Imperative: Volume 1, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (75 page)

“We are not going anywhere.  Tell me what is on your mind; tell me here while we are far from everything.” 

“You are a stubborn woman, Elizabeth Darcy.” 

“Almost as stubborn as you.  Now, I do not want to go back into that beautiful home with anything left unsaid between us.”  Elizabeth urged.  “Just speak, Will.”

Darcy fell into the warmth of her eyes, but could see the worry that had appeared.  “It is not us; it is not a problem with us, Lizzy.  I have no question or worry over us.” 

“Then what is it?  Who is it?”  When he hesitated and looked away, she took both of his hands and squeezed.  “What is it?”

“Our plans were so much easier to make when I did not have Georgiana sitting feet away watching my every expression, and I was not attempting to make her feel secure again while trying to contain my disappointment.”  He finally turned his face back to meet Elizabeth’s steady gaze. “What does she really think about us taking the baby from her?  I know, we have no choice, there is no question of it happening, but, how would you feel, Elizabeth?   If it were you?”

“At her age, feeling the shame she does, trying to deny the truth, I think I would feel relief.”  He nodded and paid close attention.  “But someday when she is older, she may feel regret, even if she is old enough to understand that it was the best choice for her and the baby.”

“Will she forgive us?  Will she be able to see this child?”

“I think that she is struggling enough trying to forgive herself.”  Elizabeth moved back into his arms.  “I cannot see the future, dear.  Right now we should worry about her delivering the child and recovering, achieving this ruse and bringing her home.  Perhaps it would be best for her to go to London afterwards instead of remaining here.”

“And start over without being in earshot of the constant reminder of her ruin.”

“I think that she should be consulted on this, Will.  I know that she is under your charge and must do as you say . . .”

“But it will go down easier if she has a part in it.  Very well, love.  That is what we shall do.  Perhaps when we are in Scotland, when you two are friends?”

Laughing, she let go and looked up at him.  “Oh heavens, I wonder if that will ever come?”

“It will; you were sitting together, I take heart in that.” 

“Even if she was shooting daggers at me for insisting you cancel the order?”  Elizabeth tilted her head and he looked at his boots and smiled.  “Giving her a pianoforte . . .”

“I told you it is more difficult for me with her just feet away.”

Elizabeth cocked a brow at him as they walked back to the curricle. “I had a conversation with Georgiana about people working on her to gain favour; must I have the same with you, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy helped her up, and climbed in beside her.   “Only if your lessons include practical demonstrations of the techniques I need to avoid.”  Elizabeth laughed.  “I take that as an agreement?  Excellent, let the instruction begin!”  Taking up the reins, he gave them a crack. 

“Oooh  Brrrrrr!”  Elizabeth shivered, moving closer to him.  “It was not so cold standing within your embrace and talking but now with the horses flying, this breeze is freezing!”

“Do not dare catch a cold, Mrs. Darcy.  Not with family arriving tomorrow afternoon!”  He ordered.

“Oh, yes, that will work.  I am afraid that me becoming ill is not something you can control, sir.”  She smiled and touched his nose.  “But just in case, I hereby order you to be healthy!  Can you imagine me hosting the earl and countess without you?  And the viscount?”

“The viscount.”  He growled. 

“And Lady Cathy . . .  Well I suppose that Richard could help me.”

Darcy’s head swung and he stared at her.  “You hate Richard!”

“Watch the road, Fitzwilliam!” 

“Do you actually look forward to seeing him?”  He demanded.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy!”  Elizabeth squealed and hid her face in his shoulder.  Darcy looked up and easily straightened their direction.  His low rumble of a laugh began deep in his chest, and she looked back up at him.  Annoyed, she moved away and folded her arms across her chest.  “Jealous fool.”

“You provoked me.”  He raised a brow.

“Well of course I provoked you!  What is the fun of having a possessive husband if you do not provoke him from time to time!”

“So I am the object of amusement for you?  You are laughing at me?”  His voice became sharp. 

“Oh that is correct; Miss Bingley said you are not to be laughed at.  And I know how much you approve of her opinions.”  Elizabeth rolled her eyes.  “So touchy.”

“Quiet.”   

“
Pardon
?”

“You heard me, Mrs. Darcy.” 

“Are you truly sure that you want to use that tone of voice with me over something so petty?”  Elizabeth tilted her head.  “Save it for something worthwhile, Mr. Darcy.” 

Their gazes met and his lips began to twitch just as the twinkle appeared in his eyes.  Moving the reins to his right hand, he wrapped his left around her shoulder and drew her to his side.  “What do you say to sharing a nice warm bath, dearest?”

“What happened to our fight?”  Elizabeth demanded as they drew up in front of the house. 

“What fight?”  He jumped down when a footman appeared to hold the horses and taking her by the waist, he set her down on the ground.  Laughing at her look of absolute bemusement, he gave her a kiss and grasping her hand, they walked inside.  “Now
you
are quiet.  So touchy!” 

Chapter 24

“O
ne more day.”  Lydia said loud enough for everyone to hear.  “La, I cannot wait!”

“What happens tomorrow, Lydia?”  Mary asked.

“Is that when Aunt and Uncle Gardiner arrive?”  Jane said quickly and shot a look at her youngest sister, who rolled her eyes.

“No, no, they arrive on Monday.”  Mrs. Bennet fluttered her hand.  “Oh, my dear brother, I do hope that he brings everything that I asked for in my letters!”

“Mrs. Bennet, your brother is not coming to fulfil your wishes.”

“Well if we would visit
them
for Christmas, I could do my own shopping!  Imagine that, a Christmas in London!  We could have stayed with Lizzy if she had not gone off to Derbyshire.”  She frowned then nodding to Jane; she pointed her knitting needles at her.  “However, a visit to my brother would have given you, dear Jane, the opportunity to call on Mr. Bingley.”

“Mama, I would never do such a thing!”  Jane blushed.

“Oh, call on his sisters, but of course you would be going to see
him.
  Waiting until Twelfth Night to come back!  You mark my words, he will have his head turned by one of those painted actresses, and then where will you be?  No, no, I will speak to my brother, he will take you back with him and you will call at Mr. Bingley’s home.”

“He does not have a home, Mama.” 

Mrs. Bennet stared.  “No home in Town?”

“No.  He . . . he stays with the Hursts or Mr. Darcy, and if they are not there, he stays in a hotel.”  She looked up from her sewing to find all eyes on her.  “Lizzy told me.”

“Oh.”  Mrs. Bennet sniffed.  “Well.  I will tell my brother . . .”

“No, Mrs. Bennet, we will not foist our daughter on a man who said he will be back in a few weeks time.”  Mr. Bennet said tiredly.

“Surely he would not travel on Epiphany!”  Mr. Collins demanded.

“Fine then, he will arrive on the 7
^th
of January, will that satisfy all of you?”  Mr. Bennet folded his newspaper and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Papa, are you well?”  Jane stood to pour him some tea and bringing him the cup, set it down beside him.

“Of course he is well.”  Mrs. Bennet cried.  “It is me who is suffering!  Oh, my poor nerves!”  She looked at Mr. Collins sitting with Mary and sighed.  “You leave tomorrow, Mr. Collins?”

“Yes, yes indeed, madam.  Lady Catherine wants me returned for Sunday services without fail.”  He spoke eagerly and turned to pat Mary’s hand.  “I regret having to leave behind my dear Mary, but she can be assured that when I next come, it will be to enter into the holy estate of matrimony, and together we shall begin our walk down the primrose path
of our future together.” 

Lydia made a face and Kitty coughed.  Mary beamed, “Oh, Mr. Collins, you say such lovely things!  Did you ever take up writing poetry?”

“I did not!”  He looked struck by the idea.  “However in my spare time perhaps I will make an attempt!”

“Oh and you
must
share them with us!”  Lydia declared while batting her eyes.  “I am sure that we will admire them greatly!”  She giggled and Kitty leaned into her to stifle her laughter. 

Mr. Bennet’s lips lifted in a smile.  “Perhaps then Mr. Collins might learn the meaning of taking the primrose path.”  Seeing a roomful of blank faces, he missed Elizabeth again for likely the hundredth time that day.  “I wish you all the best, Mary.  I am sure that you will make a good wife.” 

Surprised, she smiled at him.  “Thank you, Papa.” 

“Longbourn is saved, it seems.” Mr. Bennet watched Jane as he poured something into his tea and putting the bottle away, made a face when he took a sip.  “Tell me, Daughter,” he nodded towards the engaged pair as the conversation of the other women took a turn, “did any of your mother’s declarations appeal to you?  Would you like to see Mr. Bingley again?”

She blushed and looked down at her hands.  “Of course I would, he is a most amiable gentleman.”

“Do you care for him?”

“Papa!” 

“Let me tell you something about men,” he took a longer sip and shuddered as he drained the teacup, “we are not too bright.  We are distracted by flash and dash when we should choose the steady course.”  He nodded to Mrs. Bennet.  “We aim high when we should choose sensibly,” he nodded at Mary and Collins, “we need to be helped along, sometimes by way of a good clubbing, to see what is best for us.”  He met her wide eyes.  “If you see Mr. Bingley again, see how good you are with that club.” 

“Papa!”  Jane gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

He laughed and slowly stood.  “Forgive me dear, this little dose of laudanum makes me quite loose with my tongue.  I thought I was addressing Lizzy, not my sweet Jane.  Now
she
is a woman who knows full well how to wield a club!”  Seeing her concern, he patted her shoulder.  “No need to worry, my dear, just a twinge of old age.  But think about what I said, it might just be memorable.”  He stopped and smiled at her.  “What would you have done in that library at Netherfield if Mr. Bingley had approached you?”  Her eyes widened and he nodded again.  “Despite appearances, it was Lizzy who was in charge there, just as it is now for you.” 

“UP THERE, no, over to the left!”   Mrs. Reynolds directed the footman on the ladder.  “Do not make me go up there myself!  Use your eyes!  Mrs. Darcy wants this house to be decorated!  Quickly!  You know that a carriage is in the park!”  She spotted Georgiana standing quietly in a doorway and her cheeks reddened.  “Not that it wasn’t beautiful before, Miss Darcy.”

“I suppose that I did not ask for enough.  I hope that Mrs. Darcy is satisfied now.”  She slowly turned and walked away from the activity, regretting not listening to her aunt’s frequent prodding to prepare a grand atmosphere for her brother’s homecoming.  But besides not feeling particularly like celebrating her brother’s marriage, Georgiana had never seen Pemberley fully turned out for Christmas; and even less so since her father’s death.  As a result, there were scant decorations of pine and ribbons on a few doorways, and little else, just as she and Darcy had decorated for the past five years at Darcy House in London.  Christmas was just another day in so many ways.  It was what she knew, and to her, it seemed correct. 

There was no denying that the house was absolutely lovely now.  The public rooms were draped in cuttings of evergreen and holly.  Sprigs of rosemary and lavender from the conservatory hung with the fragrant branches, and it smelled beautiful.  An enormous Yule log had been acquired and sat ready for the special day.  So many things, traditions that Elizabeth carried with her from Longbourn were present, and Darcy seemed utterly delighted to see what she had done.  ‘Oh dearest, I remember that!’  He said over and over as she suggested each new idea that morning at breakfast.  Georgiana watched him; his eyes were alight with discovery.  He held Elizabeth’s hand, pointing out things in the house as it was transformed that afternoon, recalling that his parents hosted balls and the house would be filled with guests.  He remembered how his mother had kept a bowl piled with oranges and talked fondly of tasting pineapple for the first time one Christmas.  Georgiana did not understand the look in his eye when Elizabeth confessed she had never seen one, let alone tasted it.

Entering her father’s favourite parlour near his study she walked around, trying to remember Christmases past, and finally stopped resisting and turned to look up at the wall above the mantelpiece where the miniature portrait of Wickham hung alongside another of her brother.  She stared up at him, then held her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Shhhhh, shhhh.” 

Georgiana jumped when she felt arms embracing her.  “Oh!  I thought you had gone upstairs to change.” 

“I heard you crying.”  Elizabeth let her go and after searching a bit, offered a handkerchief.  Georgiana stared, and cautiously took it to dab at her eyes before handing it back.  “May I help you?” 

“No.”  She swallowed and glanced quickly at the portraits.  “No, I . . . I am fine.” 

“hmm.”  Elizabeth looked at the wall and walked forward.  “Oh, is this Fitzwilliam?”  She smiled and started to laugh.  “How very young he looks!  He looks so much like Samuel here, I wonder if that is truly how he was or if this is the artist’s vision?  When was this done?” 

“Before Papa died, there is one of me as well.”

“Oh yes, but you have changed so much.”  Elizabeth turned to look at her.  “You were a little girl there, and now you are a woman.”

“I am?”  Georgiana moved beside her and examined the portrait.

“You do not agree?”