Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (55 page)

Darcy heard his uncle’s voice in his mind. 
You truly are the head of this family, and have proven it time and again.
 His sharp gaze travelled over the land.
 “I pray that I can do more than that.” 

AFTER A MORNING IMMERSED in the business of Pemberley House, Elizabeth settled gratefully into her chair in the library.  A stack of letters forwarded from Scotland had found its way to them.   There was a letter from Mary, another from her mother, and still another from Jane.

“Well, let me guess, Mary is complaining of Mama, Mama is complaining of Mary and Mr. Collins . . . Jane . . . maybe I will save her for last.”  She paused and looked at another address.  “Oh, and one from Aunt Gardiner.  Maybe reading hers will give me the strength to read Longbourn’s letters!”  She flipped through the stack again and paused.  “Lady Catherine.”  Elizabeth picked it up and biting her lip, tapped the envelope thoughtfully against her palm and studied the stamp pressed into the seal.  “What could she want of me?”  Deciding that she would rather not find out for the moment, she set the letters aside and picked up Darcy’s broken watch. 

Gently stroking the mangled case, she watched the gold chain spill into her palm.  That morning at breakfast he asked if she minded him riding out with Mr. Barnes.  They had enjoyed three blissful days settling in to Pemberley, and they would have loved to continue, but she knew that he had responsibilities to attend, just as she did.  She also knew that one word from her and he would have stayed home.  Finally she had simply told him that if they spent the day catching up, then tomorrow they could return to their honeymooning.  That at least slightly lifted the frown he was wearing.  “Not by much, though.”  She smiled fondly.  “I will have to think of ways to relax him when he comes home . . .” 

I will not be a moment
. 

 “Oh yes you will!”  She laughed and then the smile left her face.  His familiar promise was followed by his hand drawing his watch from his pocket and then a sigh.  It was lovely, it had been with him all through his days in school, but, it was not the same.  Elizabeth gripped the shattered timepiece tightly.  George Darcy had presented this watch upon his son’s return from his travels around the kingdom, mere days before he died.  It had become significant to their marriage in so many ways.

“And George Wickham destroyed it.”  She thought of the portrait of the man stored in her dressing room and resisted the sudden urge to burn it.  Looking up when Mrs. Reynolds appeared, she picked up two ledgers.  “Here are the books, everything looks fine to me.  Is there anything else that you need to discuss?”

“I have a list a mile long, Mrs. Darcy, but it certainly does not have to be finished today.”

“I would prefer to do it while Mr. Darcy is out and about.  When he is home, I wish to be with him.” 

“That is just wonderful, Mrs. Darcy.”  Mrs. Reynolds beamed.  “But you have had enough for the day.”  She looked at a clock.  “I will probably have to show the house soon, in any case.  We start receiving visitors on the hour.”

“Is that daily?  That must be quite burdensome to you.”  Elizabeth stood up and walked to the window. 

“Well . . . we are not used to the master being home in the Season when the tourists are about . . .”

There was a pregnant pause and Elizabeth realized she was being asked a question.  “Perhaps we can limit the visits when we are at home?   When I am in Town, I have calling hours.   I would hate to keep Pemberley from being seen . . .” She bit her lip.  “Perhaps from noon until four on Mondays and Thursdays?  We could modify it as we see how many visitors we disappoint.”

“That would be excellent, madam!” 

“I am sure that you and the gardeners would appreciate knowing when you would be interrupted.  Could you let Mr. Hayward at the gate know?”

“Yes, Madam, right away!”  Mrs. Reynolds turned and Elizabeth’s voice stopped her.  “Yes, Mrs. Darcy?”

Elizabeth looked at Darcy’s watch still clasped tightly in her hand. “Tell me; is there a jeweller or watchmaker in the area?”

“Well, nothing compared to London, madam . . .”

“But there is one?”

“Yes, in Kympton there is a man, Mr. Eurig.  I have him take a look at the clocks when they are slow.”

“Kympton.”  Elizabeth nodded, “That is not far to walk.”

“Walk!”  She clasped her hand to her chest. “Mrs. Darcy, surely you would not walk there!  It is three miles!  Mr. Darcy would have his heart in his mouth!  It is not a stroll in the garden or trip to visit the dower house!  It is quite rigorous! What would become of your appearance, madam?”

“My appearance?”  She smiled when she thought of how struck Darcy had been by her wild appearance after her walk to Netherfield, and how it convinced him she should be Mistress of Pemberley.  But as she watched her housekeeper struggling to keep her lips pursed tightly shut, another thought struck her,
but I
am
the mistress now, and it is not Fitzwilliam I need to impress.
  She heard her husband’s voice in her head,
We do not walk the streets, Elizabeth . . . It is not done.

“Mrs. Darcy?” 

 “Please ask that the carriage be brought around for me.”  Watching the woman bustle out with obvious relief, she shook her head.  “I have so much to learn.” 

MR. BARNES GLANCED over to Darcy.  They were riding silently away from the last tenant farm they had visited and were passing through Kympton on the way back to Pemberley.  “You heard an earful, sir.”

“Do you think so?”  He murmured thoughtfully.  “It took some coaxing to convince any of them to speak up.  You did well with that.”

“The tenants know you, sir, but the workers know me.”

“They respect you.  That speaks volumes.” 

Barnes rubbed his nose to hide his pleased smile.  “Thank you, but once they began they were certainly loose with their tongues.  I looked back as we were riding away from each farm.  Stunned was the expression on all of their faces.  You did the right thing coming out today.  You nipped some fears in the bud.”

“I nipped nothing, I simply listened.”

“Sometimes that’s all that’s needed.  The more sensible among them will see the writing on the wall.”

“There will never be an end of work at Pemberley.  Farming methods may change but I see nothing changing the raising of our livestock, if anything, work will increase with greater herds.”  Seeing a boy clambering up a ladder with a load of thatch on his back, he turned his head and nodded to his steward.  “But there must be something we can do for the children.  They are the ones whose livelihoods are threatened.  Some will stay home, but some will be forced to leave for London or elsewhere.  They should be educated.” 

Barnes waved his arm.  “Their parents are farmers. 
They
will be farmers.  And you do not need an education to be a servant.  What would you educate them to do?” 

“Read, for one thing.” 

“Who needs to read to run a plough?”

“But they will not be running a plough.  They could be operating a . . . steam engine or a train.”

“A train?”  Barnes’s brow creased.  “I don’t see anything coming of that idea, sir.”

“I hope that you are wrong, for my investments’ sake.”   Darcy smiled. 

“You want to teach them to leave you.”

Darcy turned his head and looked at him pointedly, “I want to educate them so I do not have to support them in the workhouses.”   

“Ahhh.”  Laughing, Barnes looked at Darcy admiringly.  “There you go.”

“Opportunity abounds for the young, or it will sooner than we think.   I prefer to look forward.”   They came along to the church and Darcy slowed his horse.  “I am going to stop in here, you can go on.  There is no need to wait for me.”

“Certainly, sir.”  Barnes saw his master’s imperturbably serious gaze had returned and touching his hat, rode on.  

Darcy dismounted and after tying off his horse, opened the heavy creaking door of All Saints.  Inside it was shadowed, save for the muted sunlight glowing through the stained glass and casting colourful patterns on the floor.  As his eyes adjusted to the atmosphere, he walked past the crypts of his ancestors and towards the altar where his parents lay.  Placing his hands over the cool stone, he read their names and closed his eyes to say a prayer. 

“You are grandparents now.  I wish that I was proudly telling you of the birth of my heir, but . . . someday.  Someday my dearest Elizabeth will give me a joyous gift.  I am so grateful for her.”  He wiped the blur from his eyes and whispered, “Your daughter and granddaughter are well, and I ask that you and Mother look after them.  Georgiana is determined to do well with this future she has been given.  I pray that this second chance will not be wasted.” 

He paused and biting his lip, closed his eyes again.  “Uncle is grateful for his second chance as well, but . . . why do I see so much pain when he holds Hope in his arms?   Why do I have such nagging thoughts of him?  Please Father; tell me, do I want to know the answers to my questions?”  Darcy bowed his head and stood lost in the thoughts and images that filled his mind.  “Elizabeth tells me to let the past go.  I endeavour to try, but that is a hard thing to do here, when I am surrounded by it.” 

He looked at the tombs all around him, reading the names that had been drummed into his head as he grew.  The stories of these people drifted through his thoughts.  Not all were good, not all were respectable.  There were a fair number of disappointing Darcys in the mix, like any family, but all were proud and a great many beloved.  “How will I be remembered, I wonder?”

From a pew a few feet away, Elizabeth watched.  She could hear his low deep voice, but did not catch the words.  When he became quiet, she arose and walked to his side.  Her hand on his back startled him.

“Elizabeth!”  His surprised voice echoed.

“I am sorry; I did not mean to see you leaping to heaven!”  She laughed as he stared with a delighted smile.  “I am sorry to interrupt your contemplation.”

“I . . . I was talking to Father.”  He indicated the crypt and smiled sheepishly.  “Obviously.”

“I was talking to Papa.  I have not been to church since . . .”  Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes and looked up when Darcy pressed a handkerchief into her hands.  “I am sorry.  I was fine when I entered.  What is it about being in a sanctuary that just draws out your emotions?”

“It is a refuge, is it not?”  He took the handkerchief and dabbed at her cheek.  Their eyes met and he took her hand in his.  Looking down, he rubbed her ring beneath the lace of her glove.  “Did you have a pleasant talk with Mr. Bennet?” 

“I was telling him the news from Longbourn.  I could hear him snickering, but perhaps it was a bird knocking on the glass.”

“There is a superstition that such a bird contains the soul of the departed.” 

“Then maybe it was he.”  She reached up to touch his face. “Did you tell your father of Georgiana?”

“Yes.”  He continued watching his thumb rubbing over her ring. 

“Did he send you a bird?”  Her eyes smiled and he laughed softly. 

“I do not think so . . .  He is more likely to send me a demon for what I have done.”  Looking back to the crypt, he saw a beam of light shining upon it. 
Darcy
was clearly highlighted.  He drew in a breath and gripped her hand. 

“Will?”  She followed his gaze and saw what he did.  “Curious, is it not?  How the light exposes your family name, and not the individuals?”

“The family is what lives on.”  Darcy murmured as his eyes travelled the ancient room and felt a sense of peace come over him.  He smiled and looked back at her.  “Pemberley is my life’s work, until it becomes my son’s.”

“Or grandson’s should we only have girls.”  She reminded him with a little poke to his belly.

“Of course.”  He raised her hand to his lips.  “Pemberley is my life’s work, and I shall do what I think is best to preserve it and help it to grow.  That is my job, right or wrong.  And then it will pass to the next heir to take on.”  He looked around and waved his hand, “And then
he
may carry all of these people with him.”

“It is quite a burden.”  She looked him over appraisingly.   “It is good that your shoulders are so broad.” 

Darcy stroked her cheek with his finger.  “You are my life.” 

Elizabeth blushed and looked down to their still clasped hands, “You have told me that.” 

“Now I truly know what it means.  Every time that I think I understand . . . you teach me something new.  It is just like when I thought that I fell in love with you.  I pray that I will forever be learning from you.”  He lifted her chin and their eyes held. 

 “I cannot begin to imagine what I have done.  Or what you are thinking.” 

“You taught me to hope, as I scarcely allowed myself to hope before.”  Darcy smiled and laughed to see her face.  “Is the violence of my affection overwhelming you, dearest?” 

“Why must you become so loving in a place where we are forbidden to express ourselves?”  She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. 

“Forgive me love, it was hardly planned . . . which brings me to ask, what brought you here of all places today?  At this hour?”

“I . . . I needed to have your watch repaired.  I cannot have you without it.”  Her eyes welled up when his expression softened.  “I need to hear it ticking . . .  It was like holding your heart in my hand and it was not beating.  That
must
be remedied.”  She said fiercely.

“Lizzy . . .” Darcy leaned down to kiss her and then drew her into his arms.  Hearing the sanctuary door creak open, they hurriedly separated and shared his handkerchief to wipe their eyes. 

“We must leave here before we are both useless sobbing creatures.”  She laughed. 

“Or clasped in a very unseemly embrace.”  Darcy chuckled when she tried to reach his bottom for a pinch.   Moving away, he whispered in her ear.  “What have you done to me?  An hour ago I was the staid master listening to his people!  Never am I so emotional!”

Her eyebrow quirked up.  “Never?   I will dispute that the moment we are alone in a suitable location.”