The Road to Pemberley (59 page)

Elizabeth laughed, shifting positions in the chair. “Well, my dear, you have not yet asked me to arm wrestle.”

Darcy cleared his throat. “No, indeed.” He noticed his wife's discomfort, and, making an attempt to avoid telling Elizabeth any more of his tale, said, “If you are ailing, Elizabeth, we can take this up at another time.”

“Not likely, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth's eyes squinted to show her displeasure, realizing her husband's ploy. “You shall not get out of
this so easily.” The housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, entered the library with a tray of tea and cake, and she set it down beside Elizabeth. “Thank you,” Elizabeth said and smiled warmly at the servant. “Oh, husband,” she said and sighed. “This child of yours likes to kick his heels at this very time each evening. Perhaps with such eager feet, he will find assemblies more agreeable than his father does, but for now he seems satisfied after having a little something sweet.”

Elizabeth took a sip of tea prepared for her by Mrs. Reynolds, and a small bite of the cake. Then she lifted her chin resolutely. “Pray, continue.”

Darcy smiled. “Where was I?”

“You were to attend an assembly in Lambton,” she reminded him.

“Indeed, that regrettable event,” he muttered.

Young Fitzwilliam Darcy stepped into his father's study and waited near the door. “Come in, Son,” Mr. Darcy said to his eldest child. “And how go your adventures today?”

“Quite well,” the boy replied quickly. “Papa, are we to go to an assembly tonight?”

A smile came to Mr. Darcy's face. “Indeed, Son, so it would seem. Your mother and your aunt have expressed a desire to attend such an event.”

“Might I remain home?” the boy asked, slumping into a chair in front of the large study desk.

“No, you may not,” Mr. Darcy said without hesitating. He knew his son disliked such social engagements, even at his tender age. Mr. Darcy and his wife had tried to do what they could to discourage the boy's taciturn bent, and they offered guidance when necessary.

“But Papa…” the boy began to protest.

“Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Darcy said firmly, “summer is a time for families to participate in local society. It is a time for young men to put down their books and learn the refinements that will one day be required of them. You do not have to like it, my boy, but you do have to participate.”

Mr. Darcy was a kind, patient father, but he was not always indulgent, and he expected his children to know their places within his household. A disappointed scowl began to emerge on young Darcy's face, until he thought better of any such display in the presence of his father.

“How will you know how to behave in society if you do not learn now?” Mr. Darcy inquired with a wink. “Besides, it is good to go while your cousins are present. They are very amiable young men, and you would do well to follow their examples.”

“Truly?” the boy wondered at the statement. “But if I am already betrothed, why must I need to know these things at all?”

“Fitzwilliam,” Mr. Darcy said as his eyes widened. “You must know it because I say you must; and as to the matter of a betrothal—I think it rubbish, my boy. You will choose your own wife .” Mr. Darcy added beneath his breath, “And, I hope, one with a little life in her.”

Young Darcy sighed, realizing he was losing a battle of wills with his father. It was a hopeless business, and he was fated to spend an evening bowing and affecting some sign of pleasure for the sake of young maids whose mothers pushed them toward the boys' general vicinity. He would loathe every excruciating moment of the whole affair.

Mr. Darcy stood up from his desk and put his hand upon his son's shoulder. “A country assembly provides good practice for the balls you shall attend in your future. You never know whom you will meet, Fitzwilliam. One day, you may meet the love of your life at just such an assembly.”

The boy's shoulders slumped forward in subjugation. “I imagine not, Papa.”

The Darcys and the Fitzwilliams entered the assembly room at Lambton to the great amazement of the other prestigious town folk. They were not often seen at assemblies, so this was indeed a distinguished occasion. Young Darcy moved off to the courtyard with the other boys, as their parents engaged in polite conversation before the dance. The children present held their own dance of sorts out on the courtyard, in the shadows of their parents. It was how one practiced proper etiquette at such functions and prepared to be ladies and gentlemen.

Darcy and Richard stood in a corner and looked on as Edward boldly approached one young lady to ask for the favor of a dance. The young girl blushed and gladly accepted, knowing, even at her tender age, what an honor it was to be noticed by the eldest son of an earl.

The whole business made Darcy's stomach churn. His shyness and reserve did nothing to recommend him to others, and some of the children thought him conceited.

“Wills, do you see a girl who strikes your fancy?” Richard inquired with a grin.

Darcy glanced around the courtyard, shyly eyeing the young girls as they all giggled and blushed.

“They are laughing at us, Richard,” Darcy whispered.

Richard smiled at his cousin, “They are not laughing, Wills, they are flirting.” Darcy furrowed his brow as he attempted to digest his cousin's counsel. Richard put his hand on Darcy's shoulder. “Think of this as a game. Surely, if it is a game, you can overcome a little fright.”

“Fright!” Darcy exclaimed. “You are wrong, Richard. Girls do not scare
me!
”

“Have it your way, Cousin. Look, there are two girls about our ages. I shall ask the one to dance and you shall ask the other.”

“Which one, the right or the left?” Darcy inquired, as the butterflies in his stomach threatened to bring him to his knees.

“It does not matter—come on.” Richard tugged on Darcy's coat sleeve.

“I beg your pardon,” Richard said and bowed gallantly to the young ladies. “My name is Richard Fitzwilliam and this is my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy.” Richard looked over at his cousin, who was standing and staring at the girls with a slight frown. He reached over and poked Darcy on the shoulder and Darcy bowed, as rehearsed.
The girls curtsied and batted their eyelashes in a way that would have made their mothers proud.

“My name is Mary Chaney, and this is my friend, Annabelle Martin.” Sweet Mary smiled at Richard, and Darcy let out a meager groan as Richard was overtaken by a rather comical grin.

“Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, Miss Mary?” Richard inquired.

Miss Chaney lowered her eyes and nodded her consent, much as a young lady ought. The young pair moved off in another direction, in polite conversation until the dance began. Darcy stood in front of Miss Annabelle Martin, alternating glances between her face and his own feet. Miss Martin was fair enough and not at all displeasing, but Darcy stammered and stuttered and his knees threatened to knock, nonetheless.

“Uh, if you are n-not otherwise engaged, will you do me the honor of a dance, Miss…Miss…”

“Martin,” she coached him.

“Miss Martin. Yes, of course.” Darcy wiped his sweaty palms on his coat.

“Yes, I thank you,” she spoke politely and took Master Darcy's damp hand. Darcy was instantly grateful for the delicate gloves she wore.

The music began to play in the assembly hall, and the adults took their places along the line. The children formed two lines of their own, in imitation of their parents, and the dance began. Darcy moved as he had been taught by his mother and father; all the while praying to the Almighty that he would not miss a step or accidentally tread upon Miss Martin's delicate foot.

To his own satisfaction, Darcy made it through the set with hardly a misfortune, and he was quite pleased with the performance. When he escorted Miss Martin away from the dance floor,
he noticed his cousins and friends were still engaged with their young ladies. Darcy looked at Miss Martin, wondering how a boy began a conversation with a girl.

“Do you attend Eton, Master Darcy?” Miss Martin asked.

“Yes, my cousins and I are all home on holiday for the summer.”

Miss Martin nodded politely and awaited further conversation from young Master Darcy. The wheels turned in Darcy's mind as he strained to think of things to say. At length, he simply asked Miss Martin if she cared to take a turn with him and she accepted.

They walked along the back veranda and down the stone steps into a small park. Darcy mustered his courage and took a good look at Miss Annabelle Martin as she strolled a pace or two in front of him. She was not disagreeable to him, and she possessed fair skin and pretty dark curls that bounced when she walked. He supposed those to be the qualities of a young lady that should attract a young man, and he was quite impressed with himself that he had actually taken notice.

“What do you do for amusement during the summer, Master Darcy?” she said as she stopped under an oak tree and turned to face him.

Darcy was caught off guard as his gaze met with Miss Martin's large brown eyes. His eyes wandered down the bridge of her small nose, which was lightly freckled in a rather fine way. Her teeth were tolerable, he supposed, and she had a comforting smile.

“Um, well…I…I read, and we have gone riding. We have been lately at the old ruins near Bristol Cross. Sometimes we run into Lambton from Pemberley to play cricket on the green.”

“I live near the green. Perhaps I shall see you there soon?”

“Per-Perhaps,” Darcy stammered and blushed. Then the two stood for some time, with a rather lengthy pause between them.

Finally, Darcy managed to say, “I suppose we should be getting back to the assembly.”

Miss Martin nodded and then turned when she heard her mother calling her name from the veranda. She quickly looked back at the handsome young man in front of her and before Darcy knew it, Miss Martin had placed a tender kiss on his unsuspecting lips, and then run back to the assembly room.

Young Darcy could barely move a muscle as he contemplated what had just happened to him. It seemed as if his heart had stopped beating. Practically every ounce of color had drained from his face, and his mouth had gone dry.

“Fitzwilliam!” Richard called out from the veranda. “Wills, where are you?”

Darcy turned around at the sound of his name, and on seeing that it was his cousin, called out, “Here! Down here!”

Richard came bounding down to the park, wondering what his cousin was doing out alone in the moonlight.

“Richard!” Darcy exclaimed as he began to panic. “That girl, she…”