Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (27 page)

“I suppose.  Now who else is approaching Charles?”

“Has he a nurse?”

“Charles?”

“The baby!”

“Of course, a nurse, a maid, he has more people serving him than I do!”  She grimaced and looked down at the cabbage leaves stuck in her bodice.  “I do wish my breasts would stop hurting!  I am certainly not going to feed that baby myself!”

“
That
baby is your
son
!”  Louisa cried and waved at the ceiling.  “And why do you not tell the staff to tend to him?” 

“He only wants to be picked up, and I will not have my child spoiled.”  Caroline looked at her with a sneer.  “When
you
have
your
children you may coddle them and raise brats.”

“What does Mr. Robinson have to say about your orders?”  Louisa said through gritted teeth.

“Until the boy is old enough to come and work with him, he will leave the parenting to me.”  She sighed.  “The work never ends.”  She picked up her tea, then paused to lick some sugar from her fingers.  “It is exhausting.  It will be so good to get away.”

“When do you leave?”  Louisa looked again at the ceiling.

“In a fortnight.”  Caroline sighed.  “I will be churched, the baby will be christened, and we depart the next morning.  You will be his godparents, still?”

“Of course.”  Louisa said quietly.  “Should anything happen to you, I want you to be assured that Gerald and I will provide your son a good home.”

“Well nothing is going to happen to us.”  Caroline sniffed and glared at the ceiling.  “Enough!” 

“I will just go up and look in on him.”  Louisa stood and went out the door.

“Do not spoil him, Louisa!”  Caroline called and pulled the bell to order more pastries.  “The last thing this house needs is a spoiled child.”

“DO YOU NEED ANY HELP WITH THAT?”  Susan looked over to Lydia who was struggling with making a French knot.  “Those are tricky.”

“I cannot make it stay!  It looks fine until I pull the thread and . . . Look, there it goes again!  What am I doing wrong?”

“Here.”  Susan patiently demonstrated the stitch.  “Now you try.”  She watched as Lydia carefully wound the silk around the needle and biting the tip of her tongue, pulled it through.  “There!  Now try again, make a whole row of them until it becomes second nature.”  She watched as Lydia plied her needle again and again, and sat back to nod.  “Very good.   You are showing much more patience than you used to.”

“I guess so.”  Lydia glanced at her and tried again.  “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”  Susan looked around the room, noticing that some girls were glancing their way and assessing Lydia.  “I was glad to see you sitting with some of the girls outside this afternoon.”

Lydia shrugged.  “I got tired of talking to myself.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“A little.”  She glanced up and over to a few of them.  “They were nice.”

“Because you were nice to them.” 

“I got a letter from Jessica yesterday.”

“Oh?”  Susan tilted her head.  “How is she?”

“She is happy in the north.  Her brother left a few days ago.  He is going back to London.”

“So that is where she was all this time?”

“I guess.”  Lydia said noncommittally.  “She did not really say, just talked about how nice it was to help her aunt now that she is having another baby.  Her parents were glad to send her there.”

Susan nodded and tried not to roll her eyes.  “I am glad to hear of it.” 

The girls worked in silence for several minutes until Lydia suddenly started speaking again.  “She said that she regrets running away.  She regrets encouraging me to be like her.”

“And how do you feel about that?  Do you believe her?  Do you regret not following her?”

“Oh, I do . . .believe her, that is.  And my sister Jane has talked to me and written to me about what might have happened to her if . . .if she had not decided to go to her aunt.”  Lydia glanced at Susan and bit her lip.

“Yes, so many terrible things.” 

“My parents . . .” Lydia stopped and then drove on.  “My parents, my father,  apologized to me for . . .not being . . .”

“Diligent?”  Susan suggested kindly.

“Interested, I think.”  She sighed and stopped working.  “Susan, how can you not like your baby because it is not a boy?”

Susan’s mouth opened and she thought quickly.  “Well, I suppose that if a family needs an heir to stay safe, they would be disappointed in him not coming.”

“But it is not the baby’s fault that she was born!  Why take out your anger on a baby?  Or ignore it because she was not what you wanted?”

“I do not know.  Look at King Henry the Eighth and what he did to his wives who did not give him boys.”  Susan put down her sewing.  “But I think that is something for you to consider, and wonder how a parents’ behaviour towards an unfavoured child would colour the favoured ones’ opinion of her.  And I hope that it will make you think of how you will raise your children one day.  Nobody deserves to feel unwanted just for being born.”

“If I ever find that I am to have a baby, I will be sure to be happy that it is coming.  Whoever it is.”  Lydia said with a sniff and went back to her sewing.  “That is what I think!  Then it would be a . . .family.”

“I like that Lydia.”  Susan smiled and gave her a hug.  The other girls who were watching noticed and smiled at Susan.  Miss Edwards entered the room and listened.  “I think that you are doing so well.”

“Miss Lydia.”  Miss Edwards approached and the girls straightened.  “Will you return here next year?  I would like to make my plans and I thought that you might do well to be in charge of a few of the new girls who will come in, as Susan has been doing for you?  She is leaving us and will be missed.”

“Oh.”  Lydia looked at Susan and bit her lip.  “I . . . I was thinking of staying home with a governess.”

“Hmm, well, when you decide, let me know.”  Miss Edwards smiled.  “I think that you might do some good though right here.”

“Really?”  Lydia looked between them and smiled.  “Thank you.  I . . . That is nice.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK OF IT, DARCY?”  Bingley asked eagerly as they rode away from Meryton.  “Seriously?”

“When is the man ever anything but serious?”  De Bourgh laughed.

“Give me a reason to laugh and I will.  Perhaps in a few hours when you greet Mary you will be in need of a convenient potted plant to examine.  Should I ask Elizabeth to embroider a few more pillows for you?”

“Watch it, Darcy.”

“Never challenge me, De Bourgh.”

“All right, now.  We will have fencing lessons tomorrow.”  Bingley laughed at the one glaring, and one smirking man.  “What do you think of the property?”

“It seems improved from the look I had with Lucas.”  Darcy shrugged.  “I cannot speak for the house itself, but as far as the land, I could see that the drainage is working, the fields are fertile from the look them; I like how the fencing is replaced with hedges, much cheaper and efficient.  By the time that you have fulfilled your lease, it might just be worthy of purchase, unless you find something else more to your liking.  You mentioned wishing to live near Pemberley.”

“I still do, but I suppose that is something I will consider whenever I marry, and take in my wife’s desires.”  He started to chuckle.  “I could hold out until Miss Darcy’s entrance into society.”  He felt the heat of Darcy’s glare.  “What?  You would trust your precious sister with a lesser man?”

“I will not joke about Georgiana’s future.  She is only fifteen.”

“And
when
did you first spot Mrs. Darcy?  She was just fifteen as I recall . . .”

“That is different.”  Darcy turned his eyes forward and spurred his horse on to take the point.

“He makes a lot of rules for others that do not apply to himself, have you noticed?”  De Bourgh called out and winked at Bingley.  “He can fall in love with a child of fifteen, he can kiss his betrothed for endless amounts of time uninterrupted, he can . . .” Darcy kicked his horse and galloped ahead.  Bingley and de Bourgh laughed and watched Darcy disappear into the distance.  “Touchy.” 

“Something is on his mind.  Did you notice him looking around Longbourn?”  Bingley said thoughtfully as the cloud of dust from Darcy’s mount slowly settled on the road.  “I think it is Elizabeth.”

“She has looked ill of late.”  De Bourgh nodded and regretted his flippancy.  “Darcy looked like the very devil this morning when I arrived, said he hadn’t slept a wink.  Worry over her, I think.  Was he this way with the first baby?”

“A baby?”  Bingley smiled.  “Really?”

“I overheard Lady Matlock at the ball.” 

“Well if so, yes, he was a mess.  He lost several siblings, four I gather, and his mother to childbirth.”

“Hmm.”  De Bourgh nodded.  “Well, that could be it.  He knows the risks.  I suppose that as his brother, I must cajole him to a good mood.”  The men road comfortably along, both lost in their thoughts until Bingley cleared his throat.  De Bourgh met his glance and raised his brow.

“I . . . May I ask you something?” 

“Certainly.” 

“I am nearly three and twenty.  You are . . .eight and twenty?”  De Bourgh nodded.  “Darcy is . . .six and twenty and married nearly two years, I . . .am I too young to marry?”

Surprised, de Bourgh studied him.  “Do you have someone in mind?  That was not the impression I formed earlier.” 

“No, I . . . Mrs. Bennet just reminded me of matchmaking mothers and . . . Oh forget it.”  He looked dejectedly down.  “I cannot consider the future Mrs. Bingley and her preference for living near London or in Derbyshire until I have lived in a home and feel comfortable being my own man.”

“Darcy wondered if you will become like us, fonder of the countryside than town.  I do not think that you will.”  De Bourgh looked him over.  “You enjoy the variety of the two, I think.  Perhaps when you consider candidates for the future Mrs. Bingley one day, you should take that into account.”

“So a country home is a place to entertain, not necessarily a place for living as Pemberley or Rosings is for you two.”

“Just a thought.  You will not really know until you take this lease and see which life appeals to you more.”  De Bourgh smiled and shrugged then looked ahead.  “Where is he?” 

Bingley laughed, scanning the road and seeing only the traffic of carriages and carts.  “Knowing Darcy, when he has a bee in his bonnet, it is best to just let him go.  He will likely arrive in London a half-hour before us and with a horse that will be glad for its stall.”

DARCY AT LAST RODE down Park Lane and ducking down the alley to the mews behind the townhouses, slowly rode towards his small stable.  He was greeted by one of the grooms, who took one look at the exhausted animal and raised his brow.  “I know, Joey, I know.”  He glanced at the carriage.  “Mrs. Darcy is home?”

“Yes, sir.”  The boy said quietly and turning, took the horse inside. 

Darcy tilted his head; usually the boy was eager to dispense opinions about one subject or another. 
I suppose that he figures I look like I have had enough for one day
. 
He looked down at his dusty riding clothes and felt the grit on his face. 
I will need a bath before I see Elizabeth.  She will not welcome a kiss from a filthy man.  Although, I am sure that she is eager to hear about the visit with her parents.  Perhaps I will give her a hint to mull over while I bathe.
 
He smiled to himself, imagining her standing over him in his bath and demanding answers to her questions, maybe even volunteering to wash him to get the conversation started sooner.  Walking through the garden he stopped to pick her a rosebud, one of season’s first, and opening the back door, walked inside. 

“Sir, you are home.”  Foster said diffidently.  “And how was your ride?”

“Very good, I have not had such a good run for some time.  I am sure to feel it in the morning.”

“Shall I call for a bath, sir?”

“Yes.”  Darcy looked at him.  The elder man’s eyes were cast down, and he seemed slumped.  “Are you well, Foster?”

“Quite, sir.  Thank you.”

“Where is Mrs. Darcy?”

“Abed, sir, resting.” 

“Oh, of course.”  Darcy smiled, glad that Elizabeth was at last sleeping after her restless night.  “Miss Mary?”

“She . . .is resting as well, and the Lucas’ have not yet returned.”

“Captain de Bourgh will be by later for dinner after he changes his clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”  Foster bowed and Darcy, his brow creased, looked after him then started up the stairs.  The house was oddly still. 

Something is not right
.
  He said to himself and walked down the hallway.  Opening the door to the master’s chambers, he saw Elizabeth asleep.  Smiling, he started to approach, but thinking better of touching her with his dirty hands and face, he closed the door and walked quietly into his dressing room.  Servants were already carrying in the buckets of warm water.  “You were anticipating my return, Adams.”  Darcy noted to his man.

“Oh, yes sir, Mrs. Darcy thought you might appear sometime in the next hour or so.”  He cleared his throat, and without looking at his master, began undressing him.  “Let me help you, sir.”

“Thank you.”  Darcy watched as each item was peeled away and listened as each successive bucket of water was added to the bath.  He climbed in and let the servant do his work, watching him as he moved around the room.  “Adams.”

“Sir?” 

“What the devil is wrong?”

“Sir?”

“Do not play coy with me.  Foster would not look at me, Joey would not speak to me, you are never so silent.  Has something occurred with the staff?”

“No, sir.”  Adams held out his robe and Darcy stood, slipping it on and watching as his fresh clothes were brought forward.  Looking over the selection, his suspicions grew.

“This is hardly attire worthy of dinner with guests.”

“I thought that you might wish to take your meal in your rooms this evening, sir.”  He held out Darcy’s drawers and stockings, then his breeches and shirt.  No neck cloth, no waistcoat, and no shoes.