Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
APRIL AND MAY
O nly a curricle designed so thoughtfully could have pulled me out of my stubborn resistance to driving again. The Swift was even jauntier than the Zephyr and because she had been bespoken by a man who could afford any nonsense, Mr Tomlinson had built her to last.
I sat on the leather seat, cushioned with a generous horsehair pad and noticed how well-proportioned it was for someone of my size. And I had thought the Zephyr was stylish!
I admired the Swift most liberally and thanked the proud maker repeatedly. But once he had gone, I turned to Mr Darcy to playfully scold him.
“I thought we agreed not to exchange wedding gifts!”
“Wedding gifts?” he scoffed. “Someone with your talent for hyperbole would argue that months after the fact, we have already been married for ages. Besides, this is merely a practicality. I cannot forever be driving you when and where you wish to go.”
“And may God forbid your coachman be inconvenienced,” I said, kissing him warmly in full view of the house.
“God forbid. But come, we must talk of your horses.”
“Which great beasts am I to have? Athena and Atlas, or Perseus and Persephone?”
“I had a notion you would turn up your nose at our blood stock, oh ye-of-narrow-judgments. I intend to hear no complaints about high-steppers and purebred equine nerves. Moreover, I refuse to put you in charge of racing horses or ambitious runners out of concern for my own, more human nerves.”
“Am I to have two mules, then?”
“Tempting, but no. We leave tomorrow for Derby for the horse fair, and you, my aspiring drover, may select whichever hoofed beasts most appeals to your heart.”
“If I were not silly with delight, I should be aggrieved to discover how well you manage me, Mr Darcy. Will you always outmanoeuvre me in this bumptious manner?”
“Ah. I think it is only fair, since it was you who taught me all there is to know about being moved about like a chess piece. Might I occasionally be allowed to say checkmate ? But come, indulge me, and let us have one of my high-steppers hitched up to take the Swift around the park, shall we?”
Thus, it came to be that I acquired two of the most beautiful little carriage ponies ever bred. Though they were well-tempered, they did not have the carefree dispositions of June and July. Instead, they were adorably dignified and so proud of their looks when they pranced around the lanes as if they were pulling a princess in her golden chair, I found them irresistible. How could I not name them April and May? Mr Darcy had laughed aloud when I told him how often my father had teased me by pretending not to remember after which months my horses had been named.
Not two weeks went by and I was equally in love with them as I had been with my first team.
I then drove freely around the estate that was now my home. I made friends with the tenants and learnt the names of all their families. I paid calls at the cottages and at the woodsman’s house, at the groundskeeper’s house, and the blacksmith’s shed. I even took Mrs Reynolds to visit the sundries shop in Lambton. Pemberley’s housekeeper was at first a little embarrassed by this familiarity, but she was also a seasoned professional. If this lack of decorum was what Mrs Darcy preferred, she seemed willing to sacrifice her dignity.
Time, I realised, would be required for everyone to settle into my unconventional management. I was neither so rigid I could not take a hint, nor was I entirely without my own opinions. We balanced one another and began to rub along surprisingly well. I supposed Mr Darcy’s delight in his new bride had something to do with everyone’s indulgence—from the scullery maid to the lofty Mr Parker. Clearly, I had come to stay, and perhaps more clearly, the master would not tolerate a single word against me. In short, I enjoyed a degree of support that sometimes stole my breath away. Could I love him any more than I did already? Each day, the answer was yes.
Mary returned to Longbourn, taking Georgiana with her. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been visiting his relations in nearby Matlock, came north to Pemberley and escorted our sisters back to Meryton. There, Georgiana had been invited to spend several weeks as Jane’s guest.
Very shortly after, we got a surprising bit of news. Sir William had purchased John a commission! This was shocking indeed, for John had never once expressed any inclination to do anything more than lounge about until such time as he inherited his father’s house and compensation. Besides, a commission was an expensive proposition!
Even more shocking than this development—and a little worrisome—was that after his training, Lieutenant Lucas would be sent directly to the Continent to fight the French.
“My lord, what was he thinking?” I cried over breakfast upon reading this news from Jane.
My husband, sitting across from me, put down his own correspondence and stared at me for a moment before replying with a grunt of scepticism. Upon the subject of John Lucas, he and I had not agreed from the beginning.
The mystery was eventually solved, however, when weeks later, Colonel Fitzwilliam again came to Pemberley—this time alone.
Over dinner, Mr Darcy asked what had brought him north so soon, wondering aloud at the leniency so freely given to him by his superiors. “At this rate, you will have been on active duty for only half the year,” he wryly observed. “It is no wonder this war does not seem to end.”
“I take that as a compliment,” his cousin said amiably, “since you imply that I am single-handedly capable of defeating Bonaparte. And what is more, if you expect me to complain about my freedom, you are perhaps drunk already.” He took a sip of wine and saluted me politely with his glass, before again speaking, this time in an altogether more serious tone .
“I came only to inform you personally that Wickham has died.”
My fork came to a halt midair, while my husband’s wineglass hit the table a little too loudly.
Seeing that he had shocked us both equally, Colonel Fitzwilliam politely attempted to change the subject. “Let us save this grim talk for after dinner, shall we, Cousin? I have no intention of depressing Mrs Darcy’s spirits. Of what shall we talk, my dear?” he asked, pointedly directing his question to me.
“Oh,” I said, slightly flustered. But words rarely fail me, and after half a second of searching for a topic, I said, “Do you remember my friend from Hertfordshire, John Lucas? I only ask because, much to my surprise, his father has bought him a commission, and he is soon to be sent to fight Napoleon.”
“Is that so?” he drawled.
He and Mr Darcy then exchanged a look so ripe with something unspoken, some hint that this was not an entirely welcome development, that it was now my turn to set my glass down a little too forcefully.
“What is this?” I demanded. “What is the intrigue behind these heavy looks? I can only suppose that you two have some secret between you with regard to John Lucas, and I should perhaps warn you that I do not like being left in the dark.”
After yet another glance at one another, Colonel Fitzwilliam applied his napkin to his lips and sat back.
“You are aware that Mr Lucas has imagined himself a likely candidate for the position of Georgiana’s husband.”
I chuckled. “Oh that. I myself told you he had fallen in love with her upon first sight. ”
“When I took your sister and Georgiana to Hertfordshire, I stayed with Bingley for a few days and suffered that pup’s harassing company to the point that I took him aside.”
“And said what?” I asked a little dangerously. “That as a product of Meryton’s gentry class he does not have the requisite breeding to suit your relations?”
To his credit, he did not soften his reply simply to appease me. “I merely pointed out to him that the gentleman who courts my ward must have some credit in the world. He must, in short, at least be a man— and that if he, a boy with no occupation, who had not even volunteered for the militia much less gone to fight for his King and country, ever had such thoughts, he would be sent directly to the right about.”
We sat in silence in the aftermath of his explanation until ultimately, my sense of humour overtook my irritation. I covered my mouth lest I laugh aloud, before speaking as gravely as I could.
“My lord, he must be wildly in love with her. Does she know it?”
He glanced again at my husband, this time almost apologetically. “She does not seem to dislike him nearly as much as she should.”
“Ah.” It was then my turn to apply my napkin, sit back, and offer an explanation.
“Consider that she is an heiress, that she has been pursued for her wealth, her connexions, her social standing, and talked of as though she were a fortune and not a human being. Along comes John Lucas, a blushing adolescent who is dazzled by her person and only vaguely aware of her material worth. I even had to explain the case to him in the bluntest of terms.
“Perhaps Georgiana would rather be subjected to his clumsy addresses than manipulated into forfeiting her fortune for someone’s advancement in the world. Perhaps it is his simple naiveté—his boyish confidence that has not been beaten down by the withering opinions of society—that most appeal to her.”
They both stared at me. Then, no longer able to contain a hearty chuckle, I said, “Brace yourselves, for she may believe this commission to be the most romantic gesture ever undertaken on her behalf, for she is shy—not simple. Georgiana will be acutely aware that words were spoken to warn him away, and his mad rush to become a decorated soldier is meant to honour her and to qualify himself to speak to her.”
The plausibility of my reasoning was unavoidable. My husband and his cousin remained glum for a few days, while I tripped about the house in gleeful contrast.
“You should not gloat,” Mr Darcy said to me from under the covers where we had been quite busy repairing our differences of opinion on the matter.
“And why not? Why should I not rejoice whenever an upstart nobody aims high and may yet win? You of all people should not complain.”
“She is my sister.”
“Do you indeed value her more than you value yourself? You married below your station, if you recall.”
“I married for love, if you recall, and that trumps all considerations.”
I pinched his nose. “If all this talk of good breeding and bloodlines does not relent, we shall have a peerage comprised of free bleeders and idiots.”
He growled uncharitably before pinching my nose and saying, “You mean as we do now?”
“I am only suggesting that a few strands of wild stock have never done anything but good for domesticated herds, but perhaps, not knowing anything about cattle?—”
“Stop talking, Elizabeth,” he said irritably. He then placed a hand over my mouth and began to plant kisses down my neck until he knew for a fact I had been silenced on that and every other subject.