Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (22 page)

“Oh.”  He bit his lip.  “Really.” 

“Indeed.” 

Bingley noticed a clerk hovering outside of the office door.  “Mr. Gardiner, I . . . I seem to have taken up far too much of your time today, I should be on my way.”  Bingley stood and held out his hand.  “Thank you, thank you for everything.”

“I am glad to be of service, Son.”  He shook and watched Bingley hurry down the stairs and outside.  “There Martin, my promise is discharged.”

Standing on the curb, Bingley hesitated.  “Now what?” 

“Pardon me, sir.”  A woman’s voice came behind him.

Bingley turned around to find Abbey looking up at him.  “Miss Martin!”

“Mr. Bingley!”  She blushed and looked down. “I . . . I did not know that was you.”

“How would you?”  He smiled and laughed.  “I hardly have an advertisement on my back.”

“No.  Although it would lend you a distinctive air.”  She smiled up at him.

Seeing the basket on her arm, he held out his hand.  “May I help you with that?”

“Oh, no, it is just some food for Papa.  He tends to forget to eat when he works.”  She shrugged.  “Someone has to look after him.”

“That is very good of you.”  Bingley said softly.  “Miss Martin, I . . . I should have come by long ago and apologized for my appalling behaviour when we last met, I . . . I never behave so . . .boorishly.”

“I understand sir; truly, I was as much at fault.  I sometimes let my mouth run away with my thoughts.  I was embarrassed.”  She saw him nod in understanding and continued with a little more confidence, “Mrs. Darcy was very kind and came by to . . . defend your honour.”  She smiled and he chuckled.  “She was very subtle but made her points with precision.”

“Is that truly possible?  To be subtly precise?”  He fell into step beside her and they walked towards her father’s shop.

“Well as you are friends with her, you should know.  I imagine that you are familiar with her delivery.”

“Quite.  She is as skilled fencing with her tongue as her husband is with his foil.”  He laughed and looked up to the sign over the door.  “We have arrived.”

“Yes.”  She said softly.  “I . . . I look forward to our evening.”

“Pardon?”  Bingley startled.

“Mrs. Hurst, she sent an invitation for dinner.”  She tried to read his face.  “You are displeased?”

“No, no, no . . . surprised, I . . . I . . .” He smiled at her and relaxed.  “Pleased.”

“So am I.”  Abbey relaxed as well.  “It will just be Papa and me.”

“I look forward to this . . . when?”

“Tomorrow night.” 

Bingley laughed.  “So good of my sister to tell me.  Tomorrow night, then.  I look forward to it.”  He glanced up at the sign and back to her, then opened the door for her.  “Please give your father my best.” 

“I will, Mr. Bingley.”  Abbey smiled as he bowed. “Thank you.” 

“Thank you for listening to my friend instead of my bluster.”  He watched her pass through and closed the door, meeting her eye through the glass before nodding and thoughtfully walking away.

“I WILL JOIN YOU in a few minutes, Miss Bennet.”  Mrs. Somers said quietly and sent a look to de Bourgh who was listening intently.  “I am sure that the captain will use the time judiciously.  I will be just outside the door should you need me.”  Resisting his urge to reply, he nodded and focussed on Mary.

“Good Morning, Mary.”  He smiled and watched her cross the room.

“Good Morning, Peter.”  She walked past him, closed her eyes for a moment, and turned to take a seat beside him on the sofa.  “Tea?”

“Please.”  His lips lifted, watching as she reached for the teapot, and making no mention of how the lid rattled with the unsteady movement of her shaking hands while she poured.

“Cream?”

“Sugar.”

“Of course.”  Stirring the steaming cup with a tiny silver spoon, she lifted it, nearly tipping it over. 

De Bourgh’s firm hand immediately arrived to take hold of the saucer.  Their fingers touched, his eyes met hers, and taking possession of the scalding liquid, raised the cup to his lips for the slightest taste.  “Perfect.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”  Mary blushed and looked to her trembling hands clasped in her lap.  When she said nothing, he set down the cup and said in a slightly strained voice, “Would you like to know why?” 

“Very much.”  She whispered to the plate of biscuits.

“Because, dear Mary, you are like me.”  He took her hands in his and studied how they fit so neatly in his palms.  “We are both shy, both wistful, and both determined, protective, and strong when necessary.”

“You are a leader of men.”  Mary looked up to him at last.  “You are not the boy I have been privileged to know from your journals any longer.”

De Bourgh thought for a moment.  “It was a consequence of maturing, and wishing to do well.  Just as I believe you have tried to do all on your own.”

Mary’s eyes cast down with his compliment and she would not acknowledge it.  “I admire that about you.”  She looked back up to see his warm expression.  “Your confidence and strength, your vulnerability.”

“Those are conflicting descriptions.”  He smiled, liking how her words resembled his own.

“You are a man in conflict, I think.  Between your old life and new.”

“But I am not in conflict about you.  I love you.”

“I love you.”  Mary smiled to see his eyes light up.

“Why?”  He squeezed her hands and returned her smile.

“Because you are like me.”

“What is that, exactly?” 

Mary watched his fingers entwining with hers, disappearing so it was impossible to tell when one hand began and another ended.  “You want to be loved.”

“So very much.”  He said quietly.  “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”  She said softly and he moved to her side, smoothing away the tears that had appeared and tenderly lifted her jaw to brush her lips with his thumb.  Leaning closer, the warmth of their mingled breath, and the invisible pull of their realized desire drew them together.  Mary’s tongue appeared to moisten her lips just as his mouth fell upon them.  Gently he stroked, and feeling her response, deepened the kiss, not hesitating a moment to taste her.  Letting her face go, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, drawing her to his chest, never ending the kiss, just holding her, kissing her, lovingly, passionately, and thrilling when her arms naturally wrapped around him.  Tighter and tighter they embraced, melting into each other, until at last, he slowed, ending the kiss, and resting his cheek to hers.

“I have thought of kissing you for so long.”  Mary whispered.

“You have?”  He smiled against her warm pink cheek, then kissed away the steady flow of tears.  “Did I meet your expectations?”

“Oh yes.”  She sighed and he laughed softly.  “I hope for more.”

“Oh, I think that there is no worry there, my sweet Mary.”  He smiled and chuckled, happily kissing her again.  Closing his eyes, he hugged her to him, and they comfortably rested together.  “I feel as if we have been this way forever.  Why is that?”

“Similar souls.” 

“Hmm.”  Looking back down at her upturned face, he caressed her cheek and kissed her lingeringly.  “You have stopped trembling.”

“So have you.”

“I was not trembling.”

“Your voice shook, if not your hands.”

“Mary . . .” Her brow rose and he laughed.  “Do you know that you resemble your sister when you do that?”

“When she stares at Fitzwilliam?” She smiled happily.  “I do?”

“Yes.”  De Bourgh kissed her brow then sighed, “I have kissed you now, and I am lost.”  His mouth captured hers once again, and Mary, shy, nervous, invisible Mary, responded in kind.  De Bourgh started to laugh and leaned back to look at her.  “Am I to wed a wanton?”

“Am I wrong to want to kiss you?  Fitzwilliam made me throw away Dr. Fordyce’s sermons . . .” She was silenced by de Bourgh’s mouth.  Neither one heard the repeated throat clearing and warnings from Mrs. Somers, who had entered and was looking between them and the hallway. 

“Have you
married
,
sir?  Remove yourself from my sister immediately!”  Darcy’s deep and displeased voice boomed through the room.  They jumped, and Elizabeth turned her head to hide it behind Darcy’s back.  The sight of Mary and de Bourgh with flushed faces, dishevelled clothes and hair, and his prominent arousal made her want to laugh at their condition, while simultaneously chastising her sister vehemently for becoming carried away so quickly.  Darcy gripped her hand tightly but maintained his fierce gaze.  “Sir?”

“It was no more than ten minutes, Mr. Darcy.”  Mrs. Somers said worriedly, “I had just stepped in.”

“I understand, Mrs. Somers.  You may go, I am in charge now.”  He kept his eyes on de Bourgh. 

“Darcy.”  De Bourgh spoke as the couple quickly stood and he gasped, stared down at his breeches, shot a glance at Mary who had hung her head and was now staring with an open mouth at the fall, then looked to Elizabeth, who was biting her lip and trying to look everywhere but, and failing spectacularly.  Darcy looked to see where his wife’s gaze was centred and stared at her expressively.  Without a word, Elizabeth advanced into the room and took Mary’s hand to lead her out.  When they had gone and the door had been shut behind them, de Bourgh; now flushed and a bit defiant; sank back onto the sofa.  “Good Lord.”

“What the devil were you doing?”  Darcy cried.  “Ten minutes?  How eager were you?  What on earth did you say to her?”

“I . . . Damn it, Darcy I . . .” He sighed and held his head in his hands.  “Did you not kiss Elizabeth when you proposed?”

“Of course, but I also had to return to a ball.  We had a very emotional conversation; it was no simple request for her hand.  I had to work for her approval.  You know better.  Life on ship is no excuse from knowing proper conduct with a young woman you wish to marry.  She is an innocent, you must remember that!”  Tossing a pillow onto de Bourgh’s lap, he lifted his chin when de Bourgh looked up in surprise.  “I have no desire to see yours.” 

Placing the pillow, he shook his head.  “I am so embarrassed.  She was staring at it.”

“At least she did not run away.”  Darcy shrugged and at last let down his affront.  “Now then, you
are
engaged?”

“Yes.”  Relaxing at last, he smiled.  “Yes, she said yes.” 

“And?”

“And?

“I suppose that you
do
have Mr. Bennet’s blessing.”  Darcy acknowledged.  “And of course you have mine.   I would think a good long engagement would be best.”

“Long?”  de Bourgh cried.  “Why?”

“So that you would learn how to keep your feelings under good regulation.” 

“See here Darcy, I got a little carried away, I . . .”  He saw a hint of a smile on Darcy’s lips.  “You are mocking me!”

“Am I?”  He quirked a brow.  “Shall we discuss the wedding date?”

“Wedding.  You do move along, it has been mere moments since . . .”

“Did you not just object to a long engagement?  You know that wherever Elizabeth took Mary, that is the subject of conversation.” 

“Why did you have her leave?”  De Bourgh sat up and demanded.

“Because you, my friend and future brother, were indecent before my sister and my wife.  Would you approve of such a display before your sisters?”  Darcy raised his brows and stood to walk over to a decanter.  “You have to move gradually, de Bourgh, control your urges, introduce her slowly.  Remember she is following your lead and wants to please you.  This is your wife, respect her.  Surely you know these things?”  Darcy turned and searched his eyes and saw him nod.  “Good, I am uncomfortable with this subject.  How are you doing?”

He lifted the pillow.  “Recovering.” 

“Here.”  Darcy handed him a glass and they looked up when the door opened and Lucas appeared.  “Come, we are toasting the news.”

“You did it!”  Lucas grinned and entered, took one look at the pillow and started to laugh.  “Forgive me, but that is a regular state for me.”  Accepting Darcy’s glass he raised it.  “Congratulations . . .” He looked to Darcy.  “Who won?”

“Won?”  De Bourgh looked between them.  “You laid a
bet
on this?”

“Oh, several.”  Darcy smiled and sat down.  “Why are you so shocked?  You were laying bets on Lucas and Jane!”

“Yes, and I lost that one.”  He shook his head and smiled.  “What were the stakes?”

“A guinea or two.”  Lucas glanced at the clock.  “You know, Darcy, I think that I might have won.  I chose noon for the proposal.”

“I chose half-past eleven.”  He looked to his brother-to-be.  “Well?”

“Darcy won.”

“Damn.”  Lucas sighed.  “At least Fitzwilliam was wrong, he was guessing dawn.”

“The soldier in him.”  Darcy winked and laughed. 

“Now what happens?”  De Bourgh sat up and pointedly put the pillow back in place on the sofa, ignoring their chuckles. 

Lucas grinned.  “Leave that to the ladies.  You have done your part.”  

“REALLY MARY!”  Elizabeth sighed.  “How could you get so carried away?”

“Was it so bad to kiss him?”  Mary asked worriedly.

“No.”  Elizabeth looked helplessly at Jane.  “But you can now see how easy it is to become lost in the arms of a man.  I am glad that Mrs. Somers was there, and seemed to be stepping in.  You know what is proper, Mary, probably more so than Peter.  It will be up to you to resist the temptation.  We will allow you your moments, do not worry.  I certainly enjoyed many stolen kisses with Fitzwilliam when we were engaged; we looked forward to every one of them.”  She smiled and Mary blushed.  “You know that Fitzwilliam loves you and is just acting as your protector.”

“I know.”  She smiled and they embraced.  “I love that about my elder brother.”

Jane took a sip of her tea and glanced at Elizabeth, who sat back and squeezed Mary’s hand.  “Now, enough, we did not hear a peep out of you about last night, and I was hoping for a talk this morning.  Clearly something happened at the ball that precipitated this morning’s events.  You enjoyed yourself . . .”

“Oh yes.”  She said with the same faraway smile she had been wearing since she floated into the room.  “It was beautiful.”