Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (141 page)

She laughed at his breathless presentation.  “What are you saying, sir?  What on earth has possessed you today?” 

“I am so happy to come back to you. Now, walk with me.”  He held out his arm and they started on a tour of the house.  “Look at these rooms.”

Jane smiled and looked over the decor as they went from room to room.  “They are lovely.  I have always thought so.” 

“But they are empty, and they are lonely.”  They arrived in a drawing room overlooking the snowy garden and he put his arms around her waist. “Your father has signed the settlement.”  Bingley held her eyes. “For all intents and purposes, we are married.  I am bound to you forever by that contract.” 

Jane blushed and looked down.  “We still have to go to church, sir.”

“Darcy suggested that I obtain a special license, so that we may marry at Longbourn.  I jumped at the idea.  Acquiring that bit of paper delayed my return, but I put the time to good use settling some other affairs.”  He tilted his head and watched the strain in her face grow.  “Despite his admirable attempt to be his old self it was very clear to me that your father is weakening.  He sleeps in his bookroom now?  I saw the bed that had been placed there.  It is too much effort to take the stairs?”

“He tried, and Mr. Hill offered to carry him in a chair with the help of one of the stable boys, but Papa thought it was humiliating and refused.  He prefers the company of his books now more than any of us.”  She said softly.  “Is it wrong that I feel relief for that?  I never knew what to say to him before he was ill and now it is even harder.  But I feel I must try since Lizzy is not here . . .  Oh Mr. Bingley, I do not know what to do.  There is the house to look after and Kitty and Lydia, Mama cries; I go to sit with her and then I go to sit with him . . .”

Bingley stopped her with a kiss.  “It is the end of his life; let him face it in his own way.  I think that he was pleased to have the house to himself when I suggested that I bring you here.  Sometimes people find our unrelenting happiness to be grating.  Just ask Darcy his opinion of me sometime when he has had a few drinks too many and his tongue is loosened.  If we had been somewhere of privacy instead of the theatre a few nights ago, I know that he would not have held back.” 

“What did you do to that poor man?”  She demanded.

“I was stupid.  I tried to ease the tension with levity and neither your sister nor your brother wanted to laugh.  Maybe in twenty or thirty years.”

“Oh, Mr. Bingley.” 

“I will tell you all about it later.”  He kissed her forehead.  “Jane, I understand so well the feelings you are carrying.  Remember, I have lived through the slow decline of my father and the sudden death of my mother.  You feel torn about your duties.  My father did me a kindness when he told me to concentrate on the future, he had no concept of what lay ahead for me and could offer little counsel, but he did give me permission to move forward.  Your father, by allowing us to come here essentially alone to my empty home is telling you the same thing.”  Letting go of her hands, he reached into his coat and removed a letter.  “I talked to Mrs. Darcy, and she . . . frankly she did not trust me to repeat her thoughts properly so she wrote them down for you.  I cannot imagine why she had such little faith in me!”  He laughed when she looked at him with surprise.  “Oh all right, I admit it, I begged her to write it out because I was sure I would never be able to speak as well as she.  There, I am fool.   Go on and read, and when you are through, we can talk.”

Jane thought of what her sister probably said, “Does she tell me to marry you now?” 

“Most likely.”  Kissing her cheek, he put the letter into her hands and strolled out of the room.  Jane looked after him and then sitting down, broke the seal.

13 February, 1812

Darcy House

London

Dear Jane,

Mr. Bingley has handed you this letter and I hope he has charmed you enough into reading it with an open mind.  I know that you feel as the eldest child it is your responsibility to remain at home with Papa until the end and then to remain in place to care for Mama.  I understand the guilt you must feel, wanting to be lost in love with Mr. Bingley when you are faced with the reality of your family demanding your attention. 

I know, even though you would never say so out loud, that you are wondering how I could possibly understand these things?  Especially when it seems that I have divorced myself from Longbourn and flitted off to London.  Do you remember the day that Mr. Darcy proposed to me?  Do you remember that he begged me to help him?  That is what I am doing now; this is what keeps me away.  This is part of the bargain for being married to an outstanding man. 

Jane, do not delay your wedding for anyone’s sake but your own, because in the end, your efforts might be appreciated, but they will be largely forgotten as everyone settles into their new places.  When Papa dies, Mary and Mr. Collins will return to Longbourn and will have to establish themselves as master and mistress.  It will be up to them to assert their positions and to settle Mama in her place.  Kitty and Lydia will have a different man in the house in charge of their futures.  They will no longer be pushed to marry so soon, and will be there for years.  That leaves you.  You would be the engaged woman without a purpose.  When Papa dies, you cannot possibly marry right away, it would be indecent to do so.  How many months would you be forced to wait?  One, two, the entire six months of your mourning?  Is that fair to Mr. Bingley?  Is that fair to yourself? 

I do not like telling you what to do, but remember how very close I was to losing my love in a moment.  Time is too precious to waste.  Let Papa be present to see his first child delivered safely into the hands of a man who truly loves you and will uphold his promise to care for you.  Give him the peace of mind of seeing you married.  Even if he never expresses it, he does care.  I think that you would be glad he was there. 

Do the most selfish act of your life, Jane.  I cannot wait to receive my first letter from Mrs. Charles Bingley.

Love,

Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy

Tears pricked Jane’s eyes and when she finished folding the letter, she discovered Bingley sitting by her side with a handkerchief in his hand.  “What did she say?”

“You know what she said.”  Jane sniffed and dabbed at her face.

“Yes, I do.”  He slipped his arm around her waist and she did not even think to protest, and even turned to rest her head on his shoulder.  “Miss Bennet.  Do you have any idea how incredibly improper our position is?”

“Yes, but it feels so good.”  She looked up at him and covered her mouth with a gasp.  “Listen to me!” 

“Gladly!  Please do not hold yourself back with me.  I have seen your eyes sparkling with merriment; I have watched you containing your joy when you thought you had to be everything proper to win a gentleman’s . . . my . . . attention.  It was those things; the hidden things that I saw and nobody else did that had me falling for you.”

“Mr. Darcy called me content.”  She said unhappily.

“There, a prime example.”  Bingley nodded.  “Nobody saw what was in your eyes because you were not looking at anyone else.”

“How could I look at anyone else?  You are . . . so wonderfully alive.”  Jane bit her lip and touched his face.  Bingley did not move, he just smiled and let her break the rules she had made for herself. 

“How does it feel?”

“Smooth.” 

“Improper?”  He suggested and raised his brows, and stopped her from withdrawing her hand.  “If we were married, it would not be improper, and you would have someone to comfort you when you returned home from a day spent with your family.”

“You would let me do that?  You would let me visit?”  She sat up and looked at him.

“Of course!  We are but three miles away!  And when you are through with your visiting, you can come home to me.  Who knows, maybe you will even like being with me better.  And maybe you will be able to express your happiness so everyone can see.”  He smiled a little shyly and his ears grew red when her eyes softened and she caressed his face again.  “I do not want to push you; I just want to love you.” 

“I just want to love you, too, Charles.”  She whispered and blushed.

He beamed and hugged her.  “That is the first time you have ever called me Charles.” 

“I always wanted to . . .” She found herself wrapped up in his arms.  The kisses ended and they were left trying to breathe normally.  Jane glanced at his lap and her eyes widening, she looked quickly out to the garden and searched for something to say.  “Is . . . is Miss Bingley coming to live with us?”

Bingley had seen the path that her eyes took and laughed, hugging her to him again.  “Ahhh, no.  Caroline is going husband hunting.  And a Darcy made that possible.” 

JUDGE DARCY wandered the library, scanning the shelves he had once known intimately.  It had been close to a decade since he last spent time there alone.  It had been a sanctuary of sorts for him, and he felt far more comfortable within this quiet spot than he did within the walls of the church.  Physically, he was feeling much better.  He was working hard to piece together the details of all that had happened over the past months, but there were times that he knew he would never recall and other times that were hauntingly unclear.  There were times that he was grateful for that knowledge.

“Coward.”  He said softly.  “You deserve to remember every moment.  How much pain have you caused?  A lifetime of it.  How dare you want to burden Susan with it?”   He closed his eyes, thinking again of the unexpected and painful talk he had with Georgiana only hours earlier when he came upon her crying in the music room. 

 
Georgiana started when he touched her shoulder and stood up to rest against his chest.  “I am sorry.  I am so sorry, Uncle!”

“For what, dear?”  He said softly and hugged her.

“For everything.  I have been waiting and waiting for you to tell me how horrible I am, and I cannot bear to wait any longer.”  She sniffed and stood back.  “Go ahead, tell me.”

“You are not horrible, Georgiana.  You were a victim.”

“How can you be a victim when you wished for it to happen?”  She saw that he did not understand.  “I wanted him to kiss me.”

“No, you did not.”  He shook his head. 

“I wanted him to marry me.”  She said definitely.

“No, no you did not!”  He said louder.

“Yes, I did!”  She cried.   “I wanted it, I dreamed about it, and I did not tell anyone!”  She sank down on the piano bench.  “I think that the only thing that might have stopped me was if Fitzwilliam appeared unexpectedly.”  She wiped her eyes.  “But he thought that I was fine.”

“Well, he was wrong.”

“No, I told him I was fine.  He trusted me.”  She looked down at her growing belly. “And now look at me.” 

“It is not your fault, Georgiana.”

“Uncle, it is my fault.”  She pulled him down beside her.  “Fitzwilliam trusted me and now he will never trust me again.  I know that.”

“I do not know if that is true, but I do know that you trusted a rake.”

“I had plenty of opportunities to tell so many people about him.  I could have told Fitzwilliam, or you . . . I could have told my friends who were in Ramsgate.  But I liked feeling wicked and having a secret.  And now poor Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth are hurrying back here to hide me in Scotland . . . they do not deserve this.  They did not do anything wrong.”

“No, they did not.”  He hung his head.

Disgusted with himself he returned his gaze to the shelves and just came upon the family history book when he became aware of a pair of eyes studying him.  He pulled himself together.  “My dear, you are making me quite self-conscious.  Is something out of place?”  Letting go of the book, he returned to his chair by the fire.

“No, nothing at all.”  Susan smiled and tilted her head.  “You are looking more like yourself every day and I was just admiring the change.” 

“More like myself.”  His eyes darted away and he rubbed his nose.  “You mean a damned fool.”

“No.  You are healthy again.  Your eyes are bright, you are no longer gaunt.”

“Shall you check my teeth?”  He raised his brow.

Her smile fell away. “I am not buying a pony, I am complimenting you.”  

“I just do not feel that I deserve your admiration.”  He closed his eyes and opened them again.  “Forgive me for snapping, dear.  I do feel better.  I am glad that my appearance is pleasing to you.  Your appearance has always been my joy.”  He smiled to see her blush.  “Go on and read your letters before I start spouting poetry.”

“I would not mind that.”  

“You have not heard me.  Without a book in hand, I am laughable.  Although I suppose I have no excuse in here.”  They smiled at each other and he began to reach for a book at his side when she cried softly. 

“Oh my.”

Judge Darcy looked up and saw that Susan was frowning.  “Bad news?”

“I do not know quite how to categorize it.”  She gave him a bewildered smile and scooted over on the sofa she was occupying when he rose from his chair to sit next to her.  “It is from Grace.  The viscount has been told of Lady Catherine’s proposal that he marry Anne and he is in London with the whole family now.”  She put down the letter.  “Would that not be dangerous?  At Matlock he is away from all of his old influences.” 

“Yes, it would be very easy for him to be tempted in London.”  He took the letter from her and read the description of his behaviour.  “The viscount is feeling the grip of depression, I think.”  Scanning the text he nodded, “Yes, he has no interest in anything, he is irritable . . .  His mind is craving the euphoria even though his body is free of the affects.”  He read on.  “I fear for him, Susan.”

“What do you mean?”  She watched him carefully.