Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (58 page)

“Ah, the Darcys strike again.”  He kissed her forehead.  “And what did she have to say?”

“Oh, news of Rosa’s latest, a permanent invitation to Pemberley, tales of Fitzwilliam scouring the country for an estate . . .” She peeked up at him and was relieved to see his fond smile.

“He is unstoppable.”  He chuckled.

“Jeffrey has invited us to stay if we grow tired of Matlock.  And he is making inquiries of the neighbourhood for possibilities.”  She looked up to see that his smile remained.  “It will be fine.”

“Because you are with me.  If we had not married, I would have taken the position at Sandhurst and soldiered on as long as I could.”  He rested his cheek on her hair and their embrace grew tighter.  “Well, I suppose that we are merely delaying the inevitable.  We should go.”  Lifting his head he looked down into her warm eyes.  “I love you, Evangeline Fitzwilliam.  I will make you proud of me one day.”

“You silly fool, I already am.”  She let go and took his enormous rough hand in hers, and looked over the calluses and scars that covered it.  “I would never have loved a plain old gentleman.” 

“No?”  He kissed her hand and entwined their fingers.  “Why not?

“Oh, they are deadly dull.”  She sniffed and led him from the dressing room.  “If a man is going to tell a story countless times for all of eternity, at least let it be of a more fascinating subject than shooting, and preferably rooted in fact.”

“Do you imply that my stories are embellished?” 

“No, I do not imply it at all.”  They stopped just before the door that led out of their bedchamber and looked back at it for the last time.  “So many wonderful memories were formed in this room.” 

“And they replaced so many terrible ones, for both of us.”  Fitzwilliam caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers.  “Do you remember your struggle to accept me, to accept change and to take a chance on the unknown?”

“I do.  It was such a difficult time, even though I wanted more than anything to just give in and say yes to you.  I had to work through all of my doubts.”

“Well, that is what I am doing now, struggling, even though my gut tells me that this is the right thing to do, my self-respect fights me.” 

“Then who better than I to help you through it?”  Evangeline kissed him, and when she started to draw away, he pulled her in for a longer, deeper kiss.  They finally separated and rested their foreheads together.  Hugging him, she whispered, “Annabel is waiting.”

Fitzwilliam opened his eyes and kissed the tear rolling down her cheek before drawing away with a smile.  “Well then, who are we to delay her?” 

“CAREFUL!”  Georgiana cried.  “Ohhhh, what are we going to do?”

“We need a board or something, something stiff to keep it from rolling up.  Maybe . . . maybe Matthews would have an idea.”  Kitty sighed as she looked down at the table.  “Think!”

Bingley poked his head in the library door.  “Ladies.”  They jumped and spun, hiding their work behind their skirts.  He tilted his head and smiled.  “What are you two doing?  Guiltily, might I add?”

“Are you alone?”  Kitty whispered anxiously.

He looked over his shoulder and down the hall and whispered.  “Yes.  Why?” 

“Well, come in.”  Georgiana flew past him and partially closed the door.

“I am all curiosity now!”  Bingley laughed and approaching the table, stopped.  “Oh my goodness.”

“Do you like them?”  Georgiana asked eagerly. 

“I drew them and Georgiana highlighted them with watercolours.”  Kitty explained.  “I am not that good, but I think that they kind of resemble . . .”

“Miss Catherine, do not discount your talent, I can see their faces perfectly.”  Bingley bent down and looked closely.  “I can hear the music as I view this.”  He smiled as he examined the delicate image of four men dancing with their infant daughters clasped in their arms; the nearest face was that of Darcy, smiling lovingly into his Rosalie’s eyes.  “It is absolutely beautiful.”   Moving on to another drawing, he smiled.  “Where was this?”

“Oh, that was Lizzy at Rosings.”  Kitty stood next to him and looked at it critically.  “I do not have her nose quite right, but Georgiana’s colours make her glow.  She was so different there, don’t you think Georgiana?” 

“Definitely, I remember her being particularly fragile, I am not sure why, but she is glowing like that again now.  It must be because she is so happy to be home.”  She stepped over and pointed at the tinges of pink that she used.  “She exudes happiness, have you noticed?  Well, when she is not sleeping.”

“Which is what she is doing there.”  Bingley smiled at the image of mother and daughter resting on a bench in the gardens.  “And this last, I think that I witnessed this scene.”

Georgiana giggled.  “I am so glad that you drew this, it is proof that Fitzwilliam is silly.”

“It is really hard to draw rain and water.  I think I will have to try this one again sometime.”  Kitty shrugged.  “But I think it will make them smile and help them to remember their walk.”

“All of these are wonderful.  They are so much nicer than formal portraits.”  He gestured to some oil paintings of ancient Darcys looking down at them.  “These are illustrations of their life, and I know that they will be treasured.  What inspired such work?”

“It is Elizabeth’s birthday.”  Bingley closed his eyes and inwardly groaned.  “Fitzwilliam has taken her somewhere on the estate for the day and well, we cannot really give her anything much, but we have been working on these in secret for weeks.”  Georgiana studied him and laughed.  “You did not remember, did you?”

“No.”  He sighed.  “And this explains where they are this morning.”  Creasing his brow, he looked over the pictures.  “When I came in you were discussing ways to mount these?”

“Yes, you see, they just roll up, and since we are working on our own, we could not ask for help.”

“I noticed a cabinet maker in Lambton.”

“Yes, he is not far from the pastry shop.”  Georgiana looked at him curiously.  “What do you have in mind?”

Bingley walked to the library door and opened it, and spotting a footman gave an order and returned.  “Roll up your masterpieces, ladies, and fetch your bonnets.  We are to Lambton.  My contribution will be the framing.”

“OH!”  Kitty and Georgiana cried.  “Thank you!”  Both girls ran to give him a hug before dashing from the room. 

Laughing, he watched them disappear, and walked back to the table where he looked back down at the scenes of the Darcy family.  “This is what I want someday.”  He glanced at the black armband and sighed.  “Two more months.”

JANE WIPED THE DIRT from her hands and stood, straightening her back.  “I think that we have made
some
progress.”

“Well.”  Lydia happily took the opportunity to stop working.  “At least we have pulled the weeds out of your sitting room.”

“Such devastation.”  Jane sighed and looking around, she found a rock to sit upon and stared up at the little cottage.  The vines were gone, the grass cut back, and a brand new thatched roof stood in stark contrast to the ruined building below.  “I wish that I could do more, but I do not think that this baby will let me.”

“If Robert catches you lifting something again, he will strangle you.”

“He was angry enough to see me on a ladder cleaning out the bird’s nests from the kitchen.”  She smiled.  “I wonder if Lizzy realized what a shambles this place was when she suggested it to Papa.”

“She has not seen it for years.  Why did you say yes if you thought it was so bad?”  Lydia flopped down next to her and looked up.  “Maybe you would be better off with a new cottage.”

“No, this is no mansion, but it is actually fairly roomy.  For what it will cost to refurbish, I think that we could build something new that was only half the size.  We might as well remain in Lucas Lodge then.”  She closed her eyes tiredly.  “It will be worth it in the end, whenever that is.”

“Do you regret Mr. Bingley or Mr. Harwick?” 

Jane opened her eyes to see her sister.  “No, not at all.  Why do you ask?”

She shrugged.  “Well, if you had married either of them, you would be living somewhere grand.  But here you are trying to refurbish this little house, and when it is all finished and furnished, you will not be able to just move in and relax.  You will have to work to live here.”

“I will have servants, Lydia.  I will not be doing the cleaning and the laundry.  I might have to do a little cooking and shopping here and there, but I think that will be very infrequent if Robert has anything to say about it, but I enjoy putting up preserves and gardening.  It is good to have occupation.  Idle hands are the devil’s tools.”

“Oh Lord, Jane, you sound like Mary!”  Lydia moaned.

“Yes, and there is Mary in her mansion with how many servants?  Idle!”  Jane laughed.  “Really Lydia, Lizzy and Mary have made spectacular marriages to wonderful men, and despite all of the praise and expectations that Mama heaped upon me about saving the family and making a match just as spectacular, the truth is that marrying a man like Robert is precisely what I should have expected all along.  And the best part is that we love each other very much, something that I do not think would have happened with Mr. Harwick or Mr. Bingley, even if I had given them a chance.”  She smiled when Lydia seemed to be considering that fact.  “Do not be surprised if the match you make is more like mine than Lizzy’s.”

“I suppose that is true, and when I think about it, I feel so much better visiting you at Lucas Lodge than visiting Darcy House.  It is just too much for me.”

“Maybe you should spend some time with Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and see what you think of their life.  Maybe you can enjoy the city, just a different part of it.”  Jane smiled.  “I can write to them if you like.”

“Oh.”  Lydia bit her lip.  “Do you think that they would want me?”

“Aunt Gardiner said how pleased she was with how you have changed when she saw you at the wedding, and she really appreciated how you helped with Mama.”

“Will you need my help?”  Lydia giggled and pointed.

Jane looked up as a carriage made its way down the newly cleared drive.  “Oh dear.”

“Jane!”  Mrs. Bennet stepped down and came rushing over.  “You are ill!  Look at you, covered in mud, what has become of you!”  She turned and looked at the cottage.  “You must put an end to this foolish idea right now.  Moving into this ruin, what was your father thinking!  I thought that Mr. Lucas was a sensible young man, but he has embraced this plan to move my girl out into the wilderness . . .”

“Wilderness, Mama?  This is not America, there are no wild Indians lurking behind the next tree.  We are just a little farther from Meryton than Longbourn House.”

“It is disgusting to know that you must eke out a living in this shell.”

“Robert is not working any differently than he would if we remained in Lucas Lodge, Mama.  He has not taken a position as tenant or servant somewhere, he remains a gentleman.  It is just a home.  Privacy is all we desired.  And when this is finished, we shall have it at last.”  She looked over the cottage and smiled.  “It will be lovely.”

“Why Mrs. Darcy cannot have her husband build you a new home . .  .”

“Because we are not their responsibility, and my husband would not accept it.  I admire him greatly for being as independent as possible, and working hard to care for his family.”  Standing, she straightened her skirt.  “Now, I am going to return to work, would you care to pitch in, Mama?”

“What?”  Horrified Mrs. Bennet stared at her.  “Jane Lucas, you will ruin your hands, and then nobody will believe that you are a gentlewoman!”

“She can wear gloves, Mama.”  Lydia observed. 

“Lydia Bennet, you are coming home, this instant!”  She took her hand.

“And leave Jane here alone?”  Lydia winked at Jane.

“You are coming, too, Mrs. Lucas.”  Mrs. Bennet shooed her daughters into the carriage, and Lydia leaned to Jane when they climbed inside.  “There, we were tired and now we do not have to walk home.”

“That was sneaky, Lydia.”  Jane whispered.  “But thank you!”

“WHERE IS SHE?”  Mrs. Reynolds cried.  “Oh if she is lost or hurt . . .”

“Go stand at the top of the stairs!”  Matthews ordered a maid.  “And do not move until she is found.”  He glared at Mrs. Robbins.  “How could you let her out of your sight?”

“She is just so quick!  I turned to pick up a doll and she vanished!  Mr. and Mrs. Darcy will be frantic!”

“Well they are fortunately in their chambers, so I suggest that we look everywhere before they appear.”  Bernard glanced up the stairs.  “How long will they be?”

“It could be minutes or hours, you never know with them.  Mrs. Annesley is with the girls, and Mr. Bingley went riding.”  Mrs. Reynolds said breathlessly. 

“If we are fortunate, we can find her before any of them is wiser.  Mrs. Robbins, from now on, pay attention to your charge and keep the door shut when she is in a room.”  Matthews looked over the assembled staff.  “Now, where?”

“She would be looking for her mama and papa.”  Mrs. Robbins said tearfully. 

“Study?”  They all turned and saw the door was closed.  Matthews approached and opened it.  “Conrad.  Are you alone?”

He removed his reading glasses and stood.  “Clearly, what is wrong?”

“The baby is missing.”  Matthews went around the room, looking under the desk, moving the draperies.

“Kidnapped?”  He asked urgently, and heard Mrs. Reynolds’ wail. 

“No.”  Matthews groaned and turned to Bernard.  “Wandering.”

“I will help.”  He put down his pen and closing the study door, joined the crowd. 

“Miss Darcy!”

“Rosa!”

“Rosalie!”

“Little love!”  Mrs. Reynolds called.  When Matthews turned to look at her she bristled.  “Mr. Darcy calls her that.”

“Whoa!”  Mrs. Robbins cried desperately.

Matthews rolled his eyes.  “Hmph.  Fan out, everyone.” Methodically, they began going through the rooms and at last Mrs. Reynolds and Mrs. Robbins came to the library.  “Did you hear that?”  Mrs. Robbins whispered.  “Listen!”

From somewhere in the room, they heard Rosalie’s voice as she talked to herself.  Relief flooded through them only to be replaced by cringes when the sound of paper ripping and a book being thrown reached their ears.  “Oh no!”  Mrs. Reynolds dashed inside.  “OH NO!”  A number of books lay in a circle, open, mangled, some with pages torn, and in the centre was Rosalie, now mouthing  a leather binding and looking up at the shelves.  She got to her feet and put her foot on the ladder.