Chapter 29 Dreams
Fitzwilliam Darcy found himself in the middle of the best dream of his life.
It had everything good that a dream could have.
He was warm and snug in a comfortable bed.
He even had his long-lost wife curled up in front of him, where any man of sense and education should have enticed her to be five years earlier.
The sheets and blankets were crisp and clean.
The air in the room smelled fresh due to the open window.
All was right in the world of his dreams.
To top it all off, just when his dream-self started the slow exit from slumber, and was in the position where he thought he might be able to distinguish dream from reality; his favourite dog, an English Setter named Beatrice, snuck into his bedchamber to climb on top of him—yet again.
Beatrice had been doing so for years, and even though she was getting old enough that he had to keep a stool beside his bed for her use as a step, it was still his favourite way to wake up.
With a smile at how wonderful the dream was, he gradually opened his eyes.
Long experience told him that the next step was a very slobbery kiss from Beatrice, so it would not be an overstatement to say he felt slightly surprised when Beatrice forewent the usual face bath and instead spoke in English.
“Misser Dardy—Missssser Darrrdddy—Miiiissseeerrrr Daaaarrrrdddddyyyyy.”
With a start his eyes snapped open instantly, but then he immediately fell into a big smile. “Good morning to you, Miss Miriam.”
“I Miss Hervey. Am hungry.”
Darcy chuckled, one more piece of the puzzle verified. “I stand corrected, Miss Hervey, and I believe we can take care of that rumble in your tummy quite soon.”
Miriam laughed. “Is all right. You call me Miriam.”
A bow seemed out of the question, so he said, “It will be my honour and privilege, Miriam.”
His grin faded when he heard a loud whisper. “Miriam! Are you in there? You know you are not supposed to wake up Auntie.”
Darcy felt his wife, who was entirely corporeal and not a dream, but she was not entirely awake yet, so he thought he had better answer before he embarrassed Miriam’s poor mother. “She is here, Mrs Hervey. She is no bother at all.”
Dead silence reigned for a moment. Darcy thought he should answer, but his wife took care of the chore. “Be easy, Molly. Much to our mutual surprise, my husband and I have worked out our differences. All is well. In fact, all is very much better than well. All is perfect.”
She scoffed in a manner worthy of Lady Catherine. “About time!”
As much as Darcy believed he would like Mrs Hervey quite a lot (once she quit leaving the room every time he entered), it might be best if he met her on terms where they were both at least dressed.
“As my wife says, all is well, madam. It is more than well. I am greatly in your debt, and I hope one day to repay a hundredth part of it.”
She laughed, which surprised him. “I was illiterate and the lowest scullery maid in Pemberley five years ago, Mr Darcy, and that was a promotion from the state I was in when I met Amanda. Now I am a part owner of a robust business, married to the best man in the kingdom, no offence, and have the most impudent daughter in Edinburgh. You owe me nothing.”
He laughed. “Perhaps we may have a stubbornness contest later, but for the moment, pray accept my gratitude.”
He looked down to see Elizabeth looking at him intently, happy enough for him to take the lead, so he reached down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, then carefully set Miriam on the floor, and whispered, “You should probably go to your mother, Miriam.”
“Mama!” she screamed, then took off across the room like a shot. She even managed to make it around the corner to her mother without bouncing off any furniture—well, hardly any at least.
Darcy heard her screaming and laughing as Mrs Hervey lifted her up. “Breakfast is in an hour.”
Amanda laughed. “Thank you, Molly.”
The smell of bacon, eggs, porridge, honey, tea, and coffee wafted out of the dining room as the happy couple entered, precisely an hour later.
Darcy had to physically restrain himself from touching his wife, but since she seemed inclined to keep herself within half a foot of him all the way, it did not cause any inconvenience.
He saw a young man who appeared to be in his early twenties sitting at the table playing a clapping game with Miriam, and the child’s mother carrying a pot of coffee next to another woman dressed as a cook, carrying a plate of fried eggs.
The other victuals were laid out neatly, and there were places for himself, Elizabeth-Amanda, the Herveys, and another three plates.
Elizabeth said, “The last setting is for the cook. We are not formal here, and she eats with us when the mood strikes her.”
Darcy did not ask about the last two, thinking he would find out when his wife wanted him to know.
The young man stood up, and Elizabeth introduced them formally. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, these are my oldest friends and companions, Noah and Molly Hervey.”
Darcy bowed. “Mr Hervey. Mrs Hervey. As I briefly mentioned earlier, I consider myself greatly in your debt. You cared for my wife when I could not.” Then he paused a moment, searching for the exact words.
“Or worse yet, would not. I can never repay your kindness, but I will try, and you should know that anything within my power that I can do to aid you will be done.”
“And me, sir?” he heard from a new voice just entering the room and looked over to see none other than Daniel Baker looking at him intently.
He walked over to bow to Mr Baker and give the same reassurances, but before he could cover the half-dozen yards to the newcomer he heard, “Why, Mr Darcy! Fancy meeting you here.”
The greeting came from someone he had known reasonably well at one time, and he saw the former Caroline Bingley walk up to Baker, with a child slightly younger than Miriam on her hip. She looked calm and collected, as did Baker, but Darcy thought it best to reassure everyone.
“Mrs Baker, I presume?”
She curtseyed. “Yes, and this is Margaret.”
The child looked at him curiously, but did not seem inclined to speak, so Darcy continued, “Mr Baker, Mrs Baker, Margaret. As I was just saying, you need fear nothing from me except that I will be tediously repetitious in my praise and thanks. I will assert that you did what needed doing at the time. I will not begrudge any of your actions—only my own.”
Elizabeth had walked up beside him, and she took his arm, so all three couples were standing with the wife holding the husband’s arm, though whether that was to offer comfort or prevent any funny ideas about fisticuffs was anybody’s guess.
“Fitzwilliam, I believe I may speak for all when I say that forgiveness, in every direction, is all we need. You and I were hurt by the actions of the past. My friends were placed in extremely awkward positions. It is unfortunate, but it is in the past.”
Surprisingly, Caroline said, “Mr Darcy—as Amanda says, we all can use some forgiveness. If she is willing to forgive you your trespasses, and you forgive us ours, then we will all get along splendidly.”
“I am touched by your generosity, since it was my intransigence that started all the pain in the first place.”
Baker said, “That is true, but think of it this way. All of us are much better off than we were five years ago, and in fact, much better off than we would have been absent your lunkheadedness. We have a thriving business, so we are all much better off materially. The three of us all found wives about ten times prettier and a dozen times smarter than we deserve. We have two healthy children between us and more cannot be long in coming.”
Darcy felt Elizabeth squeeze his arm, and he thought he could feel a secret smile just for him. Perhaps he imagined it, but if that was the case, he would take it.
Mr Hervey said, “We have a good family here.”
Everyone laughed, and Molly said, “The people with any sense are going to eat while it is still hot. You men can join us if you like.”
With a laugh, everyone tucked in. Amanda and Darcy had not eaten since the previous midday, so they were ravenous.
Margaret and Miriam got at least half their porridge down their throats, which was better than average, and the adults talked about this and that, where they had been and what they had done since the last time they were together. It was the best meal of Darcy’s life.
When nobody could eat another bite, everyone stacked their dishes on a wheeled cart, and the cook wheeled it towards the kitchen at the same time as a nursemaid took the children. The remaining six adults moved to a sitting room where tea was served by Mrs Darcy-Thorne.
During the meal, all conversation centred around the recent travel of the Bakers and Herveys, as well as the recent and upcoming purchases, and the like. There was even a minor discussion about the sales for the month, but without the ledgers it lacked depth.
Once everyone settled in, Darcy felt he had to say his piece. “Once again, I must reiterate that I am so grateful that you were such good partners to Elizabeth all these years, and—”
He did not quite know how to say what he had to say without causing offence. He was trying to work it out when Mr Baker took the lead.
“Mr Darcy, may I recommend a candid conversation. We do not mince words in our little group here, nor do we shield our wives, nor do they shield us, from anything—ever.”
“Both admirable and sensible procedures, Mr Baker. I applaud them and will join the general scheme myself.”
Baker nodded. “We are in a bit of a special situation, I believe. There are things that must remain private for decades, if not forever, with real consequences for failure of disclosure.”
Darcy appreciated the candour. “Pray, allow me to speculate. You no doubt have contingency plans that could be activated if I ever discovered the situation, and I would wager you still do.”