Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (26 page)

“It crept up on us.” Elizabeth wiped a drop from her cheek. “Oh no!” 

“You wanted to race . . .” Darcy turned Bruin and Elizabeth followed him.  The drips suddenly turned into a shower. 

“Will!”  She squealed. 

“Take your time, dear.  We cannot become any wetter, so we will just be safe.” 

“But it is cold!”  Elizabeth bent her head against the driving storm.  “I want a bath when we are home.”

He held onto his hat and laughed.  “You want to dry off only to become wet again?” 

“What do you suggest, then?”  She called over the roar of the rain.

“Hot toddies, hot fire . . . and we will see what happens from there.”

“You are as bad as my mare!” 

Fortunately, they were not too far from the stables, and after riding directly inside, they dismounted and holding hands ran across the lawn and into the kitchen, where they were greeted by nonstop exclamations of dismay, ranging from predictions of death by chill to the dangers of the wet floor.  Soon they were on their way upstairs to dry and change their clothes. 

Jennifer went to work squeezing the water from Darcy’s sodden great coat.  “Never in my life have I lived somewhere that had so much rain!” 

“It will improve as the month wears on.”  Mrs. Shaw assured her. 

Mrs. Duncan set to work making an assortment of warming drinks.  “I have heard that it rains no more here than in Italy.”

“I volunteer to go and find out.”  The women looked up at the sound of the male voice.  “Is everything well?  Miss Cargill was concerned, but could not rise comfortably to see what was happening, we only heard the commotion.”

“We, Mr. Ferguson?”  Mrs. Shaw asked slyly.  

“Will you answer my question, Mrs. Shaw?”  The steward and housekeeper stared at each other.

“Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were caught in the rain.”  Jennifer spoke up.

“Thank you.  Was that so hard?”  His eyes swept the room before he turned and left. 

“He learned that look from the master.”  Mrs. Duncan smiled. 

“What is he doing sitting with that girl!” 

“He was writing Mr. Darcy a letter, and you know full well that I was sitting with her, too.”  Jennifer gave Darcy’s coat a last squeeze.  “And you will show Miss Cargill the respect she deserves!”

Mrs. Shaw stared after her and went to work on the tray she was preparing.  “I do not approve of this at all.  And here this ruined girl is now making eyes at Mr. Ferguson, and simple fool, he is sucked into her spell, just like the one she seduced before.”

“Mrs. Shaw.”  Parker said coldly from the doorway.  He shook out Darcy’s riding clothes and hung them by the fire. “If I ever hear you insult Miss Cargill or any member of this staff again, I will dismiss you on the spot.”

“Mr. Parker!”  She gasped.

“I told you I would not interfere with your household, but I will not tolerate disrespect.  You are entitled to your opinions, but none us need to hear them.”  Turning on his heel, he went back up the servants’ stairs. 

“
Now
are you convinced he wants nothing to do with you?”  Mrs. Duncan asked, and pouring out the hot mulled wine into thick mugs, she set them on the tray.  “Amy . . . carry this into the drawing room, keep them covered so they stay piping.”

“Yes, Mrs. Duncan.”  Amy nodded and carefully picked up the tray.

“She does not belong serving them.”

“Do you see any other maids about?”  Mrs. Duncan sniffed and returned to her cooking.  “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Shaw.  By the looks of Miss Cargill, I think they have that due date wrong.  She’s growing bigger by the day.  She won’t be here much longer.  Then you will have the Walkers back.”

“I didn’t say that I wanted the Walkers here.”  She said pensively.

“And Parker will be gone, too.”  Mrs. Shaw shot her a look.  “And Judy will be going with him . . .” Laughing, she went back to her stirring.  “I wonder which one you dislike the most, the pregnant girl or the lady’s maid.”

“Quiet!”   A bell over the door rang and she looked up.  “The front door.  I will get that, it is probably the post.” 

Mrs. Duncan watched her go and shook her head.  “Watch yourself.”

“THERE YOU ARE. Georgiana must be napping for you to return so quickly.  I poured you out some more cider.  We should drink it up while it’s still hot.”  Elizabeth sat down beside Darcy and curled against his chest.  He tilted his head and smiled, “You, love, look tired.”

“It must be all of the warmth.  Suddenly I cannot keep my eyes open.”  She looked up to him and they kissed. Elizabeth traced her fingertip over his lips, “Do you think that your attentions will keep me awake?”

“Well, I can imagine the irreparable damage to my ego should you slumber through them.”  He wrapped his arms around her when she laughed softly.  “Relax, dear.  Listen to the rain.” 

“More rain.”

“Hence the green grass.”

 “I am weary of rain.”

“A continual dropping in a very rainy day and a contentious woman are alike.”  Darcy’s lips twitched when one eye opened to examine him. 

“Are you calling me a nagging wife, Mr. Darcy?” 

“I cannot imagine you nagging me.  Arguing, however . . .” 

“There is a difference?” 

“Of course.  One is the annoying buzzing of a fly in the ear, the other is pure pleasure.”  Elizabeth had now fixed him with both eyes.  “Ah, dear, now I have you thinking.  Forgive me, love.”  Darcy leaned and kissed her, lingering to enjoy the fullness of her lips. “Relax.  Listen to the rain.”

Elizabeth’s eyes closed and she tightened her embrace.  “The pleasure of the rain . . .”

Darcy tilted his head and brushed her hair from her face, then watching her snuggle into him; he hugged her and picked up the letter lying on his lap. 

10 April, 1812

Matlock House

London

Dear Darcy,

It is done, as you supposed, Bertie married Anne.  I am content with the decision at last.  In an odd way, I think that he will do well living in that cold manor with those two stubborn women.  It gives him a tolerable purpose, and without question it benefits us all, far more than your union with her would have brought.  As always, you were correct when you made the unquestioned excellent decision to marry Elizabeth.  By the way, please be sure to show her that sentence, would you?  I am trying to remain on her right side, there’s a good man. 

It was a simple service, just the family, and of course Collins and his wife.  Mrs. Collins seems to have settled into her place as the pastor’s wife comfortably.  She is obviously quite young and still quite naive, but very earnest and sincere.   I took it upon myself to stroll down to the parsonage and renew our admittedly passing acquaintance in order to pass on news of visiting with her sister.  There, yet another reason for Mrs. Darcy to think well of me! 

Mrs. Collins was very grateful to hear from Mrs. Darcy, and of course I expressed regret for having no letter to deliver, after all, I hardly knew that I was coming, but I was glad to describe the happiness between the two of you.  When Mr. Collins left the room momentarily on some errand, she quietly assured me of her happiness as well.  I wondered why she would not state such happy feelings before her husband, until he returned.  Up until then he had managed to contain his effusions, but upon resuming his seat, his mouth opened with such a litany of praise for his wife, his patroness, her daughter, my brother, the Fitzwilliam family in general, the Darcys and lastly, the Bennets, that Mrs. Collins was forced to drop all pretence of behaving in the meek manner of a properly submissive wife and batted him down.  It nigh well reminded me a bit of your Elizabeth.  Although the quickness of her wit was not a quarter as sharp, and certainly not as charmingly delivered, I daresay that Mrs. Collins can draw upon an appropriate verse from the Bible to suit any occasion in the blink of an eye.
 

Darcy chuckled and looked down at Elizabeth’s peaceful face.  “No, Mary is not you, love.  But I do believe she can handle her husband and in time, Longbourn.”  Wrapping a curl around his finger, he returned to the letter.

May I thank you again for the work you are doing on our behalf?  Pemberley and Sommerwald are enough, but Rosings, Matlock, and Gladney, and I am certain you have Longbourn in the mix as well.  How do you manage everything?  I suppose this is where you would demur and mirror your brother Collins in singing your wife’s praises for taking on you and Georgiana.  I would love to sing your praises to the family, but besides the obvious secret we must guard, I know that you hate recognition of that sort.  Just know that the few who do know appreciate the efforts you extend.

I have included a copy of a little agreement that Bertie signed, essentially promising to leave Gladney and Matlock alone.  Father signed off on it, and suggested that we show it to Easterly.  He was careful not to express amusement at our optimistic pledges, but I suppose he has been around the horn enough times to not put much faith behind promises, particularly ones made by a reformed opium addict.  In any case, it gives me the confidence I need to move forward.  Therefore, Cousin, this is your warning.  I will, given my horse’s willingness to bear me and my new wardrobe as well as a supply of the best chocolate I can find, be on your doorstep by months’ end, if not sooner.  Leaving London has proven more difficult than I thought, but then, that is a story for another day.  Thank you again for everything.  I will see you sooner that you would probably like.

Give my love to Elizabeth and Georgiana.

Your brother,

The Honourable Richard Fitzwilliam

“So, a man in uniform no more.”  Darcy could read between the lines, Richard was nervous but determined.  “He wrote this on the tenth, today is the seventeenth . . . He will probably stop at Gladney on the way up to speak to his steward . . .  Rubbing his jaw, Darcy stared out at the rain.  “I predict that he will arrive within a fortnight. Then . . . let the games begin.  I wonder what the Kelly family will make of him.”  He looked back to the letter.  “Chocolate . . . a nice touch!”

“mmm . . . chocolate.”  Elizabeth murmured and snuggled in closer. 

Darcy smiled softly.  “You are craving chocolate, dearest?”  He whispered.  “You have not craved that since . . .” Darcy’s brow creased.  “February, when you last . . .” His mouth opened and he stared.  “Oh my . . .” He looked at where his hand rested on her waist and licked his lips.  “Do not get excited, Darcy.”  He said determinedly as he eyed his wife, searching for any changes in her body.  “No . . . no it . . . it could be anything, Lord knows we have suffered enough stress . . .” Biting his lip, he leaned down and tenderly kissed her.  “You will tell me when you know, love.”  Closing his eyes, he said a prayer, and then determinedly returned to the pile of letters by his side, blinking back the emotion that brightened his eyes.  “Look at me, I do not even know and I am a nutter already.”  The little smile lifted his lips, and the letters dropped to the floor. 

Elizabeth opened her eyes and she reached up to stroke his cheek.  “Is something wrong, Will?” 

Taking her hand, he kissed her fingers.  “It is nothing, love.”  He watched her eyes blink closed again and whispered as he kissed her ring.  “Or it may be something wonderful.” 

Chapter 10

“H
ow’s business?”  The tobacconist asked as Mr. Gardiner browsed the selection of cigars on display. 

“Not bad.  But I need a few more bribes for the men at the docks . . .” He picked up a bundle and winking, set it down on the counter.  “It’s amazing what a small investment can do. I always seem to get to the best crates first.”

“Then buy two dozen!”  The man laughed and wrapped up the purchase.  “They are just smoking the tobacco they are unloading from the ships.  Anything for yourself?”

“hmm.”   He wandered around and shook his head, stopping in front of a display of cleverly crafted clay pipes.  “I remember my mother smoking one of these.” 

“Ah, a cup of tea and a nice bowl.”  He waved his hand.  “That was my mother.”

Mr. Gardiner smiled and looked over his shoulder.  “Of course the ladies will not admit to it now.”

“You would be surprised, well not in public so much, but in the home . . .” He nodded knowingly and looked at him expectantly. 

“No.  My wife objects to the smell, the mess . . .  She is hoping to rise above the crowd a bit for our children’s sakes.” He smiled fondly and put the pipe back.  “I will keep with my port.”   

“I guarantee you that the gentry will be smoking cigars just as we do soon enough.  Then what will your wife do about her objections?”  He tapped his nose when Mr. Gardiner shook his head.  “How is Mrs. Gardiner?”

“Excellent.  She is quite excited about the trip we plan to take to the Lake District this summer.  If we can, that is.  I suppose that it depends on my business and the state of our mourning.”

“I am sorry to hear that . . .”

“My sister’s husband.” 

“That’s only a week or two in black for you, that should not hold you up.”  Finishing the packaging, he looked at Mr. Gardiner expectantly.  “When do you expect him to go?”

He sighed and opened his purse.  “It will be any time now, I am afraid.  I hope that we do get in our trip, our children were to stay there, but if their home is too disrupted, we may not be able to leave them.”  Counting out the money, he held it out to the shopkeeper.  “We are hoping to visit our niece, she married a gentleman and his estate is in Derbyshire.”

“Is it a grand estate?”  He took the coins and dropped them in the till box, and then leaned on the counter. 

“Pemberley.  It has been owned by the Darcys for generations, hundreds of years.”

“Darcy.”  The man screwed up his eyes.  “I’ve heard that name.”

“Oh?  Well there is surely more than one family of them in the world.  I cannot see my nephew spending time in Cheapside.”  He smiled, “Not without his wife, anyway.”