Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (118 page)

“THERE IS NOTHING TO BE DONE but the waiting, Mrs. Darcy.”  Mrs. Reynolds followed Elizabeth on her tour through the house.  “I’ve sent most of the staff to catch a few winks while it is quiet.  Perhaps you might do the same?” 

“I will.  I just needed to be sure that everything was in hand before I lay my head down.  The gentlemen will return before too long.”

“Yes, we have a cold repast laid out for each of them in their chambers, and bathing water heated and keeping warm upstairs already.” 

“At least it is September, so those fires are not too unwelcome.”   She looked around and sighed.  “The house is beautiful.”

“They will remember the ball, not the house.  Pemberley has not been seen dressed for a very long time, but the setting is not as important as the event, and particularly the host and hostess.”  Lady Matlock informed her as she joined them. 

“I do not know if I should find that reassuring or not.”  Elizabeth said helplessly.

“I have no doubt of your success.”  She spoke bluntly and nodded towards a room prepared for refreshments.  “There was a small issue with the orgeat, I have spoken to Evans about it.”

“Oh please, was it strained?  If Fitzwilliam has to chew his drink, I will never convince him to touch it again!”

“No, no, it was properly prepared; I just thought that it was lost amongst the punch bowls.  Orgeat is far more intriguing than lemonade.”  She sniffed. 

“Of course.”  Smiling, Elizabeth looked out of the window.  “The skies are still clear.”

“It would not dare rain, Mrs. Darcy.”  Mrs. Reynolds said fiercely. 

“From your mouth to God’s ears.”  She murmured and looking back at the expectant housekeeper, she nodded.  “I suppose that we have done what we can.  Please go and take some rest yourself, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“I will just have a cup of tea and put my feet up in my office with Mrs. Johns for a minute or two.”  She smiled.  “Don’t you worry about a thing.  May I say, madam, that the staff was very pleased when you came down and spoke this morning.  Very pleased.”

“It was my pleasure.”  Elizabeth watched her go and turned to find Lady Matlock had joined them.  “What are you thinking?”

“You went to encourage the staff this morning?” 

“And thank them.  My husband will surprise them with bonuses tomorrow as well.” 

“Hmm.”  Lady Matlock studied her.  “I thought that we should go over the proper methods for receiving your guests, and of course, sending them home.”  She managed a smile when Elizabeth held her face in her hands and groaned.  “You know that your husband will be looking to you.” 

“I was hoping to rely on him.”  Elizabeth sighed helplessly and waved towards the hallway and the front door.  “Very well, Aunt.  One more lesson.”

Chapter 42

“W
ould you like to come in?”  Samuel asked as he helped Georgiana down from her horse.

She eyed the office.  “Oh no, Fitzwilliam would be very unhappy if I were to go in there.” 

“Yes, I know.  He feels that women have no reason to enter such a place, particularly if it is not for business.  I remember he left Elizabeth sitting in a carriage outside of Easterly’s.”  He chuckled and thought of Darcy newly married and happily consulting his watch. 

“I will just go find the patterns Elizabeth asked for, unless you would like to look at fabrics at the drapers’ with me?”  She tilted her head and smiled.

“No, that is somewhere
a man
has no business visiting.” 

“Hmm.  Fitzwilliam came with us one time.”  Her smile fell away when she spotted the church steps.  Samuel touched her arm and she rallied.  “I will meet you here in ten minutes?”

“Perfect.” 

Georgiana set off across the busy street and into the dressmaker’s shop.  She walked around touching the fabric and admiring the ribbons, and then found a display with embroidery patterns.  She was looking through them when she heard a bell jangle followed by a soft, familiar voice. 

“How are you?”  She stiffened and stared straight ahead as the presence behind her spoke.  “Please do not be frightened.”

“I . . . I am not.”

“Are you well?  You seem recovered.”

“I am.  I am quite well.”

“Is our baby well?”

“Shhh!”  She glanced around to see if anyone could hear.

“Forgive me.  Is Hope well?” 

“I understand that she laughs a great deal.”  Georgiana swallowed.  “She is well-loved.”

“You are separated from her, too?”

“I . . . I cannot bear to visit . . . It is not because I do not want to see her.  When she is not so small maybe it will be easier, she will not be a baby anymore . . .” She paused and listened to Wickham’s familiar breathing.  “Why are you here?”

“I said that I would look in on you from time to time.  I heard that there was to be a ball at Pemberley, and . . .”

“You were not planning to come!  They would kill you!”  She turned and faced him at last.

“No.”  He smiled to see her wide blue eyes again.  “I promised your brother I would stay off his land, and I have.  It would have been easier to come and spy upon you at church, but of course, Kympton is part of Pemberley.  So . . . here I am, avoiding your cousin.” He glanced out across the street at Mayfield’s. “I promised not to approach you, either, but I could not pass on this opportunity when you rode right up to me.  It was a gift I could not refuse.” 

“Are you working?”

His gaze returned to her.  “I have an income.” 

“Is it earned honestly?”  She demanded.

Wickham laughed.  “I see Mrs. Darcy has been influencing you.  
My
Georgie would never have asked that question.”

“But I am not your Georgie now.”  She lifted her chin, but still looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

“You will always be my Georgie.  You will always be the mother of my daughter.  You will always be the one good part of me.”  Wickham’s eyes wandered over her, drinking in everything. 

“I can see now how I fell under your spell.”  She said softly.  “You have been on my mind today.”

“Have I?  Why?”  He smiled.  “Dare I hope that you thought of dancing with me?”

“I am not permitted to attend the ball.  I am too young to be courted by gentlemen.”  She managed to hold his gaze and she saw guilt appear in his expression.  “I wanted to know . . . when I gave you my ring to sell . . . had you already written to my brother, telling him where I was, so that he could bring me home?”  Wickham nodded.  “So . . . you knew that the money was not to keep us, but . . . to keep you?  Because you knew that Brother would not meet your demands for my . . . he would not give you the ten thousand pounds?” 

“Yes, and I returned to you full of regret and drink.”  Shrugging, he sighed.  “As I said, dear Georgie.  You are the one good part of me.”

He saw the door to Mayfield’s opening.  Samuel stepped out and looked towards the shop.  “I must go.”  Taking her hand, he looked into her eyes.  “I am glad that you and our . . . Hope is well.  I am glad that you are where you belong.  I am glad that I do not have to think of you with anyone else yet.”  He kissed her gloved hand.  “Until next time.”

She leaned on the table displaying the dress patterns. “You promised Fitzwilliam to stay away.” 

“I know.”  He held her eyes and then drawing a breath, nodded and slipped out the door, the bell jangling in his wake and then ringing anew moments later when Samuel entered with a grin. 

“You dawdled on purpose, just to bring me in here!” 

“No . . .” She held her hand to her heart.  “I . . . I was speaking to someone.”  

“Oh?  Who?”  Taking the patterns she clutched in her hand and signalling the shopkeeper who was busy cutting fabric for a pair of ladies, he drew out his purse to pay. 

“Mr. Wickham.” The purse hit the floor with a thud and she found Samuel staring with his mouth open first at her and then the door.  His face had turned a shade of umber that rivalled her brother’s when fury gripped him.  “He only asked after my health, and Hope’s.” 

“He swore he would never approach again.”  Samuel hissed.

“He is gone.  Please . . .” Georgiana clutched his arm to keep him from running out the door.  “He is gone.”  Samuel stared at her for several moments and finally, bent to pick up the purse and silently pay the clerk when he appeared.  Handing her the package, he took her arm and led her back to the horses, helped her to mount, and then climbed on his own.  He looked around until he spotted at last Wickham’s familiar form as he boarded a carriage parked at the inn.

“You had
better
depart.”  He growled and looked back at her.  “Did he try to entice you?” 

“No, he . . . I saw him with clear eyes.”  She looked ahead as they rode.  “I am so happy to be home.” 

Samuel looked behind him at the departing carriage and then ahead at the road.  “You
will
be telling William about this encounter.”

“Yes.”  She said quietly.  “But not tonight?  He is gone.  And I want Fitzwilliam to be happy tonight . . . and you promised me a dance.” 

“Yes, I did.”  Samuel puffed out his cheeks and looked at her.  “Yes, I did.” 

“WE SHOULD BE SLEEPING, but here we are chattering like we used to.”  Elizabeth was sitting on her bed with her arms clasped around her knees.  Jane was leaning back against the footboard and smiling.  “If I fall asleep at this ball . . .”

“I imagine it will be loud enough to keep you awake.”

“You do not know how quickly I fall asleep.”  Elizabeth laughed.  “I was sitting in the library with Fitzwilliam last week.  He asked me a question and when he turned his head, I was curled up against his chest.  I woke with my head in his lap and him playing with my hair while he read.”  She smiled softly, “We needed that.”

“That sounds so lovely.  Charles and I have never just relaxed like that, neither of us have ever known such intimacy, or even tried to experience it.  I suppose because there is always someone present.”  She saw Elizabeth’s brows rising and asked hopefully, “Do you think there is someone for Caroline at the ball?  Mr. Fox looked at her last night . . .”

“He did more than look, he spoke to her and then to Mr. Hurst.”  Elizabeth shrugged.  “I do not know if it was anything more than politeness.  I do not know of his wishes to marry or if he has someone in his life that he admires already.  He is simply here as Fitzwilliam’s friend.”

“If Mr. Fox is the same as your husband, he would not choose her.”  Jane said pensively.  “Is it unkind to wish her married very soon?” 

“Not at all, we all would wish for every single lady to find her mate.  And there is no earthly reason why Miss Bingley should not find one if she chooses to look in the most appropriate places.”  She shrugged when Jane looked at her.  “Then again, Fitzwilliam chose me, so you never know where Cupid might strike next.  Her dowry and looks might make up for her beginnings and personality.” 

“Lizzy!”

“Tell me I am wrong!”  She laughed and nudged Jane’s leg with her foot. 

“But Charles is not the same as Mr. Fox, is he?  Or Mr. Winslow or Mr. Manning?”

“He has an estate now.”  Elizabeth offered with a smile.  “Well, as soon as he pays for it, that is.”

“We will return to London to make the arrangements.  At least that will remove my sister from your hair, and put her back into Louisa’s and mine.”  Jane sighed and drawing her knees up to her chest, rested her cheek on them. 

“Lady Catherine intends to help her tonight.”  Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled.  “I cannot wait to see that!” 

“I somehow doubt that Caroline would call it help.”  Jane said wryly.

“As long as she is out of my way, and not looking at my husband, I give my aunt free rein to be as useful as she deems fit.  For your sake I pray that she is successful.  If nothing else, perhaps she can convince Miss Bingley to give up her regret for Pemberley.  She is quite good with issuing commands.” 

Nodding, Jane said softly, “Lady Catherine cornered me this afternoon and demanded an exact account of how her letter came to be read out to the family.  I apologize, Lizzy.  I should have stopped Lydia when I realized what was happening, but it was over so quickly . . .”

“There is nothing to be done about it now, and it was nothing that I have not already heard from our dear brother.  What Mary sees in him . . .”  Elizabeth shook it off.  “Well, Aunt Catherine’s determination is not at all surprising.”  Stretching out, Elizabeth rested her head on a pillow.  “And she swore revenge of some sort?”

“I think that your being pregnant would be enough revenge for her.”  Jane studied her sister’s plump cheeks, so similar to Mary’s.  “Are you with child, Lizzy?  That is what everyone is whispering about, but nobody knows for certain.  They almost seem afraid to say anything at all.”  She looked out of the window at the lake sparkling in the bright sunshine.  “I can imagine that the pressure to give Fitzwilliam an heir is quite high.”

“Not from him.”  She smiled softly and seeing Jane’s concern, she sighed.  “I want to believe it with all of my heart, Jane.  But I have had no proof of it.  Fitzwilliam is positive.  Of course.  And of course it is a son.  The first of a houseful.”

“Of course.”  Jane smiled.  “I hope that you know soon.”

Elizabeth thought of the blood she had found and spoke quietly, “I hope that
you
are successful soon.” 

She sighed and looked around the room.  “You truly do not sleep here?”

Brightening, Elizabeth waved her hand, “You see the decoration; would any sensible woman sleep in here?  Did you hear Lady Catherine when she complimented the decoration of the house and Fitzwilliam had to tell her that his father had undone everything his mother had changed upon their marriage?  Except this room?”  Jane nodded.  “Poor Sophie, what a job she will have when she becomes Lady Matlock one day.  You should see that house, gewgaws and armour everywhere, mixed with dark panelling and horrid taste.  I wonder what battles were fought over that fortress hundreds of years ago.  It was certainly not designed for dancing.”

“Lizzy!” Jane put her hand to her mouth and laughed.  “But what of Lady Gladney?  She seems healthy, marriage suits her.”