Memory: Volume 1, Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice)

Memory

A Tale of Pride and Prejudice

Volume 1:  Lasting Impressions

Linda Wells

Dedicated to Catherine and Tania

Bill and Rick

And to all of the readers at the Meryton Literary Society and Austen Underground, thank you for your exceptional support.

Memory:  Volume 1,  Lasting Impressions, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice

Copyright © 2010 Linda Wells

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form whatsoever. 

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead; is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover Images © Dmitry Mikhaylov (front),  Roger Asbury (back), David Kay (front Volume 2):  Dreamstime.com

Chapter 1

   
“F
itzwilliam!  Welcome home!”  George Darcy stood from the chair behind his desk in the study of Darcy House in London and greeted his son with a warm embrace.  Still holding his shoulders he stepped back and beamed.  “I missed you, Son!”

Darcy smiled and laughed.  “Thank you Father, I missed you as well.  It is so good to be home.”

“Well, sit down, sit down, I want to hear all about it!”  Mr. Darcy settled back into the chair and rested his folded hands over his ample belly.

Darcy took a seat, and although he had just arrived after nine months of travel on his Grand Tour and dearly wished to relax in a bath, he could not deny his father’s request.  “Where shall I begin?  You received my letters?”

“Of course, I imagine that I will continue to receive them for weeks now that you are home.”

“That is very likely.”  He stopped and knit his brow, slowly realizing that his father’s belly had not been nearly so large when he left, and looking closely at his face, he saw that his skin and eyes had a yellowish cast.  “Father, are you well?” 

The great smile faded and was replaced with resignation.  “I had hoped you would not notice so soon.  I believe that Georgiana remains ignorant, probably because she sees me every day.”  He sighed.  “I did not want you to return and have to face this.”

“What is wrong?” Darcy said urgently and sat forward. 

Never one to varnish the truth, Mr. Darcy simply delivered the news.  “I am dying, Fitzwilliam.  It began about a month ago, and now . . . now I am this bilious shade of yellow.  My liver, the physician tells me.”

“Surely something can be done!”  Darcy cried.

“No Son, I will not survive this.  I am resigned to that and in many ways I welcome it.  At last I will be with my dear Anne again.”  He smiled back at a portrait of himself with his wife then sat up and grasped Darcy’s arm as he saw the myriad of emotions fly over his face.  Denial.  Anger.  Fear.  They were all there.  “I accept that my time approaches, and I am grateful that you are so prepared to take my place.”

“I am not at all prepared!  How can I fill your place?”

“You know everything, Son.  You just have not had to draw upon your knowledge.  When you have need of it, all will come to mind.  I wish to die at Pemberley.”

“You will not die!!”  Darcy said desperately.

“Yes, I will.”  Mr. Darcy said calmly.  “I want to make the journey in two days.  I want to teach you everything that I can before the end.”

“Father . . .”

“Tomorrow our solicitor will come to go over the will and legal papers with you.  Your uncle and Fitzwilliam will come as well.  I have decided to give guardianship of Georgiana to both of you boys, not because I do not trust you or believe in you, but just to give you some more support.  Of course, you will be the primary guardian.  She will remain with you.”

“I do not want to hear this.”  Darcy whispered, staring at his twisting hands.

Mr. Darcy ploughed on.  “Son, there is more.  Your Aunt Catherine has already come to me, suggesting that it will be best for you to be married; to give Georgiana a sister to guide her since you will be so busy learning your new role.  She is demanding that you marry Anne, and claims it was a wish of your mother’s.”

Darcy’s head snapped up.  “NO!”

“I told her in no uncertain terms that I will not put such a choice to you.  Your mother never wished for an alliance, so when I am gone and Catherine undoubtedly brings this up,
Know
that no agreement was ever reached on this subject.  Of course, you are free to marry her if that is your wish.”

“NO!”

“Very well Son, I understand.”  He laughed.

“How can you feel such levity?”  Darcy said angrily.

“Son . . .”

“No . . . I cannot . . .” Darcy stared at his hands again, he felt powerless.

Mr. Darcy stood and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder.  “I need to lie down, and I think that you need some time alone.”  He squeezed and Darcy’s hand came up to grasp his father’s, and let go.  He heard the door close, and knew not how long he sat there, staring down at the floor.  A knock finally tore him from the thoughts that filled his numb mind.  He wiped his face and straightened.  “Come.”

“Sir, these letters came for you in your absence.” 

Darcy looked at the butler blankly and murmured, “Thank you, Foster.”  He sat down behind the desk in his father’s chair and drew the pile forward.  There were letters from friends, letters of little consequence, invitations, news, nothing truly important.  His eyes passed over to the letters lying on the desk, his father’s letters.  Letters of business, letters affecting the lives of hundreds of people, potentially thousands; the reach of Pemberley was enormous.  It went so far beyond the livelihood of the servants and tenants.  He swallowed and read an open letter, then picked up his father’s half-written reply and whispered, “I am not prepared for this.” 

Raising his eyes, their gaze rested on a beautiful landscape hanging across the room.  It depicted Pemberley on a summer day.  He had always looked at this painting with pride.  It was home.  Suddenly it was something more.  It was responsibility; it was his future, his ancestors’ work, his children’s security.  His gaze passed again to the desk where a miniature of his mother and another of his sister sat.  The weight of what was to come fell upon his shoulders.  “My God, what am I to do?”

He wiped his eyes again and slowly rose.  At least Georgiana was busy with her governess.  He would not have to assume a happy countenance for her yet.  It was still early in the afternoon, and it was sunny, he needed to walk.  Physical activity had always helped him to calm.  It was invaluable when he lost his mother, and it seemed as though exercise would again aid him through the loss of his father.  Donning his hat he found his way deep into Hyde Park, wandering blindly, just allowing the movement to keep the jumbled thoughts of fear and inadequacy at bay for a time.

Darcy finally stopped his pointless walking and sank onto a bench, dully watching the people pass.  The sound of a feminine laugh cut through the fog that surrounded him and he looked up to notice a lovely blonde girl with a gentle smile gracing her lips standing directly across from him.  He was struck by her resemblance to his sister and watched her, wanting to hear that warm laughter again.

“Lizzy, not everyone is as good a walker as you, please; can we not return now?”  The blonde girl pleaded, exasperation was evident in her voice.

“Oh Jane, we have been in London for weeks, and you wish to deny me this taste of freedom?  I have not been able to enjoy nature since we arrived!” 

“You have walked the park in Gracechurch Street every day!”  She reminded her sister.

“That is nothing to this glorious place.”  Elizabeth opened her arms, hugging the park with her gesture, and a wide smile appeared.

“You will never be a city girl, Lizzy.”  Jane laughed softly.

The sound of her laughter disconcerted Darcy, and he turned his head away from the first girl to take in her companion, a slightly younger girl, and so different.  Her hair was dark and her eyes were warm, dancing with joy and sparkling with amusement.  She laughed again and his heart skipped,
this
was the source of the musical sound.

“Come Lizzy, we should return to Aunt Gardiner, she will not be happy with us wandering off like this.  London is not Hertfordshire.”

“I know; I just miss home so much.”  Elizabeth said with a sigh.  “All that I like of London are the bookshops.”  Darcy smiled, he felt the same way.

“Do you miss Longbourn so much?”  Jane asked.

“I suppose that I miss my solitude, well, that is, the solitude I achieve on my walks.  I am enjoying meeting new people, but I truly miss just wandering off with a book and becoming lost in the words.”  Elizabeth looked around and smiled at the beautiful setting, then noticed the handsome young man.  She walked closer to Jane.  “That gentleman is watching us.”  She whispered.

“What gentleman?”  Jane whispered back.

“The one there, in the blue coat.”  Elizabeth, thinking that she would disconcert that man from his staring, locked her eyes with his.  Suddenly she could not look away from their penetrating blue. 
He looks so sad!

Darcy swallowed. 
She must be so young, but she is not dressed as a child, so she must be out, but she seems so young . . .
He was never good with approaching strangers, but he wanted to speak to her, very much.  She had said many intriguing things.

“Fitzwilliam!”  He started and looked up, tearing his gaze from Elizabeth.  Georgiana Darcy ran up and he stood to wrap his arms around her.  “Oh, Brother!  You have come home!  I missed you so!”

“I missed you as well, Georgiana.  How much you have grown!  How did you find me?”

“Mr. Foster said that you were in the park and I asked Nanny Kate if we could look for you!”  She said excitedly.

A breathless older woman finally appeared.  “Forgive us Mr. Darcy; there was no holding her back once she knew you had arrived.”

“It is quite all right, Mrs. Somers.  I left unexpectedly.”  He smiled down at his sister, then looked back to Elizabeth.  The two girls were walking away, and looking down he closed his eyes for a moment then lifted them back up.  Elizabeth had turned, and was watching him.  She gave him a warm smile, and he found himself returning it.  He watched her turn away and followed her as she and her sister disappeared from view.  Georgiana’s chatter recalled his attention, and he allowed her to guide him back to the house.

After finally ridding himself of his travel clothes and bathing, Darcy returned to his father’s study where he found the man bent over his desk, answering the abandoned correspondence. He noticed that his own letters remained, but were neatly piled in a corner.  He quietly took a seat and watched.  Mr. Darcy nodded and smiled, and returned to his work, steadily scratching out his response.  Darcy had a sudden vision that soon he would be the one with the burden to carry, and wondered for the seemingly millionth time that day if he was capable.

Finishing the letter, Mr. Darcy set down his pen.  “Son, you see before you the last piece of business correspondence I will answer.  From this moment on, you will take over this task.”