Chapter 2 #2
“Yes, sir,” the man said. “She, Miss Darcy, and the children are up at the pond, sir.”
“Thank you. Kindly provide water for Firefly and allow her to graze.”
“Yes, sir.”
Darcy glanced around with interest as he strode toward the path that would take him to the pond.
Five years ago, Georgiana, along with Mrs. Annesley, had moved from Pemberley into the Lodge, the better to continue her peafowl experiments.
Miss Darcy’s attempts at breeding white feathered peacocks and pea hens had been remarkably successful, such they had all agreed that the walled garden near Pemberley was not large enough for her work.
To his delight, she was receiving substantial attention and praise from other avian enthusiasts in the British isles.
He strode down the path which led to the back yard of the lodge, now transformed into a myriad of coops and runs, with plenty of open space for the birds to roam in good weather, and protective spaces when the winds blew hard and the snow fell.
He grinned at the sights and sounds of the birds who were wandering to and fro, clucking and gibbering, posturing and occasionally even scuffling.
He began walking the path toward the goldfish pond, his heart pumping, his lungs pulling in the crisp April air.
It had been a long and hard winter in Derbyshire, and he was even more appreciative of spring than usual, though he always loved spring, when the new plants pushed themselves above the dirt, when the sheep gave birth, and the cows and horses enjoyed frolicking in the pastures after a long winter in their stalls.
Darcy passed through the last stand of oak trees and halted at the sight before him. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky, and the waterfalls, flush with melted snow, poured vigorously down from the upper pool to the lower. It was beautiful.
Even more lovely, however, was the sight of his beloved wife, who was sitting on a convenient rock, holding some small object in her hand, with her children gathered around.
They made a charming picture; dark haired Arabella, now nine years old, took after both her mother and her aunt in that she was an extremely vigorous child who adored animals of all kinds, especially cats.
The twins, Stephen and Andrew, now sturdy seven year olds, were nearly identical in features but different as night and day in personality.
In spite of this, they were the very best of friends and were almost always together.
Another son, Elias, age five, was blond like Jane Bingley, and shared his aunt’s calm temperament.
Last came little Phoebe, age three, a vigorous red haired child with a will of iron.
Given that both Darcy and Elizabeth were strong willed individuals, the little girl’s determination was no great surprise, but she did keep her parents and nursemaids on their collective toes.
“Papa!” Stephen called out, drawing the attention of everyone. In an instant, the children and Elizabeth were racing toward him, and then his offspring were hugging him while his wife took the opportunity to plant a hasty kiss on his lips.
“My dear, how was your trip?” Elizabeth asked when the children had subsided.
“It went well, but I am relieved to be home,” Darcy answered.
He had been forced to visit a subsidiary Darcy estate some two days away in order to deal with the sudden death of a steward.
The older he got, the less he liked being away from Elizabeth, but it had not been practical for her to come with him on short notice because of the needs of the children, Georgiana, and the estate.
“We are happy to have you home as well,” Elizabeth assured him, bestowing another quick kiss on his lips.
“Mama, do not squish the frog,” Arabella said worriedly, which caused Elizabeth to grimace and lift her closed right hand. She opened it to reveal a tiny, exquisite frog, thankfully still unharmed.
“Thank you for reminding me, dear,” Elizabeth said. “Can you return him to the pond?”
“Yes, Mama.”
Not surprisingly, the five Darcy children wanted to watch the frog return to its home and rushed off, which allowed their parents to indulge in a longer kiss, though Elizabeth first assured herself that the two nursemaids in attendance were hovering near the children to make certain that no one fell into the water.
“Elizabeth, Brother! I caught him!”
Darcy disengaged from Elizabeth and waved a hand at his sister, who was just emerging from the tree line beyond the pond with a peacock in her arms.
“Georgiana!” he called back, and watched happily as she approached him on rapid feet, her blonde hair escaping from her simple straw bonnet, her blue cotton dress slightly smudged from her battle with the peacock, who was in turn regarding his captor with beady eyes.
His sister would never marry, Darcy knew that now. She was still unusual, even peculiar, still fascinated with birds and disinclined to be in the company of strangers.
He also knew it did not matter. Georgiana was happy as she was – sister to Darcy and Elizabeth, aunt to the Darcy children, who adored her. She did not need a husband, nor was there any reason to force her into society; there would always be someone at Pemberley to love Georgiana.
“Mercury escaped his enclosure this morning,” she announced when she was close enough to speak with ease. “I am so glad that I found him! He is the peacock with the most white feathers of all my peafowl, you know.”
Darcy put his arm around his wife and beamed down at his beloved sister. “I am very thankful that he is safe, my dear.”
The End