Day 9
The carriage passed rolling hills, and Darcy did all in his power not to stare at Elizabeth.
They had traveled a considerable way with the wisps of London chimneys seen over the trees in the distance.
The maid sent to accompany them was sleeping against the squabs, and Elizabeth was peering out the window, a look of contentment playing at her lips.
“I have never ridden in so fine a carriage. It was very generous of Miss de Bourgh to offer it for our journey.”
Darcy agreed. “And as my own townhouse is undergoing repair, her generosity knows no limit in offering me hers for my stay in London.” Although I still puzzle at her sly grin when the offer was extended.
“Are you pleased to spend time with your family?”
“I am,” she said. Her countenance seemed to radiate at this. “We are much closer with the Gardiner side than the Bennet. You have met my cousin Collins. He is an oddity and much like his father.”
“He and your father did not get on?”
“My father once told me how when he was a lad, he and Mr. Collins’s father decided to build a flying invention based on Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings.
They knew my grandfather Bennet would not be pleased, so they constructed the craft in a small cave in the woods a short distance from Longbourn.
They then waited until my grandfather was away in London on business to test it. ”
“What happened?” Darcy asked, leaning forward with his fingers clasped.
A mirthful sound escaped her lips. “My grandmother Bennet was out visiting friends in Meryton, and the two scamps dragged that invention through the woods and up to the top of Oakham Mount.”
“They did not!”
“They did!” she replied, grinning. “Father convinced his cousin to be the first to fly. He told him, ‘Collins, your name will be in the history books. I owe you that since you will never inherit Longbourn.’ How little my father knew.”
Darcy felt lost in the glow of morning light on her skin, and her playful grin filled him with pleasure.
“My brother Collins cannot be what is called a sensible man. And according to my father, the man who sired him was the same.”
“And the result?” Darcy asked.
“Massive injuries,” she replied more soberly than the onset of her tale.
“Mr. Collins suffered two broken legs and was unable to return to his own home for months. Forgive me,” she replied, covering her mouth.
“I am not unfeeling”—she giggled—“but my dear father is not one you would call sociable. He fulfills his obligations but is more comfortable hiding in his study and reading a well-cherished tome.”
“Your father sounds like a man I can understand. But why do you laugh at his natural traits?”
“You see, as punishment for his misdeed, he was required to read to his cousin every day.”
“That sounds like a blessing, not a punishment.”
“Oh, if only he could have chosen the books, his joy would have been endless. Shakespeare, Aristotle, or Galileo. But no. My grandfather Bennet made him read a popular book at that time. Fordyce’s Sermons.”
“Fordyce? But that is for the improvement of young women.”
“Precisely. So, you can understand my grandfather’s mirth. My father inherited his sense of humor from my grandfather—and I from both of them.”
“And was the young Mr. Collins not affected by the choice?”
“Not at all. My father said he was in so much pain that he either moaned so loudly he could not hear, or he had taken enough laudanum to put him to sleep. As intended, it was more of a punishment for my father than entertainment for Mr. Collins.”
His deep laughter hung in the air as they settled into a comfortable silence. “And I am certain you have never committed a deed which would invoke a severe punishment.”
“I assure you, I have, sir. Too numerous to count.”
“And your deed and punishment?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Fitzroy. You must divulge yours first. I have been doing all the talking.”
He reflected before replying. “I was eight years old, and a…playmate and I had fashioned ourselves pirates searching for buried treasure. As a reticent child, I was often led by others. This playmate convinced me to take my mother’s gold locket with her and father’s miniatures painted inside and throw them into the lake on the estate grounds.
We were to dive down like pirates and retrieve it.
I am certain you can deduce that was the last I ever saw…
” Here he paused. “Erm…it was never found.”
“That is terrible! And your punishment?”
“No, Miss Bennet. Not until you tell me your deed.”
She laughed. “Very well. At the age of ten, your school mate Harold Lucas, claimed that girls were not capable of catching fish. I stated that not only could I catch a fish, I could do it barehanded.”
He raised his brows. “Barehanded?”
“Yes. To my consternation, while reaching down for a particularly beautiful carp, I stumbled and landed face first in the water, ruining my best day dress. Mother was none too pleased.”
A loud laugh escaped his lips. “And now your punishment? What became of you?”
“That was not part of the agreement. You must first tell me the outcome of your unfortunate decision.”
He assented with a brief bow of his head. “Not only were my ears boxed, but I stayed home with Nanny while Mother and Father went on a planned trip to the seaside.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, that is much more severe than my punishment.”
He grinned. “I will be the judge.”
“Very well. For a month, every day but Sunday, I was sent to visit my aunt Philips to learn new embroidery stitches and to practice the pianoforte for three hours. Then, at home, I had to paint and draw until dinner.”
“I did not know you painted, Miss Bennet.”
“I do not. And therein lies the punishment, Mr. Fitzroy. I was not allowed to read from my father’s library, but all manner of fashion magazines were available for my refinement. It was a month of agonies.”
“I would imagine.”
“But the worst was when Mama discovered me reading The Faerie Queen and took it away. I have not found it still, and it was one of my favorites.”
“Of course. It is about your namesake. The illustrious Gloriana.”
“Yes, well, my mother had no love for Good Queen Bess. In truth, she was repelled by the idea I would be named after a queen who never married and instead wished to name me Juliet.”
Darcy almost choked. “Juliet? Why?”
Elizabeth sighed. “My mother…is not a connoisseur of literature. As you can imagine from my punishment, fashion magazines or the tattle of the ton are her passions. With no slight intended, her knowledge of the Bard’s Romeo and Juliet is that at thirteen Capulet’s daughter marries into a wealthy house.
” She pursed her lips together. “In this world, what one values, another sees as a trifle. For my mother, marriage for her daughters is valued above all else.”
He quietly contemplated his next words. “Miss Elizabeth, that is a truth universally accepted for mothers in every circle. Your own mother’s concerns do her credit. She merely attempts to secure the future of her children. No one can fault her for that.”
“I thank you, sir.”
He allowed the quiet to settle for only a moment and not become lost in maudlin thoughts. “And now, you must divulge where your name came from. It is obvious your mother was not successful in her attempt to saddle you with the curse of the Capulets.”
“I was named after my grandmother, Elizabeth Anne Bennet.”
“A much better choice. You are much too wise to be the heroine of that particular play.”
“And much too old.”
Their attention was caught by the sounds of voices outside the carriage and the immediate change of the road. “We have reached the outskirts of Town,” he said, looking out at the cobblestone and clapboard roofs. “We will be in Gracechurch Street in a quarter of an hour.”
“I have not visited in some time.”
“Well, I hope your visit is a pleasant one.”
“Pleasant is not quite the term. By the end of tomorrow evening, I will have walked through three parks, read countless fairy tales to the children, and listened to several new recitations. It is not pleasant. It is marvelous.”
He watched the light dance in her eyes and was reminded not for the first time of why he loved her. Why in another life he offered all he had to her, and although she rejected it, he persevered. In this life, I will not make the same mistakes. I will prevail!
Elizabeth’s uncle had returned from his warehouse shortly after their carriage had arrived from Rosings, and Darcy was surprised to have recognized him from business dealings in London in his other life.
A reputation of impeccable character, if I remember correctly.
And his wife seems such a genteel woman.
Darcy appreciated the subtly raised brow of the woman who was maybe five years his senior as he had bowed and placed a light kiss upon her niece’s gloved hand.
And Elizabeth had turned a lovely shade of pink. He felt himself grinning at the recollection as the carriage carried him across Town toward Grosvenor Square. I did not realize Anne’s townhouse would be this close to Hyde Park. I wonder if it is near Darcy House?
At that, the carriage made a familiar turn and proceeded to the end of the street before making another familiar turn and stopping before the London home Darcy’s grandfather had purchased as a wedding gift for his grandmother.
He sat stunned as the footman opened the door to the carriage. Darcy forced his limbs to move, and he exited the equipage. He stood stupidly looking up at the facade of his own home when the door opened, and an unknown butler greeted him.
“Mr. Fitzroy. I am Mr. Duncan. Welcome to Darce––excuse me—de Bourgh House. Miss de Bourgh sent an express informing us of your stay. Do come in.”
Darcy took a deep breath, unprepared for the emotions that assaulted him as he entered the foyer.
He looked about, surprised to see the familiar décor, the portraits of his mother and father where they had always hung, as well as his grandmother and grandfather Darcy portraits.
A never before seen painting of his parents with Georgiana as a child hung where his should be.
But it is not. An emptiness filled him, and he followed a footman to his room.
As he progressed down the corridor, the jangling of keys behind him made him turn.
He gasped at the woman standing before him, mouth gaping like a fish.
“Mr. Darcy!”
“Mrs. Reynolds!”
He had not yet recovered from the shock of seeing the woman he had known since birth standing to greet him here in London as she always had at Pemberley. She stared at him, and he at her, for what seemed hours but had only been seconds before:
“I beg your pardon. Mr. Fitzroy, I presume. Welcome to Darce–– de Bourgh House. Miss de Bourgh has informed us you are to have full access to the house and stables. Dinner will be at six.” She had curtseyed, cast him another quick glance, and scuttled down toward the kitchen as a footman led him to his room.
He watched her go and could do nothing. He was a visitor in his own home, and it rankled him exceedingly.
And now, it took considerable force to follow the footman to the guest wing of the house and not proceed directly to the master’s rooms. But this actually suited his purpose, as he could question the servant with impunity.
“This is a beautiful home,” Darcy said to the young man.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have the de Bourghs resided here long?”
“No, sir.”
Not one of the more loquacious servants, is he? “And how long have you been with the family?”
“I was recently brought above stairs after another footman was let go for...after another footman was let go,” he said in the sharp northern accent of Derbyshire. “You will be in the Blue Room, sir. If you need assistance, there’s the bell. Briggs has been assigned as your valet during your stay.”
“Briggs?” Darcy asked in surprise. “Is he no longer residing at Pemberley?”
The young man looked at Darcy quickly, then lowered his eyes as a good servant would.
“No, sir. He left Pemberley since it is no longer in the family. Many of the staff have moved to Darce––de Bourgh House since…well…since. Miss de Bourgh has seen fit to put us to work here, but others have moved on, sir.”
“And you are from Pemberley?” Darcy asked, not recognizing the footman from his other life.
“Yes, sir. My family has lived at Pemberley since my grandfather was a lad.”
“And what is your name?”
“Gale, sir. Ranse Gale.”
“Ranse Gale? Why I thought you had gone to the Americas to apprentice with an uncle eight years ago?” I know you did! I gave your father money to help with your passage when you were but twelve years of age.
The young man stopped short and looked at him questioningly.
“I do have an uncle who is in America and asked me to apprentice, but our family could not afford the passage.” He began walking again and opened the door.
“Here is your room, sir. Briggs will arrive shortly unless I can help you with something else, sir.” And with that, the young man bowed and left the room.
Now I will be the talk of the servant’s hall tonight!
He walked to the window and stared out at the all too familiar view of the gardens.
I am sure Fitzwilliam Darcy’s servants would have often imagined his behavior as something peculiar.
But William Fitzroy is a much different character, and I must guard my words before someone becomes suspicious.