Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (110 page)

“Yes, Uncle.”  Darcy smiled to see how eager he was to crow and with an internal shake of his head, he gave in to him.  “Indeed, your letter set off a whole chain of events.  I was furious, as you can imagine . . .”  He turned in his saddle.  “Ferguson handled it for me.  Go on; tell your story to Lord Matlock.” 

“Sir, it was nothing.  You asked me to oversee their removal, and I did.”

“Oh, stop being so damned modest, man!”  Lord Matlock fell back to ride beside him.  “What happened?”

Barnes nodded at him encouragingly and Ferguson saw Darcy’s approving smile.  “Very well.  Mr. Darcy received your letter, sir. He questioned me and the house staff, and then I understand that you contacted the attorney . . .”

“Easterly!  Yes, yes, I did that first thing the next morning!  I leapt from bed with that intent on my mind.  He was surprised to see me so early. 
I
was surprised myself!  He was stunned, of course, and we poured over the contract together.  I daresay we both were racing for pen and paper to write to you Darcy.”

“Your triumph, Uncle, was deeply appreciated, I assure you.”  Darcy could not help but laugh when he heard Richard and Albert snorting at their father.

“Excellent method to return to Darcy’s good graces, Father.”  Richard prodded him.

“That is not why I helped.”  He glared.

“But it did not hurt, did it?”  Gladney smiled.

“Ferguson?”  Darcy nodded to him.  “Carry on.”

“Yes, sir, I received your orders and Judge Darcy’s direction . . .”  Seeing the expectant gazes upon him, he finally smiled.  “If ever I have seen a man leave with his tail between his legs, it was Mr. Walker, sir.  And he did try to take a few souvenirs.”

“Did he?”  Darcy frowned.

“Some books.  He was disappointed about the broken vase.”

“Was that the one we crushed?”  Richard laughed.  “When we fell on it?”

“You two fought?”  Gladney stared.  “I missed it!” 

“I would have paid to see that!”  Bingley nodded eagerly.  “What was it over?”

Richard glanced at Harding and shrugged, “Nothing in particular.” 

“I do not believe that for a second.”  Lord Matlock said as he looked between the two. 

“Believe what you like, Uncle.  The important event is that Walker is gone.”  Darcy sighed. “I feel sorry for the son, he had been given great expectations and had them dashed publicly by strangers.  He may even have liked Cathy.”

Lord Matlock bristled, “Watch it Darcy, do not dare make me feel remorse.  Even as the supposed heir to Sommerwald, he would not have been appropriate for Cathy.  Perhaps that sister of yours, Bingley . . .”

“Now don’t make me feel remorse, either!”  He cried as they all laughed.

“What will become of Sommerwald now, Darcy?”  Harding asked quietly.

“I do not know.”  He shrugged.  “It is self-sustaining, that is enough for the staff and the upkeep.  Until Father died, it had never been let; and after this experience, I do not think I will do so again.  It is a shame though, it is a beautiful property.  Richard, you and Sophie are welcome to use it whenever you visit her family.”

“I will take you up on that.  It seems a shame though that it may be twenty years or more before a child of yours might move in there permanently.” 

“Yes, but . . . I have no one else.”  He looked back to Ferguson.  “Until then I leave it in your capable hands, Ferguson.  I can trust you with anything, and I appreciate your loyalty.”

“It is my honour, sir.”  Ferguson nodded and seeing Barnes wink at him he retreated to the rear of the group. 

Coming over a rise, Hurst consulted a letter he drew from his coat.  “If I am not mistaken, I believe that is our destination.”

The nine men sat on their horses about a quarter mile from Wyndham Hall.  Darcy snapped shut his pocket watch.  “Two and three quarter hours.” 

“Well, take off a quarter hour for that needed stop to assuage our thirst.”  Richard noted without looking away.

“I stand corrected.  Two and a half hours.”  Darcy adjusted his seat.  “From a distance it appears sound.”

“From a distance a shack can resemble a palace.”  Lord Matlock laughed.  “Now up close, will we be assailed by slate falling from the roof?”

“Birds in the attic and a mound of dung on the windowsills.”  Gladney murmured.  The men looked at him and he smiled.  “Just enjoying the spirit of things.”

“Good for you.”  Richard grinned. 

Bingley beamed at the manor house.  “I think that it looks excellent, and you would not have steered me wrong, Darcy.  You rejected nearly every other suggestion the estate agent made.”

“That is because those estates were available due to extreme disrepair and the owners’ inability to afford their rescue.  Your money should be paying for property, not plaster.”  He murmured as he examined the surrounding land with a practiced eye.  “The house is only thirty years old.  Unless the architect was a fool, it should be as new.”

“And what is the story here?”  Harding asked.

“A familiar one.  Debt.  The owner is in prison, and his home is his freedom.  He built it with gambling money, so . . . It is not an emotional loss, I suppose.”

“Still, rather sad, that.”  Richard glanced at his father.

“Indeed.”  He said quietly. 

“Well, his misfortune is your good luck, Bingley.  Let’s go and have a look.”  Nudging Bruin, Darcy took the point, and was joined by Bingley, Hurst, Richard and Lord Matlock.  Barnes and Ferguson moved out to examine the property while Harding and Gladney lagged behind.

“Not so eager to have a look?  It could be interesting to witness Fitzwilliam interrogating the steward.”  Harding smiled as they let their mounts amble forward. 

“It would, but, no . . . not knowing how this is available.”  He sighed.  “I know that Matlock could not be sold, but I do know that debtor’s prison would not have been out of the realm of possibility for me, despite my title.”

“It brings it home.”  They continued riding in silence.  In the distance Gladney noticed the spire of a church set at a crossroads.

“Do you know how many times I have considered taking my life?”  Gladney noticed that he received the exact opposite of the reaction he would have had from any other person.  “I imagine that you do.”

“I do.”  Harding clasped his reins tightly and followed his gaze.  “There were days when I would look into the quiet churchyards and think enviously of the peace their inhabitants felt, and hated them for it.”

“What stopped you?” 

“It is an easy way out for the desperate man, but it leaves turmoil for those who are left behind.  No matter how long the letter of explanation, their questions of why will never be answered fully.  It would hurt more than help.” 

“It would clear the way for my brother.  I am already dead to my father.”

“I do not believe that at all!   He looks at you married with gladness, and not simply for the financial relief it brought to your family.  He is your father.  You are his first born child.  You never forget the absolute joy the day that your son’s birth brings to you, nor the hopes you harboured for him as he grew.” 

Gladney cocked his brow at him.  “You are still judging, despite your retirement.”

“I judge myself alone.”  He looked out at the park.  “Is the craving still overwhelming you?” 

“I do feel better, healthier, in control, but that is because I am completely isolated from any temptation.  What terrifies me is not my death, but Father’s.  If he died, I would be Earl of Matlock and then there is no avoiding London.  I would be right back in the thick of things, and that would require . . .”

“Yes, I know.  All of the glad-handing of politics, the empty promises sealed with a wink and a nod, and a healthy glass of wine.”

“Or intoxicating whiff of opium . . .”  Gladney said longingly.  “Lord, I miss it.” 

“You do not think that you could resist?  Even with Lady Gladney by your side?”  Harding looked at him seriously.  “She cares for you.” 

“It is she alone that keeps me from it now, I hope that is enough.”  Gladney looked down and studied the grass passing beneath his horse’s hooves as he walked. “She seems to be feeling more for me.”

Harding laughed. “And you for her.  Has it not grown over the past month when we last spoke of this?”

“It has been difficult under our parents’ scrutiny.  Father’s talks with me have been awkward and embarrassing.  They were a sure way of sending me in search of the laudanum.”  Harding did not smile.  “It would be utterly improbable for her not to have imagined being Darcy’s wife in every sense of the word, not after a lifetime of expectations courtesy of her mother.  I see her staring at my cousin’s tenderness with Mrs. Darcy and she must wonder, what if . . .”

“If you expressed tenderness to her she would never have that thought at all, would she?”

Angrily, Gladney swore, “What is the point?  In the end I would disappoint her even more.”

“Have you tried?   Are you afraid of disappointing her or are you regretting that you will receive no satisfaction due to your impotence?   There is more to the act of love than copulation.  If you love her, learn how to express it, and accept her awkward attempts to satisfy you.  It will be hard because if you are truly unable to respond, she will fear that her efforts are ineffective.  If you let yourself feel, you just might overcome some of the damage done.”  He nodded sagely.  “She has been married long enough to know what she is missing and to feel envy again.  Nip that in the bud.  She is married long enough to know that she does love you.  Help it to grow.”

“You are full of wise words.”  He said to his hands.

Harding smiled when he saw Darcy riding towards them and raised his hand in greeting.  “No, I am not wise.  I am earning my way back, too.” 

“THE SHADOWS ARE BECOMING LONG.”  Elizabeth said to nobody in particular.  Her arms crossed around her chest, she stared out at the park, but there was nothing on the lawn except for a tall horse and a few sheep grazing near the ha-ha.  The men had been gone since seven in the morning, and it was long past that time in the evening.  Worriedly, she looked up at the ridge and consulted the watch pinned to her gown.  “Twelve and three quarter hours.”  

“They will be along soon, Elizabeth.” Susan smiled and hugged her.  “They will be tired, though.  Especially the ones not used to being in a saddle all day.” 

Jane clasped her hands and looked out.  “They will miss supper if they do not come soon.”

“If Fitzwilliam is not here by ten o’clock . . .”  Elizabeth closed her eyes.  “He is fine, of course.”

“Of course.  You are simply used to him being home every night.”  Lady Matlock joined them at the window.  “Some wives would look at this with relief.”  She smiled at the look she received.  “Not you, of course!”  Laughing, she patted her shoulder.  “Relax, dear.   They probably stopped off somewhere for a drink or two.” 

“You could start a fire with that glare.”  Susan nudged her.  “Come and sit, you are dead on your feet.”

“I am fine.”  She said stubbornly.

“Pushing yourself does nobody any good.  Remember, you have more than yourself to think about.”  Susan smiled with the suspicious look she received. “Fitzwilliam?”

“Oh.”  She sighed and closed her eyes, and then hearing something, they flew open again. 

“What is that?”  Sophie asked and moved to join them at the window.  “It sounds like . . . singing?” 

“Men singing.”  Elizabeth threw up the sash and the women leaned out.  There below strode all of the men, side by side, bellowing some song about a sweet bonnie lass, drunk as skunks and dripping wet.  “Good heavens!  What have they done?”

“Richard has a jug in his hand; I think that the truth is clear as day.”  Sophie’s hands were on her hips.  “And I thought my days of shooing a drunken man to his bed were over when I married.” 

“You married my son, dear, you should have known better.  At least your brothers leave you unsurprised.”  Lady Matlock watched her husband and shook her head.  “Barton Fitzwilliam, you will feel this in the morning.”

“They all will.”  Cathy noted.

“As they should.”  Lady Catherine joined them at the window and sniffed.

“Are they really drunk?”  Georgiana peered over their shoulders unhappily.  “Why?  I cannot bear a man who drinks.”

“Oh Albert, I hope that you did not do anything foolish.”  Anne whispered.

Darcy spotted his wife leaning out of the window.  “Juliet!”  He cried; and striding forward, he stood beneath the window with his hand to his heart.  “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon . . .”

“Kill the moon?”  Richard withdrew an imaginary sword.  “Where is it?  I will get that scurvy wag!” 

“Shushhh.”  Bingley slapped his shoulder.  “Darce . . . Darcy is . . . Darcy is emoting.”  He bowed.  “Carry . . . Carry on.  Good.”   He swayed and blinked.  “Friend.” 

“Steady, Brother.”  Hurst grabbed his shoulder.  “Listen to the great lover.  Darcy, you have the floor.  Oh, forgive me, Lord Matlock.”

“No, no, have at it, Nephew.”

“Thank you.”  Darcy spun around and facing the window again spotted Elizabeth staring at him in disbelief.  “She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye discourses; I will answer it.”  Darcy’s finger went to his lips.  “Shhhhh.”  He hushed himself.  “I am too bold; ‘tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all of heaven having some business do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, you must stop him.”  Sophie laughed and leaned on her shoulder. 

Elizabeth’s hand was to her mouth.  “You silly drunken fool!” 

“Drunk with your beauty, my love . . . my love . . .”  He beamed and spinning to his companions  waved at the window.    “See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!” 

Her face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, she turned away from the window, and was quickly followed by the other wives. Elizabeth ran down the stairs, and nearly fell as her slippers touched the newly waxed floor.  Finally she reached the front door and flung it open.