Day 4 #2
Elizabeth laughed at her memories. “Had my sister Jane, or even Lydia, found their way into Charlotte’s kitchen, I am certain her acceptance of this pastime would have been considered quaint.
However, she was not keen on her second eldest daughter discrediting her place in society by enjoying kitchen work.
Once again, you can see how her fears have not held weight with our comparative prospects. ”
They crossed over a bridge before he replied, “And your other sisters? You do not share the same interests?”
“My other sisters? Oh no, sir. My youngest Lydia and then Catherine, or Kitty, who is just a year older, has no time for walks, books, or baking. Their heads are filled with officers as, much to my mother’s satisfaction, the militia has just been quartered in Meryton.”
“You are not excited by the sight of a red coat?” he asked, reaching up to pluck a leaf from an overhanging branch.
“I dare say, it is pleasant to have so many new faces nearby, but these officers go against everything my mother has ever wanted for us. They are young and struggling to live off of their pay. How could their circumstances ever encourage felicity in a marriage with so little prospect?”
Darcy’s brows rose at her pronouncement. “That sounds quite mercenary.”
She felt her cheeks coloring as she formulated a response to his teasing.
“It is not mercenary, sir. It is rational. I once believed that only the strongest love would induce me to matrimony. Yet, with the circumstances of my Jane…I see that I might not have all the choices to guarantee my felicity in life. Therefore, I will not lose my heart to just anyone but will take care to lose it to a man who can provide well for me.” She paused before continuing.
“Charlotte once said that ‘happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance.’ I do not wholly believe that to be true, but imagine if a man of good breeding and intellect were to present himself to me and was in possession of three thousand a year, I might allow my heart to be touched.”
“Even if there was no love?”
“I do not wish to risk the same fate as my dearest sister by the hands of our parents. No, a woman’s chances are too uncertain for objection but also too precarious to be picky.
You see, Mr. Fitzroy? Another good reason you have been blessed to be born who you are—the master of Pembrook in Salisbury. ”
“Yes, well…”
They continued their walk, taking in all around them when Elizabeth said quietly, “If I may…I am concerned about something I overheard Mr. Wickham say before you came upon me.”
He stopped and turned to face her. “Did he accost you?”
She blushed for his concern. “No, he was not aware of my presence.”
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said with great feeling, “know that if he ever hurts you, it will be the last thing he ever does on this earth.”
She was taken aback by his declaration. “Sir, I thank you. Mr. Wickham’s attentions are… But your presence has been a relief. This morning, I walked farther than I ought, and I should have brought a maid. I am only grateful it was you who came upon me.”
Mr. Fitzroy clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply before replying. “I have known of the man for many years and have witnessed the trail of his destruction. He is a man without conscience, and you should always regard him as such.”
“Of that, I assure you I do.”
“Good.”
Attempting to calm the fluttering in her heart, she said, “But I am concerned with Wickham’s intentions toward you. I overheard him say that you suspect nothing. I am uncertain of his meaning, but I know he does not take kindly to those he believes are at cross purposes with him.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked at the canopy of trees above them, a smile on his lips. “I can only hope that he is attempting some ill-conceived scheme,” he said almost to himself. “Then I could do something I should have in another lifetime!”
The high back chair was overturned, and the candlesticks from the nightstand rested on the floor by the window.
Shattered in the fireplace, a sherry glass, indicating her mother had once again contemplated their current house guests.
The woman herself was slumped across the divan, sleeping off the most recent effects of imbibing too heavily.
Anne de Bourgh shook her head with resignation.
What has become of our world? A world where George Wickham acts as master of Rosings?
This is a nightmare. But she could not change matters.
She was not yet thirty, and according to her father’s will, until that time, her mother was the mistress of her estate.
My estate that she is running into the ground at every possible whim of that man!
She closed the door behind her and moved down the corridor, past the master’s suite, which he now occupied.
That he would demand my father’s room! Then relegate Georgiana to a room further down the family wing?
Walking through her own bedroom door and locking it behind her, she removed her gloves and waited for her maid to assist her with her half boots.
Anne could not discern why with such a hatred for Wickham, her mother had willingly accepted his match with Georgiana.
Especially since it was rooted in such deception.
The open defiance toward her brother, the Earl of Matlock, had caused such a rift between the two families no one was left to protect Georgiana. No one but me.
Anne stood at the window and watched Wickham ride her horse into the stable yard, envisioning her shy young cousin with golden curls who she had played with as a youth.
Handing the reins to the boy, his fists flew, knocking the servant to the ground. Even the help is not safe. And there is nothing I can do to protect them. My mother bows to all of Wickham’s demands, and I do not know why.
Grabbing a book, she moved to the other window and sat in a chair, looking away from the stables, attempting to find a distraction.
Yet, all she could do was stare out across the fields, hoping for a miracle.
Then, a movement caught her eye. Mr. Fitzroy was approaching the house from the woods.
Darcy. What did my mother mean by calling him Darcy?
Studying both his approach and face, a strange sensation came over her.
She grabbed her spencer, before heading down to the stables.
“Mr. Fitzroy. Was your ride enjoyable?”
Darcy looked up and smiled before catching himself.
“Yes…Miss de Bourgh. It was. I cannot thank you enough for allowing me to stable Ulysses.” Guard yourself, man!
You almost addressed her as Anne. “Rosings has some especially beautiful animals,” he said, turning from her and rubbing the muzzle of the stallion Wickham had returned moments before.
“That is Icarus.”
“Icarus?”
“Yes, he is the son of my uncle Darcy’s favorite—”
“Daedalus,” Darcy finished for her.
“Sir, I am fascinated by how familiar you are with all things Pemberley.”
“Ulysses is sired from the same line as Icarus.”
“What a happy coincidence.” With a tilt of her head, she indicated the path leading to the gardens. “I was hoping to take a turn about the grounds. Will you walk with me?”
“Of course.”
They ambled along speaking of mundane topics, before hitting upon their shared love of books. “I fear you are wanting at the parsonage as Mr. Collins has no library, and therefore very little to occupy your mind at present.”
He laughed. “You are correct, but I have found other ways to occupy my time. I may attempt to visit the bookseller’s this week, although I am uncertain if they will have the book I seek.”
“And what is that?”
“Don Quixote. I, too, feel as if I am on an adventure where things do not make sense. I would find solace in the story and humor in Sancho Panza’s irony.”
“Then you must borrow my father’s book. No, I insist,” she said, cutting off his objection. “It is in my father’s study and has not been read in years.”
As they strolled, Anne pointing out places of interest, all of which Darcy knew well: the hermitage, a fountain, a sculpture garden, which began as a maze but was abandoned when his aunt discovered a neighboring estate had one two acres larger.
“You seem pleased with the grounds, sir.”
He nodded appraisingly. “Who would not? It is an impressive estate, and you seem well versed on the running of it.”
“My mother became ill only a year ago, but I had always prepared myself to run my estate. My uncle Darcy felt it was in my interest as I will inherit Rosings, and my betrothed will inherit Matlock House and the earldom. Two estates will take more attention.”
“You are to marry the viscount?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back.
“Yes.”
“And when is the great event to take place?”
He heard her sniff. “When the time is right for both of us.” They walked a little further before coming to a small pond, which enjoyed the benefit of the unseasonably warm winter weather. “My uncle Darcy was most attentive to me.”
“Did you know my father also knew both your uncle Darcy and Lady Anne? He spoke of them with fondness. I even visited Pemberley as a child.”
“Georgiana did tell me.” They watched as the ducks waddled around the edge of the water. “I am sure you heard my mother call you George Darcy the other night at dinner, Mr. Fitzroy.”
“I did.”
“I could not understand why at that moment she would recall him to memory. However, over the last few days, I have considered the occurrence. When did you last see my uncle, sir?”
He turned his head and directed his attention out over the pond. “It has been many years. I could not even say I knew what he looked like.”
The sound of geese flying overhead broke the silence between them, as Anne replied, “How interesting. Because you, sir, must see his face every time you turn to your looking glass.”
Darcy had been unsure how to respond, but luckily, they had been interrupted by a servant seeking Anne. He had followed them into the entryway where a footman had showed him to Sir Lewis’s private study. It was there that he was able to think.
What just happened? Did Anne actually hint she believed I was the son of George Darcy?
He was uncertain how to proceed with that line of thinking, and instead, found Don Quixote exactly where he knew it would be.
Finding comfort in the familiar surroundings, he sat on his uncle’s longue.
It was the same one he and Richard had been discovered hiding behind as children, having pilfered a tray of hot buns from the kitchen, before their ears were ceremonially boxed, and they were sent to bed with no dinner.
Richard. The ache he had suppressed returned and he wished for the guidance of his dearest friend. How am I to emerge from this world? Especially with no hope from my strongest ally?
His lamentations were quickly dispelled at the jiggling of the handle to his private retreat. He sat up and straightened his coat, opening the book to the second chapter when the door opened, and in walked Wickham.
“Fitzroy. Here you are. I have been looking for you.”
“Have you?”
“Yes. Anne informed me you were searching for a book, but I could not find you in the library, or Lady Catherine’s small book room. It was only with one of the servant’s instructions I was able to locate you.”
Darcy hid his open curiosity at the other man’s persistence, and instead drew him out. “And now that you have found me, what are your wishes? Do you hope to discuss my literary choices?”
Wickham smirked at the Cervantes novel and walked across the room to the decanter. He offered Darcy a drink, which was refused, before pouring his own and taking a sip. “I am not much of a reader, other than the scores at White’s.” After a moment, Wickham said, “I was impressed by your estate.”
“My estate?”
“Yes. You sound as if you are very knowledgeable in its running.”
“As all good landowners must,” Darcy said, curious as to where this was leading.
Wickham cleared his throat. “I was contemplating your words about repaying the gratitude which I had given the parsonage, and wonder…are you a man with vision?”
Darcy paused before replying. “If it is in the best interest of my home and family, then yes.”
“It seems to me in these times, we must change our habits to remain successful with our family’s holdings.”
Not necessarily agreeing with him, but curious to the direction he was taking, Darcy nodded but once.
“My good friend Gafton has been presented with a business opportunity in the West Indies. I think it might be something of interest to you.”
“This seems to be a generous offer. Yet, I would again be in your debt. How might that show my gratitude?”
He watched as the lines around Wickham’s mouth twitched before smoothing. “We are in search of a third partner.”
“You are?”
“Yes. Actually the principal associate. You would have the majority stake in the business.”
“And what would I do to earn that honor?”
Wickham smiled. “Why you would contribute the most to our partnership.”
Money. Always money. Darcy waited before responding. “I am honored by your offer but must contemplate the particulars. What sort of business?”
“I know a gentleman such as yourself would be averse to soiling your hands in the world of trade, so Gafton and I will handle the daily running of our investment.”
“I see.”
“You would be a silent partner, so your position is not besmirched by your association in business.”
“Yet, you are not concerned for your own reputation?”
“Not in the least. I am, after all, the son of a steward.” He took another drink and settled comfortably into silence, allowing Darcy to do the same.
“What would we be trading? Sugar? Tobacco? Rum?”
An almost imperceptible flinch crossed Wickham’s features but, with practiced ennui, he replied, “A more lucrative commodity to be sure. We will trade Africans.”