Chapter Twenty
AFTER THE STORM, THE DAYS QUICKLY TURNED UNSEASONABLY WARM for December.
The weather permitted Darcy and Elizabeth to escape the house and resume her riding lessons.
They had left Ceres in the London mews behind Darcy House, so Darcy introduced Elizabeth to a new horse, the gelding Apollo he had considered for her back at Netherfield.
Apollo was more spirited than Ceres and would challenge Elizabeth’s natural skills.
“Straighten your back,” Darcy reminded her when she bounced in the saddle.
“He is so powerful, William!”
“No more so than Ceres. Apollo is simply not as comfortable as your favorite, but he is a better horse for the rolling hills of Pemberley. Ceres is better for the city, not as skittish with the noise and the traffic.”
“Do we have a destination?” she asked.
“I thought we might call on a few of the tenants and perhaps the vicar if there is time.”
“I would take pleasure in that.” Elizabeth shot him a quick glance. “I was thinking.” Suddenly, she appeared tongue-tied.
“Dare I ask of what?” Darcy found her embarrassment endearing.
Elizabeth paused again. “I considered where I might find my place as your wife—as the mistress of this estate. At Longbourn, I often handled the tenant affairs for my father. He chooses his books to avoid such trivial confrontations, and my mother’s nerves make the confrontations too tedious.
I flatter myself by saying I have a way with the workers—at least, I seemed to at Longbourn. ”
Darcy halted on the crest of a hill. He presented her with a level look. “What did you do for the tenants at Longbourn?” he asked seriously.
Elizabeth sparkled with his interest. “Papa trusted me to settle the disputes and such matters. And at this time of year, I would arrange baskets for the families on Boxing Day. Papa is not wealthy, but everyone appreciated our acknowledgment of their service to the estate.”
Intrigued, Darcy asked, “What kind of basket?”
“Simple gifts: cold meat, bread, a few potatoes, a candle, and a branch of consecrated mistletoe,” she explained.
“We could do something similar. Why do you not consult with Mrs. Reynolds when we return to the house? Such would provide you an opportunity to establish your place in my life. I like the idea. I take care of the overseeing of the land and the tenant houses, but I admit I am not of a social nature. The tenants would welcome a more personal touch. It would do wonders in strengthening bonds.” Darcy smiled at her in approval and then nudged his horse forward.
Elizabeth followed suit. “Thank you, William,” she said when she came abreast of his mount. “I will make you proud of me.”
In her opinion, Christmas at Pemberley must resemble heaven, the rooms with the reflected light from the crystal and the scent of cinnamon and fresh pine and nutmeg and everything good of the season filling the rooms. Unlike the hustle and bustle of Longbourn, with family and children underfoot, Pemberley, in its majestic realm, held court for the community, and, especially this year, as the Darcys, including the new mistress, held court.
After the morning service, they received tenants and villagers for several hours in their home.
People came to learn more about the master’s new wife.
She would affect their lives for many years, and they were all curious about the nature of the woman.
They were surprised and thankful to find Mr. and Mrs. Darcy not only receiving each of them but also bestowing a gift.
“The workers are grateful for the charming baskets,” Darcy whispered into her hair as the latest arrival curtsied before his new wife.
Elizabeth’s iridescent gown shimmered in the soft light reflected through the amber-tinted windows. “Mrs. Reynolds outdid herself. Georgiana and I assisted, but Mrs. Reynolds is phenomenal. She even added some hard candy for the children.” Elizabeth smiled happily.
“I am confident Mrs. Reynolds saw the idea as a means to promote the Darcy family. She is very protective of the family name,” he observed.
Elizabeth added, “As it is now my name, so am I, Mr. Darcy.”
Late Christmas Day, Darcy relaxed on the settee before the fireplace in his sitting room, sipping a brandy.
Elizabeth also rested upon the settee, her head in his lap and her bare feet draped over the arm of the furniture.
He absentmindedly stroked her hair. “It was a good day,” he observed, setting his glass on a nearby table.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. “I have never known such contentment.”
Darcy shoved away his uneasy feeling, which mutely warned of a shadow spreading across his life.
For a time, he had thought tranquility of spirit could not exist, but now that he had tasted it, he craved the normalcy a life with Elizabeth offered.
He feared speaking of it—feared it might jinx the peace if he acknowledged it too loudly.
Some men prayed to go to heaven, but Darcy prayed to remain contentedly on earth with his wife.
His life began and ended with her. More than all others, he feared losing her and returning to the emptiness of his earlier existence.
Eyes closed, Elizabeth dwelled upon the image of Darcy standing majestically in the new boots she presented him as a Christmas gift.
Despite his weaknesses—despite his foibles—he was the man she loved.
She knew the worst of him—knew of the curse—knew of how he released the souls of Wickham’s victims—knew his stubbornness—knew his vulnerability— but she considered only the best of the man.
Unfortunately, thoughts of Darcy led to thoughts of George Wickham.
With eyes still closed, she spoke aloud, “I was encouraged by what Mrs. Annesley discovered yesterday. The information explains the symbol of the pitchfork—or crown—on Wickham’s hand and confirms my belief he cannot be killed by our religious representations.
” Mrs. Annesley had tenaciously spent hours poring over the literature for clues to destroying Wickham.
On the previous day, she discovered a Celtic pagan god known as ‘Cernunnos,’ or sometimes referred to as the ‘Horned God.’ He wore a crown of branching antlers, symbolizing his animalistic nature.
Such explained part of Elizabeth’s dream, but more noteworthy was the fact Cernunnos could be found traveling with Owl, the Crone of the Night, and with Eagle, the Lord of the Air.
According to the legend, the Stag of Seven Tines, the Master of Time, departed his service because Cernunnos became known as the “All-Devourer.”Wickham’s largely female following as well as his power over the wind finally made sense.
If the deer in her dream represented Darcy, then Darcy’s ability to control time also appeared logical.
According to the book, Cernunnos possessed shapeshifting powers, as a shamanic god of the Hunt.
Elizabeth found it fascinating how Cernunnos’s life was one of sacrifice, which further explained Wickham’s role with Lady Ellender D’Arcy.
According to the legend, it was through Cernunnos, as a courier to the Underworld, that old life passed away and new life began.
He was known for fits of violence and the panic he instilled in his prey as the Hunter.
As a Celtic god of the afterlife, Cernunnos was described as the god who never died because his flesh was rejuvenated with a “reservoir” of sacred fluids.
Such was the source of Wickham’s revitalization.
Even so, her husband had wanted none of her theories. “If you do not mind, Elizabeth, I would prefer a holiday from thinking of George Wickham or the curse. Could we not for one day just be the Darcys of Pemberley?”
“Certainly, William,” she had reassured him. “I believe the Darcys of Pemberley possess a great love.”
Her husband had lifted her to him. “The Darcys of Pemberley could be one of the world’s great love stories.”
Appearing in the Longbourn foyer the day after Christmas, Wickham, as Colonel Forster, asked to speak to Mr. Bennet.
After a short wait, a maid ushered him into Mr. Bennet’s study.
The gentleman came to his feet to greet him.
“Colonel Forster,” he said, “I am happy to see you again, Sir.” Bennet offered his hand and then motioned to a nearby chair. “How may I assist you, Colonel?”
Wickham settled himself comfortably in the wing chair.
“Thank you for receiving me, Sir. I know you are a busy man, so I will come to the crux of my visit, Bennet. I speak on behalf of my wife. My Anna is very fond of your youngest, Miss Lydia. Mrs. Forster hopes you will permit Miss Lydia to accompany my wife and me to London for the annual Militia Ball.”
“When is the ball?”
“The day after tomorrow, Sir. We leave today and return the morning after the New Year’s. We shall take rooms at the Whitmore, a hotel only two streets removed from the hall. Naturally, Miss Lydia will be staying with Mrs. Forster, as is only proper.”
Mr. Bennet paused for a long moment. “You will forgive my prudence, Sir, in wishing to keep my daughters close. I had a daughter directly involved in two of the three recent attacks. My Lizzy encountered the dastard twice. Do you believe there is no longer a threat to the neighborhood, Colonel?”
“We had the three attacks within a few days, but for a fortnight there has been nothing.” Wickham toyed with his gloves. “The magistrate and I believe the perpetrator was someone passing through the area.”
Mr. Bennet leaned back in his chair, weighing what the colonel had said. “I would insist that Lydia not go anywhere without Mrs. Forster.”
“Assuredly, Mr. Bennet. I would expect nothing less. Miss Lydia is so young. I guarantee my wife will exercise tender care of your daughter.”
“I would never consider this, Colonel, if not for your impeccable reputation, and if not for the fact I would never hear the end of it from Mrs. Bennet if I denied Lydia an opportunity to encounter an eligible young officer. Mrs. Bennet reminds me every day of our duty to find husbands for all our daughters. However, Lydia shall travel to London with my wife’s brother.
Then you and Mrs. Forster may retrieve her from her uncle’s home.
” He took out a piece of paper and scrawled the Gardiners’ directions upon it.
Wickham was not happy with this turn of events.
It would be necessary to explain the absence of Mrs. Forster when he called at Gardiner’s residence.
“How fortunate,” he interjected, “to possess relatives in London. My wife and I will call for Miss Lydia this evening and take her up with us.” Having felt the image begin to fade, he made to depart.
Bennet followed Wickham to his feet. “I will provide you time to escape the house, Colonel, before I inform Lydia of my decision,” he said with amusement.
“It will save your ears the shrill of happiness to which we shall be subjected.” He took Wickham’s hand in farewell.
Turning the hand, he commented, “That is odd, Colonel. You and Mr. Wickham have the same marking on your wrist.”
Wickham laughed nervously. Apparently, the shift had lost some of its originality. “Mr. Wickham is one of many soldiers who chose to display their loyalty to the Crown with this symbol.”
“How interesting,” Mr. Bennet mused. “I thought Mr. Wickham’s to be a birthmark.”
Wickham headed towards the door, pulling on his gloves as he walked. “More than likely, Mr. Wickham earned his as I did—a few too many drinks and an Indian Punjab skilled in the art of tattoos.”
“I imagine so, Colonel,” Mr. Bennet said wryly as he followed Wickham to the door. “I wish you a safe journey, Sir.”
“Thank you, Bennet. We will see you in the new year.” Wickham left quickly, striding from the house and mounting the horse without looking back.
Before he could reach the curve of the drive leading to Longbourn, his disguise gave way.
“That was close,” he observed. “I wish I could better predict the shape change. It must have something to do with Darcy’s attack at Netherfield.
I experienced nothing prior to that time.
Mayhap Amelia did not remove the entire silver shaft. ”
Leaving Longbourn, Wickham turned his horse towards London. He had the address of Lydia Bennet’s uncle in Cheapside and the means with which to destroy Elizabeth Darcy.