Memory: Volume 3, How Far We Have Come, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (Memory: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice) (85 page)

Darcy took the cloth from her and quickly touching his eyes, reclaimed her hand, and sat watching Rosalie draw, oblivious to their observation.  “I do not know about you, but our little girl has made me feel better.  Are you well, now?”   Are you willing to leave here for home in a few days?”

“Yes, of course, we need to leave; we need to care for our babies.”  Letting go of him, she selected a piece of stationary and took his pen from his hand.  He coughed and was met by her innocent expression.  “Well that other one needs to be mended and you know that I am no good at that.” 

Darcy chuckled and took out his pen knife.  “You are quite talented at mending
my
pen, love.”  Smiling into her widened eyes, he touched the page before her.  “Who are you writing to?”

“Mrs. Reynolds.  If we are going home then I need her to prepare the house, and there are so many new things that Rosa can do, we have to protect her, and then if your family is coming . . .” 

Darcy sat back and listened as she went on with her planning, talking it out as she wrote and he whittled, then finishing, he replaced his knife and just watched as she worked, admiring how she was transforming before his eyes into the mistress of Pemberley.  He had seen it countless times and it never lost its fascination.  

“Mr. Darcy.”  Elizabeth tapped him with the feather.  “You are staring, what draws your attention?”

He smiled and picking up his pen, dipped it into the inkpot.  “The ideal Mrs. Darcy.”  He looked down at his page when she groaned and started to write, and within moments a little wad of paper bounced off of his nose.  “Your aim is improving.”  He said without looking up.

“Or your nose is growing.”  She laughed and he shook his head and sighed.  “Husband.”  Elizabeth whispered and smiled when his eyes instantly met hers. 

“Yes?”

“Nothing, I just love to call you that.” 

Smiling, he dropped his eyes and slipping off his shoe, rubbed her leg under the desk, and returned to his work.  “I love it, too.” 

Bingley’s head popped up from staring at his plate.  “I know that laugh.  They are about here somewhere.” 

“Charles, calm down!”  Louisa sighed.  “There is plenty of time!”

“We will have to tell Miss Martin how silly you are.”  Mary smiled.  “I know that it will please Lizzy to do so.”

“Please Elizabeth?”  De Bourgh grinned.  “It will please me!  You are hopeless!”

“I seem to recall you making a fool over yourself farewelling your future wife on her way to Pemberley!”  Bingley glared.  “Oh, and yes, I remember how you deflected my questions about an attachment.  Very clever!”

“I thought so.”  He smiled smugly.

“What did you say?”  Mary demanded and was greeted with the same smile.  “Peter!” 

“I was pining for you, my dear.” 

“How very sweet.”  Louisa laughed when Mary looked at him suspiciously.  “Do you ever pine for me, Gerald?”

He spoke from behind his paper.  “Every moment that we are parted.” 

De Bourgh chuckled and toasted Hurst with his coffee cup. “Born romantic, you are.”

“I have my moments.”  He dropped the paper and smiled at his wife.  Louisa blushed.   “How is our offspring today?”

“I would say he is doing somersaults.”  She sighed.  “It does not make for a comfortable breakfast.” 

“It will not be long.”  Hurst’s eyes were soft and he quickly hid back behind his paper. 

“Well the Darcys are having a grand time.”  Robinson announced as he walked into the room.  “Breakfasting on their own.”

“Where?”  Bingley demanded and stared into the hallway. 

Pouring some coffee, he settled into a chair and dished out some eggs.  “In the library.”

“The library.”  Bingley smacked his head.  “Of course.”

“They were preparing their travel plans, letters for the inns . . .”  Chuckling, he started eating.  “Miss Darcy was reading a book; well perhaps eating a book is the better word.  One of her own, I will point out.  Were you worried they had abandoned you?  Darcy said something of you apparently suffering a case of nerves.”  The others laughed.

“I take offence at that!”

“Then stop acting like a nervous suitor!”  De Bourgh prodded him.  “Miss Martin is nervous enough without you being that way, too.”

“She is nervous?  Of me?”

“You are rather intimidating.”  Hurst murmured.

“Me?”

“The way you tower above and frown at her . . .” 

“What?”  He stared.  “I . . . I am . . .no!”

“Poor girl shivers with . . .”

“Anticipation?”  De Bourgh suggested.

“Peter!” 

“Forgive me, my dear.”   He shrugged.  “I forgot my company.”

“Never do that, the ladies will always remind you of your mistake.”  Darcy said from the doorway.  “Well, Elizabeth has taken Rosalie upstairs.  We are ready to go.  Bingley, I thought that you wanted to get to church early?”  He made a show of looking at his watch.  “What is the problem?”

“Problem?”  He stood and threw down his napkin.  “YOU are the problem!  Disappearing, not telling anyone where you are . . .”  Darcy stood back and let his friend pass, his lips twitching.  The others laughed and filed out of the room, and joining Elizabeth, boarded the carriages. It was only a short trip into Meryton and soon they were outside of the church.  Darcy handed down Elizabeth and looked up at the threatening sky.  “The weather is in our favour, I think.”

“No milling crowd.”  She agreed, and laughed to see Bingley leap down and set off into the building.  “Come on.”   

Inside were the groups of gossips, and unsurprisingly the hum of conversation lowered considerably when the Netherfield party arrived.  Elizabeth held Darcy’s arm, and they both wore identical expressions, unfazed.  They nodded to whoever greeted them, but did not stop to talk.  Bingley searched and found the pew belonging to the Longs, and wasted no time sliding in beside Abbey.

“Good morning!”  He beamed.

“Good morning.”  She looked at him and started to giggle, putting her hand to her mouth.   “Oh my.”

“What is it?”  Looking over his appearance, he studied her eagerly.  “Is something wrong?”

“You resemble a terrier ready to play!”

“Better than a terrier ready to catch rats.”  He laughed and her eyes widened.  “Ignore me, no, strike that, never ignore me, just bear with me.  I have been anticipating church today with a fervency I honestly have rarely felt before.”

“Why?”  She tilted her head and smiled.

“Need you ask?”

“I think so.”

“You do not feel the same . . . whatever this is?”

She put her head down to laugh again.  “Mr. Bingley, your conversation is . . . are you always so . . .” 

“What?”  He leaned down and spoke softly.  “Incoherent?”  Their eyes met and he sighed.  “No, only when especially happy.”  Abbey bit her lip and he sighed.  “I beg you not to do that.”

“What?”

“Provoke me.” 

“How did I do that?”  She asked curiously and touched his arm.

Bingley closed his eyes.  “Lord, give me strength.” 

“Well this is certainly the place to ask for it.”  Darcy muttered from his side.  “Rein it in.” 

The minister stepped up to the pulpit and the service began.  Bingley took advantage of the moment to calm and peeking over to Abbey, he noticed that she was blushing.  Leaning over he whispered.  “You are doing it again.”

“You are doing it to me.  It is only fair.”  Mrs. Long cleared her throat and they glanced at her and grew quiet, until they all had to rise and sing.  She spoke to the hymnal.  “How dare you wear a coat that matches your eyes?” 

Bingley smiled and missed the next stanza, leaning a little closer towards the book, he whispered to her bonnet, “How dare you wear a pelisse that matches your lips?”  She gasped and coloured further.  The song ended and they sank back down to their seats.  Bingley shot her a glance and saw that her lips were pressed tightly together.  “Forgive me.  I am too forward.”

She waited for the minister to start the sermon and glanced at him.  “The other men who courted me were different.”

 “Tell me what you want, and I will be that way.”  His sincerity and worry were obvious.

“I want you to be yourself.”  Their eyes met.  “And I will be the same for you.”

“I will do my best.”  The sermon ended and they knelt to pray.  Lifting his head he noticed that more than one pair of eyes was watching him, and noticed Darcy’s raised brow. Shaking his head, he acknowledged his friend, and sat quietly for the remainder of the service.  When at last it was over, he stood and offered his hand to Abbey, and felt hers shaking.  “I promise you, I will be everything a gentleman should.” 

“I will try very hard to live up to your expectations of a lady.” 

Bingley smiled.  She
was
as nervous as he.  “Miss Martin, please do not worry, you already do.”  Stepping out into the aisle, he offered his arm, and followed the Darcys outside.  The eyes were no longer on him, he noticed, and the sun was shining.  “Oh no.”  He said softly. 

“What is wrong?”  Abbey asked and looking around, she sighed.  “Poor Mrs. Darcy.”

“Oh my, Lizzy!”  Mrs. Philips rushed up to take her hands, how are you, dear?”

“I am fine Aunt, and you?”  She smiled, Darcy stood behind her, one hand on her back. 

“I am well, but the gossip . . .”  She looked around and whispered.  “I am not sure what to say.  You have such a way about you, what do you suggest?  I had no idea . . . well I knew that your mother was not overly fond, but that is to say, when you married . . .”  She glanced at Darcy’s rather intimidating stare and back down to Elizabeth’s calm expression.  “I . . . I . . .”

“Aunt.”  Elizabeth gathered her thoughts.  “I would ask you to let the ladies know that Mr. Darcy and I will be attending the assembly tomorrow with the family and then going home.  Any opinions that we have regarding last evening or any other subject about our family are private.”

“Oh.”  She glanced behind her to see groups of women tilting their heads and trying to listen.  “Nothing else?”

“What do you expect?”  She smiled.

“Well, my dear, the opinions of the neighbourhood are quite . . . your mother is being ridiculed.  I am afraid that nobody will listen to her again.”

“I understand.” 

“You do not have
any
thoughts?”

“I spoke my thoughts to Mama last night, as far as I am concerned, the subject is closed.” 

“Mrs. Darcy.”  Darcy’s soft voice broke through.  “Our daughter is waiting for us.”

“Yes she is.”  Elizabeth’s smile broadened.  “We promised her a game of ninepins.” 

“We did indeed.”   He nodded to Mrs. Philips.  “Excuse us.” 

“Oh . . . of course!”  She watched them walk away and board the carriage with the de Bourghs.  “I will see you tomorrow, then?”  Elizabeth nodded and waved as the door was shut. 

She leaned back against the cushions and found Darcy’s arm around her.  “That was not so very bad.”

“You ignored them, dear.  And we did not linger.”

“How did it go for you, Mary?”  Elizabeth leaned into his arms.  “I am sorry, I was spending the service pretending to be Jane and serene.”

Mary laughed and was joined by the men.  “I was just being invisible; I found it was not as easy as it used to be.”  She looked up to de Bourgh and smiled when he copied Darcy, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to his side. 

“You are not invisible, my dear.”  He kissed her and she blushed.  “Not to me.” 

“I see a challenge being thrown down.”  Darcy looked to Elizabeth and kissed her gently. 

“Fitzwilliam.”  Elizabeth said softly.  “No betting.”

“On what?”  His eyes twinkled and he heard de Bourgh’s snort.

“On whatever is whirling around in that overactive imagination of yours.” 

Darcy sighed and hugged her.  “If you insist, love.  But you would have enjoyed it.” 

“OH MY DEAR LYDIA!”  Mrs. Bennet cried from her bed.  “Come, come sit with your mother, my nerves!   I hardly know what to do!  The cruelty!”

“Cruelty?”  Lydia had spent the last two hours travelling home with Kitty and Mr. Bennet.  She had been thoroughly briefed on everything, from Darcy’s decision to end the visits to Longbourn, to Elizabeth’s decision to end her relationship with her mother all together.   She was disgusted.  “You mean your cruelty to Lizzy?”

“No!”  Mrs. Bennet sat up and sniffed.  “I said nothing wrong!”

“You wished her a miscarriage!”

“I only said that one was possible.”

“You called her husband a servant?”  Lydia walked around the room.  “You treated her like dirt!  You always have.  It is not funny Mama!  What did she ever do to you?”

“Well . . . she . . .”

“She was born, yes, I know.  She is a girl.  Well so am I, so is Kitty!”  Lydia looked at the clothes strewn around and moving a gown from a chair, she sat down.  “What is the difference between your second girl and your fifth?  Should you not hate me?”  Hearing no answer, she sighed.  “I suppose that you spent the time that Papa and Kitty were away trying on gowns for the assembly?”

“Yes, look at that one, is it not lovely?  The lace . . .”

“Mama, do you realize that nobody there is going to care what you look like?  They are going to talk about how you have been claiming such false love for Lizzy and all of her accomplishments and that they dislike you so much that you are not welcome in their homes!  All of the people who heard you bragging over the beauty of your daughters are going to remember every slight you ever spoke about Lizzy and Mary, and who knows, maybe Kitty and me.  Everybody will remember how bitter you were about Mr. Stewart leaving and not marrying Lizzy, and how Mr. Harwick and Mr. Bingley did not marry Jane; and that Robert is not good enough for Jane, and Lizzy was not good enough for Mr. Darcy.   All of those little things are going to be talked about over and over, Mama.  You are going to be a laughing stock!”

“You are too young to know what you are talking about.”  She sniffed.  “I am the mistress of Longbourn.”

“And nobody cares.”  Lydia sighed.  “Too young, I am the same age as Jane and Lizzy when you put them out to marry.  I have learned a lot over the past few years.  I know what it is like to be ridiculed for stupidity, Mama.”