Chapter 2
Although he agreed with Elizabeth in principle, Darcy did not expect that he would easily set aside his mistrust. He wished above all things that his children’s early years should be happier than his own were.
Not that his had been terrible, far from it, but in the main and most particularly after his mother’s death he had known little of laughter at Pemberley until Elizabeth’s coming.
His parents had been quiet, serious people, and most of his memories of carefree play featured his Fitzwilliam cousins.
Some, he acknowledged, did involve a young George Wickham, before he had set himself to push Darcy from his father’s affections.
They had, for a brief and distant time, truly been friends and companions to each other.
It had made Wickham’s many betrayals that much harder to bear.
In the night nursery, young George was flipping through a picture book of animals.
It was a volume Darcy recognised, one William had mastered by the age of four, and to see his nephew’s brow furrow over the simple words before asking the nursemaid to identify the picture for him tugged at Darcy’s heart.
That the boy did not strongly resemble his father was a source of some comfort; in fact, the lad’s likeness to his grandfather Bennet was striking.
The only reminders of Wickham he could find in George’s features were his long, aquiline nose and the way his smile began at the left corner of his mouth and spread to the right.
Little George regarded him curiously; although Elizabeth and their children had seen him more recently, Darcy himself had not laid eyes on the boy since he was less than three years of age and still a chubby babe in an infant’s frocks.
That occasion had been Lydia’s last visit to Pemberley.
Afterwards, she had preferred to stay with the Bingleys whenever she might acquire the funds to travel to Derbyshire, and Elizabeth had seen her there but he had not, for Lydia’s husband would invariably accompany her to enjoy the ease of residence in a wealthy household.
As such, the little lad did not seem to recognise him.
“Are you my mama’s brother?”
“By marriage,” he allowed. “Your aunt Darcy is your mother’s sister, and I was fortunate enough to secure her hand.”
“Papa says a married man is a miserable creature,” George said. “But you do not look very unhappy.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh behind her hand as Darcy fumbled for an answer.
“I think,” he stammered at last, “that your papa must have been making a joke. Marrying your aunt was one of the best decisions of my life, I am sure. At any rate,” he continued, eager to alter the trajectory of the conversation, “I am happy to see you again, George. You were very small when last we met. I expect you do not recall it.”
The boy shook his head. Elizabeth said, “But George does remember his cousins William and Jane, I think.” When George visibly perked up, nodding happily, she added, “Jane is old enough now for you to play with, so while you are here you will have two regular playmates, and I hope you will include your little cousin Charlotte when possible.”
They discussed for some minutes the delights awaiting him, including the fact that they expected several guests for Christmas, some of whom would arrive with their own children.
Elizabeth then sent him off with the nursemaid to have his hair combed and slippers put on before they took him to the day nursery to become reacquainted with his cousins.
“St Nicholas Day is the day after tomorrow,” Elizabeth remarked when George was out of earshot. “I shall have to get up a treat for him so he does not feel left out.”
“Did they truly leave him with only the clothes upon his back?” Darcy asked.
She nodded grimly. “He must have been in that suit since they left Newcastle. William’s old things are being washed.
They were musty from storage. We shall put George in one of William’s night-shirts tonight, and by morning he will have enough of everything for the time being.
Thank heavens for a well-stocked nursery, for he has no toys of his own! ”
“I do not imagine he is accustomed to having many.”
“No, not when his parents were so often short on rent,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “We may comfort ourselves that he is likely to be delighted by whatever I can lay hands upon in time for Christmas.” They had shopped for toys for their own children when last they were in London.
The nursemaid returned with George, tidy and shod, and they immediately escorted him to the day nursery, where William recognised him instantly.
“George!” he exclaimed. “Janey, Lottie, look—’tis our cousin George from the North!”
The girls regarded him curiously. Little George seemed suddenly overcome by the attention and, gripping his aunt’s hand, looked to her for guidance. She gently squeezed his fingers and turned to her offspring with a smile. “Children, your cousin will be staying with us for a time.”
“Good day, Cousin George,” Jane greeted him.
Charlotte attempted to parrot her elder sister’s words, though they came out as “G’day custard.” That made George giggle, and soon all the children were laughing.
“Go on and play with your cousins,” Elizabeth urged him, and he trotted off to join them.
William and Jane questioned him on his favourite games, astonished that he was entirely unfamiliar with spillikins and marbles, and had seen other boys play at hoops but had never done so himself.
They resolved immediately to teach him all their favourite pastimes and within minutes were engaged in a competition at marbles, with Jane on one side and George on the other, advised but not assisted by William.
Charlotte watched them for a short time before she became disinterested and returned to her blocks.
Elizabeth addressed the nursemaids quietly while the children were so happily occupied.
“Please let me know if any troubles greater than the usual sort of petty squabble arise between them. George may have some difficulties adjusting to a new household, and our children to the continual presence of a little-known relation.”
“Will they be able to manage four children?” Darcy asked as they left the youngsters to get to know each other.
Elizabeth laughed. “Mama had one nursemaid for all of us when we were small! Hannah and Susie should do well enough, and we have already arranged for additional help when our guests arrive for Christmas. Georgiana and Mrs Fitzwilliam will bring their own nursemaids, of course, but children become a bit wild at that time of year, so a few extra eyes and hands will not come amiss.”
Darcy chuckled. “Yes, Deane and Fitzwilliam and I were little better than savages when we were all together for Christmas, as I recall. We were better behaved in the summers, for some reason.”
“More time out of doors and fewer cakes,” Elizabeth pronounced with authority. She leant into him, twining her arm more firmly about his. “Are you feeling a little better after seeing them play together?”
“A little.” Even at a young age, Wickham had been clever enough to conceal his behaviour from Darcy’s parents. The servants saw some of it, of course, but not nearly as much as Darcy had.
“I think it unlikely that Wickham spent enough time with his son to be much of an influence upon him,” she said thoughtfully.
“Are we going to debate whether characters are formed or made again?”
“I do not see why we should, since we always end by agreeing that it is a mixture of both!” she replied, laughing, and he was glad to laugh along with her.
Too busy with her own duties to leave the estate the next day, and desirous of remaining near the children in any event, Elizabeth sent her personal maid into Lambton to acquire for her nephew some suitable items for St Nicholas Day.
George was quite clearly baffled by his cousins’ talk of toys and sweets, and there had been a tense moment when William laughed at his ignorance and George became upset by it.
Darcy had intervened before she could, reminding William gently but firmly to be kind, suggesting that offering his cousin the information he lacked would be a more gentlemanly endeavour than giving in to amusement.
When they were private together later, Darcy expressed a certain disquiet at his son’s response.
Elizabeth reminded him that William was growing up in a rarefied atmosphere and was too young yet to have truly learnt that other children were not so fortunate.
Young William Darcy simply could not imagine a home in which St Nicholas Day did not dawn with treats carefully selected by loving parents.
“And nor should he have to learn such a thing from his own cousin,” she added angrily.
“Lydia and Wickham could have spared a penny to get him a little something. They were not so poor as to make it impossible. I am ashamed to be related to someone who would not, in the turn of a year, sacrifice the price of a single length of ribbon to delight her child at the opening of the Christmas season! As careless as my parents were with our upbringing, we were all assured of something nice on St Nicholas Day—and at Christmas too. That he does not even expect a parcel of sugared nuts breaks my heart, it truly does.”
As she had comforted him the previous night, so he soothed her now, with an arm about her waist, a kiss to her forehead, and a declaration that young George would soon know what Christmas could be.
“Wickham had better come back just as rich as his wife intends he should, for George will expect a fine Christmas henceforth!”
She laughed but quickly sobered. “Do you suppose they will return? I find it difficult to imagine Wickham applying himself sufficiently to maintain a single address for a full twelvemonth, much less amass a fortune. I have no notion how they even intend to begin.”
Darcy let out a weary breath. “Those questions have been much on my mind today. I can only suppose that he has sold the commission I purchased for him when he wed your sister. Its value is not what it was during the war, but it should have earned him at least four hundred pounds, given the promotion I arranged for him in the year nineteen. Passage for the pair of them ought not to exceed fifty unless he was foolish enough to request one of the best cabins. I do not imagine he bothered to discharge his debts in Newcastle, so we may assume they have three hundred and fifty pounds, at a minimum, with which to establish their new life.”
“I recall he once spent four thousand pounds in two or three years without the expense of a wife.”
Darcy nodded, mouth twisting briefly into a disdainful grimace. “So he did. We must hope, for your sister’s sake, that there are few opportunities to gamble during the Atlantic passage.”
Elizabeth shuddered. “If they reach shore without funds, I cannot imagine what will become of them. Lydia has placed herself beyond the reach of timely assistance.” She shook her head.
“I doubt she accompanies him at his suggestion—more likely she insisted upon being part of something she saw as a great adventure. I wonder whether he originally conceived of the scheme to rid himself of his obligations, only to be thwarted by her stubbornness and thirst for novelty.”
“I would not be at all surprised,” Darcy agreed.
“Come, my dear, let us retire. Worrying yourself about your sister will help neither you nor her. The Christmas season is upon us, and we should enjoy it. Next month we shall give serious consideration to George’s future—that is something we can do, and he is likely to be dependent upon his relations for some time to come. ”
“Well, I am not very tired, but I could be persuaded to retire early,” she suggested with a smile.
Darcy had learnt some powers of persuasion over the past decade, and he put them to very good use indeed.
George was utterly enthralled by his general.
Pemberley’s nursery was supplied with enough toy soldiers to put several boys at the head of their own armies, and William had received his very own general several Christmases past, a splendid little fellow in a painted red coat.
Elizabeth’s maid had selected one in blue, and as she watched on the morning of St Nicholas Day, her dear husband explained to both boys that George’s general was Prussian, as indicated by his blue coat, high red collar, and grey trousers.
“Splendid fighters, those Prussians,” he told the wide-eyed lads.
“Fitzwilliam said we should not have defeated Bonaparte without them, and he would know better than most.” To George, he added, “My cousin General Fitzwilliam served in the war against France. He will be with us for Christmas and loves to tell stories of his battles.”
Darcy sent Elizabeth a smiling glance, and she rewarded him with a grin.
Fitzwilliam remained Darcy’s closest friend and relation and was a particular favourite of the boys in the family, who seemed to regard him as a cross between a jolly friend and a benevolent god.
His war stories were, of course, carefully tailored for little ears, full of glorious charges and bumbling, incompetent French troops.
The boys instantly began to set out their soldiers in two armies, each led by one of their generals, while Darcy was left to command the French battalion against which they arrayed themselves.
Although she was soon occupied in attending Jane’s tea party on the opposite side of the nursery and in ensuring Charlotte played her part, the exclamations of triumph from the boys and the groans of defeat from her husband told Elizabeth that the battle was proceeding more or less as history would have had it.
Two days later, George disappeared.