just wanted results, to gain hold of the missing letters.

  Chapter 12

  And so March made way for April, when their snug little family circle would be expanded with a mishmash of relatives, uncle Spencer, Colonel

  Fitzwilliam, Mr and Mrs Bennet bringing Maria, Mr and Mrs Gardiner with their four children, and Jane and Bingley. Everything in the house had been readied, plenty of bedrooms had been prepared, a sitting room had been converted to a children's paradise with toys and suitable books. That way the nursery maid wouldn't have to keep the youngsters quiet all the time, she could merely take them to their own play room where no-one would be bothered by their noise.

  Elizabeth had insisted on sending for a selection of crayons and beautiful papers, to be stored safely on a top shelf to offer her aunt's nursery maid some pleasure for herself when her charges were asleep or with their parents.

  Having realised that art was taken as seriously or even more seriously among the lower classes, Darcy was proud of his wife to have thought of helping a budding talent along, even if it might only offer the maid a few hours of solitary leisure. Renowned artists generally did not come from the ranks of household staff, and were certainly never female, but of course that wouldn't stop Elizabeth.

  With everything readied for their visitors, Darcy was a bit disappointed to find the English weather threatening to ruin their month of outdoors entertainment. Though the gentlemen were used to storm and rain in their fall hunts, Darcy had been looking forward so much to showing his relatives and friends how good a rider Elizabeth was, and he had hoped Fielding and Georgie would agree to join them for some of the calmer outings, they had come along so beautifully on their more placid horses. But now, a typical April storm was raging across the countryside, tearing at the young leaves of the trees, whipping a deluge of sleet-like rain against the window panes of his study as if winter was trying to take back the country.

  Such miserable weather could not last for long, could it? Their guests would arrive in another week, and though April was often capricious up in the north, with even a cover of snow far from unlikely, better they had the atrocious weather now than next week.

  A knock on his door broke his negative thoughts, and at his request to come in his butler appeared.

  'There is someone to see you, master.'

  Darcy was stunned. Travelling in this weather? It must be important!

  'Did he leave his name? Was it an express? He must have been soaked!'

  'He did indeed look somewhat bedraggled, sir. I asked him to come out of the rain and let someone see to his horse but he said he'd see you first to be

  certain of his welcome. He said his name was George, master, nothing more.'

  George? Not sure of his welcome? If it was Wickham he was right to expect not being welcome at Pemberley. But maybe something was amiss with Lydia.

  'Is he an army man, Stokes? Medium height, curly hair, weathered face but still tolerably handsome?'

  If so, Elizabeth should come, too, for several reasons.

  'No, sir, this is unmistakably a gentleman, though very bedraggled, and rather on the pudgy side, excusing my bluntness.'

  A fat gentleman of his acquaintance called George, probably someone he knew by his family name only, an eldest son or he'd be able to match the Christian name with a face.

  'Well, I'll find out soon enough who it is, better see to him quickly for he will be getting wetter and colder by the minute. You arrange for his horse to be taken to the stables, I cannot think of anyone I'd leave outside in this weather, not even George Wickham. Thank you, Stokes.'

  The butler bowed as Darcy hurried downstairs to the front door. As he opened it and recognised the gentleman standing there, indeed soaked through but in an excellent humour nonetheless, Darcy realised there was one other man besides Wickham, coincidentally going by the same Christian name, that he would prefer not to allow into his home. But he also realised he could not possibly refuse this George entrance, and the man himself knew it.

  The doubt he'd expressed had been solely for the sake of propriety.

  'Why don't you come in quickly, Your Highness, you must be soaked through. There's Peter already to take your horse, he will take excellent care of your animal, dry it down and give it a good feed. Do you have any attendants?'

  He should have at least two courtiers with him, plus maybe four guards? And a personal servant or two? They were probably waiting just out of view, to give the impression His Highness was truly offering Darcy a choice to either allow them in or send them on. Fortunately they had plenty of excellent spare rooms ready for use, good enough for any court noble, and several functional rooms in the servants' quarter for the prince's attendants and his guards.

  But the Heir Presumptive did not signal to his escort to come into view, he merely handed the reins of his magnificent golden horse, gelding or stallion Darcy couldn't see, to Peter, and removed a set of saddlebags from its back with practised ease. The bags themselves looked as well-worn and practical

  as the way he carried them inside.

  'I am of course required to travel with a suitable retinue, but I have dismissed them to a local inn in the hopes of finding a welcome under your roof myself, Mr Darcy.'

  He looked around the hall, and when his eyes found Stokes in the doorway, keeping a discrete distance but ready to take their visitor's coat, he addressed Darcy in a calm, quiet voice that was meant to reach no further than the two of them.

  'I was very serious when I expressed myself to your butler, Mr Darcy. You have the right to refuse your hospitality to me as much as you have to any other man. I am not here in an official capacity, but as a mere gentleman paying a visit to people he respects. I know I cannot be a welcome sight to you, my reputation is not flawless and you love your little lady very much.

  Please let me explain: for one long month your brother-in-law's compositions have haunted me day and night. Maria would not allow me to send for him, though I've bought myself a lovely piano on Mr Clementi's advice. I realise I am imposing on you by appearing on your doorstep unannounced, and if you are in any doubt over my presence in your family circle I will stay at the same inn as my entourage and pay a few visits to Mr Fielding to hear him play. I have to hear more, can you understand that?'

  Actually, Darcy could not, he'd had all the music he could wish for since the time Georgie was twelve or thirteen, but he could imagine Fielding's compositions haunting someone, and as his brother-in-law's patron he had to be polite and even forthcoming to his most influential admirer. Not to mention what Manners would do to him if he dared to bar the future king from his house. And to be sure, he did look a sad sight with his pleading expression, so different from the Crown Prince's reputed self-confidence.

  Still slightly reluctantly, Darcy offered, 'You are most welcome to stay here, Your Highness, and join our small circle for as long as you like. I'll have Stokes take you to our best room, do you need anything else? An attendant, dry garments of any kind?'

  'Thank you very much for the offer, Mr Darcy,' the rotund face was indeed thankful, 'but I do not want to impose on you any further. I will manage to put on some dry clothes myself, and then present myself to you and your family. I assure you I will respect your wife and just enjoy her delightful conversation, if I may please hear Mr Fielding play again.'

  'I am quite certain he will be eager to perform for you, I know the quiet of the

  country has allowed him to compose very constantly, and I am virtually certain he will not hesitate to let a true connoisseur hear his new work.'

  'Now I cannot wait. I will be entirely at your service
, please do not put yourselves out to accommodate me, I know I am imposing on you and you will hardly notice my presence.'

  Well, at least he had excellent manners, and he seemed nice enough. Darcy would try his utmost to be kind and trusting, though the last would be an almost impossible task.

  After bowing to his prince in acknowledgement of his politeness, instead of calling out or gesturing Stokes, Darcy went up to his butler in person and warned him quietly to treat their visitor with the utmost respect, and, if necessary, address him as Your Highness. His respect for his butler went up another notch when he could not see a single sign of surprise or awe in the man's expression, he must have been at the top of his class wherever butlers where schooled, such control. The only sign the man gave of his feelings was a quiet, 'Thank you for your warning, Mr Darcy.'

  As soon as Stokes had taken Prince George's soaked coat en saddle bags and led their guest towards the stairs, Darcy rang for Mrs Reynolds, asking her to have the cook prepare his best confectionery for dinner for a special guest, and make an extra effort for tea as well, then walked towards the drawing-room, lost in thought. They generally ate well, but most likely not up to the standards of a Royal. That couldn't be helped, though, there was no better chef than Pemberley's available within miles, and anyway, Darcy was not going to put himself out to please the Prince or they'd never get rid of him. Of course that wasn't true, the man had his duties and must have moved mountains to be able to ride four days through atrocious weather to hear the music that haunted him, but Darcy still suspected him of having an ulterior motive. No-one just let go of Elizabeth, Wickham hadn't, Fitzwilliam hadn't, and most importantly, Darcy himself hadn't been able to. The best Darcy and Elizabeth could hope for was that he'd keep his promise to respect her, though there was no way to enforce it.

  Fortunately everyone was in the drawing-room, gentle music coming from the Clementi now residing there, maybe they should try to find a place for the Zumpe during this month when they were expecting a lot of company. Or maybe for the duration of Georgie's and Fielding's residence.

  Elizabeth got up instantly and laid a hand on his arm.

  'Something's happened my love, I can see it. Do you want to tell us about it?'

  'I most certainly do, it's not exactly bad news, but not altogether good either.

  You have a very esteemed visitor, Fielding. He has come all the way from London, on horseback, and has left his entourage at a local inn.'

  'You are not serious! He's here? After a mere month? By himself?'

  Of course Elizabeth knew straight away.

  'I expected him to come, but this quickly?'

  'I know, my love, I know. It's indeed the Prince of Wales, all alone, he presented himself like any other unexpected visitor, dripping wet, holding his own horse, a magnificent creature by the way, Manners, excused himself for imposing on us. But he couldn't forget your music, Fielding, it haunted him, and he had to hear it again.'

  Darcy did not mention the prince's allusions to Elizabeth, he would tell her later. It was not dignified to discuss such matters in public.

  'He said he would join us here as soon as he had changed into something dry, he must be starving.'

  Now Elizabeth looked at him in earnest and asked, 'Do you want me to put on

  a dress? I've been wondering whether to wear a dress more often once our guests arrive, then change just before we go out, instead of wearing the split skirts all morning. This just forces my decision, and you have the last say.'

  He knew why, she was afraid his jealousy would cause his little problem to reappear to complicate things. But Darcy thought he'd conquered his despicable jealousy, and this would be the perfect time to test himself.

  Besides, he enjoyed showing off Elizabeth's independence and she did look fabulous in those split skirts and fitted blouses. Mrs Norman had made a good deal on the pattern with the local seamstress, the one who had made the blouses and Elizabeth's lovely coats. That talented lady expected to be able to sell quite a lot of the newfangled skirts to local women, and after Mrs Reynolds' mediation she had offered to buy the pattern for a decent sum. Of course she was able to sell half a dozen straight away, to Mrs Fielding and Mrs Manners, who were enjoying riding astride and planned to do a lot of it.

  Elizabeth had also ordered a few extras, the seamstress had made some improvements to the pattern which she wanted to profit from, and the tiny bit of weight she'd gained had stayed despite their rambling, riding, shooting and being very active in the bedroom, so she'd had several made to her new measures. She'd said, 'Maybe I'm merely growing up, maybe I'm indeed with child, but I do not feel any different. Do you see a difference in me?'

  Besides her being more beautiful and radiant than ever? No. But a month had almost passed, and if her moon time hadn't come by the time their guests arrived she had promised him she'd ask Jane what she should expect to feel if she were indeed with child.

  'You seem miles away, Fitzwilliam. Not having lewd thoughts, I hope?'

  If only she'd refrain from similar remarks in the company of the Prince! The older man had promised to keep his thoughts off Mrs Darcy, but no man could resist Elizabeth when she was being pert. Well, except maybe Will Collins, but that wasn't exactly a recommendation.

  'I am now. But they'll fade. You wear whatever you like, my love, I love to see you in split skirts, and I love what you have done with Barley. Can you imagine I was thinking of the improvements the seamstress made to those skirts?'

  'I think she did a marvellous job, my love, and the fit is so much better. You truly don't mind for the Prince of Wales, and your relatives, to see me in what in truth are trousers?'

  'I don't. I am proud of you, and I want them to see you ride, and shoot. And

  maybe you should have a short version of those undergarments made, it will be too warm for woollies soon.'

  'I already thought of that. I advised Anne and Georgiana to get some of the long ones, and Anne admitted she already had several of the short pairs, apparently Nick recommended them to keep her monthly padding in place.

  So I asked Mrs Reynolds to get me some, too, since keeping padding in place is very, very important and no-one will see them anyway.'

  Were they seriously talking about women's affairs in the drawing-room, while at that very same time the heir to the British throne was changing in their best guest room? He must have shown his thoughts for Elizabeth laughed heartily.

  'I think you are the best men around to not hide from these embarrassing intimate issues. You, and Nick, and Eric as well. And Anne says Simon and Frederick support her whenever Nick cannot while she is in such pain and bleeding. It matters, Fitzwilliam, a lot.'

  But even while she said that Elizabeth was very worried, hiding her feelings behind a merry laugh to not upset her beloved. The Prince of Wales in their very own house? She did not doubt the older man's self-control, he had plenty of willing women to choose from and he was spoiled but not heartless, and undeniably a decent man. No, Elizabeth feared for Fitzwilliam, he had not shown any jealousy during their entire time at Pemberley so far, but there had been no-one to be jealous of. And this was the last man he could afford to show it to, he absolutely had to control himself. Of course she could try to avoid Prince George, to make it easier on her beloved. But she liked the Prince for his intelligent conversation, and he liked her, and it was such an excellent connection for Eric to have. She could not slight him to please her husband, and she didn't want to. Maybe she could order Fitzwilliam to keep his calm? Then reward him if he succeeded?

  'I don't really know why I've put on my riding skirts this morning, I suppose the weather will stay like this the entire day. Why don't we go for a ramble after tea? We can take an umbrella to keep dry.'

  'With this wind? Well, maybe if we take the circuit, it's rather sheltered. Or we could stay in today and enjoy the music. That reminds me...Fielding, Georgie?'

  Both looked up from the music sheets they were studying.

  'Do you
mind having your little instrument downstairs while we are

  entertaining?'

  The two looked at each other and Fielding observed, 'It's a very good idea, actually. I'll be able to play few things I've written to all of you, especially the Prince, I guess, since he has heard the best players and composers. Might as well make the most of such an unexpected visit. Shall I find Nick to help bring it over right away?'

  'Bob and Bruce can do it, you know, no need for Nick or yourself to lug things around.'

  'If you don't mind, I prefer to have Nick help me, he is proud of his strength and he knows about instruments by now, he helped bring the Clementi in here. Maybe Bruce can come as well, Bob may be a bit slight of build to lift that much mahogany, the little Zumpe is heavier than it looks. I'm not looking forward to moving it down the stairs, it's always a risk.'

  'I'll help Nick carry the piano,' Manners said in his usual forceful way. 'I'm stronger than Bruce and I know what that piano means to you, Eric, and to Georgiana. I think we can even keep it steady enough to keep it from detuning. Let's do it quickly, before your guest comes down.'

  Anne didn't hesitate to follow the two men out, and Georgie immediately put her brother to work moving several comfortable chairs to make room for the little black Zumpe. Darcy could not fault the spot she'd chosen, whereas the Clementi was placed a bit to the side to facilitate ceaseless practise without disturbing their usual routine too much, while still allowing the occasional demonstration, Georgiana planned to make the little Zumpe the focal point of the room. Had it been larger, they would have had to move the other piano out or rearrange the heavier furniture, but as it was there was just enough space for two instruments.

  Piano moved and put into its new place, a prime spot in the middle of the large drawing-room where it caught every eye despite its plainness, Georgiana and Eric occupied themselves with tuning. Darcy was reading, as usual, and Frederick was a little bored. He wanted to go out, but rain or sleet, or something in between, was still punishing the windows with energy, he would be soaked before reaching the stables.