B006O3T9DG EBOK (38 page)

Despite their banter, Mr. Darcy’s reminisces of pleasures past were no consolation when their upcoming sojourn promised none whatsoever. Yet, his forbearance was not over-worked. He also looked forward to their children’s excitement, even at the cost of reining in his own. (His hand would not have leave to wander.) He had to suppress a slight pout over his desires being controverted, but was not altogether successful. He busied himself out of his pique by attending to the many chores attached it their journey.

Such a trip was a large undertaking, requiring the assembly of three coaches and their drivers, twelve horses and six footmen. Darcy’s inspection of each was meticulous. No pin, rod, or bolt was left to chance. Every button on the footmen and fetlock on each horse was scrutinized. The duteousness wherewith Mr. Darcy addressed all of these endeavours was of legend. (Behind such care was a recollection of another trip, quite the opposite in all ways of their first—that ordeal was so unendurable they rarely spoke of it.)

Elizabeth watched these preparations from a window above. She had seen him make the same verifications, examinations, and confirmations a dozen times. Fastidious in all things, Mr. Darcy was most mindful of his horses. Stamina was essential in the planning of each journey. Of primary importance was that the trip was broken in a propitious fashion. Common thought was that the horses’ exertions should be rewarded every fifteen miles. Darcy spoke to Edward Hardin and lectured the coachmen. No stone was left unturned in assuring a safe trip.

Darcy was not the only one who had looked upon their travels with near-wanton expectation. Elizabeth had enjoyed the privacy of their coach as much as her husband. Indeed, upon their first journey to Pemberley, she had been altogether astonished what a churched couple could engage in so long as windows were covered. Gazing down upon her husband, she gave a sigh of regret for what once was.

From afar she heard the excited exchanges of Janie and Geoff. Darcy and Elizabeth found ample recompense in their children’s delight.

When at last they were on their way, the children were again cautioned to mind their behaviour. Both crossed their ankles and folded their hands in their lap. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy exchanged glances. Elizabeth set a penny upon the seat between them.

She told her husband, “I wager this quiet does not last until the lodge post.”

Of a mind that a word from him was all that was required to keep his children in check, Darcy took the penny and placed it in the pocket inside his waistcoat

“I spoke to them most firmly,” he replied. “They have promised to be good.”

Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “Good” meant many things to many people. She hoped that his confidence would be well-rewarded.

It was not.

The twins began to bicker as they crossed the bridge a half mile from the portico. This disagreement came about because each believed the other had a better view out the window. With only a glare from their father they desisted.

Darcy told Elizabeth, “The reverberation of their voices inside this coach makes me long for deafness.”

She smiled; happy that was merely a jest. Darcy was quite pleased that he could rein in his children so easily. He saw disciplining their children as a simple task. One only needed to speak to them firmly.

However, once his father looked away, Geoff made faces at Janie. She glowered. Emboldened, he withdrew previously hidden paper from his waistband. Then, quite surreptitiously, tore small pieces from it and tucked them into his cheek. One by one, he began to spit them at his sister. Janie seemingly ignored him. Indeed, she said nothing. Behind her, however, she made a surprisingly solid fist.

Because he gained no reaction from her, Geoff moved closer to his sister. Placing an even larger wad of paper in his mouth, he readied to spit it at her. His face inches away from her; he was blissfully unaware of his peril.

Just as Janie brought her fist back as far as it could go, Elizabeth caught her daughter’s hand. Only then was Mr. Darcy witting that his darling daughter meant to deliver unto her brother a rather powerful roundhouse punch. However much he would have liked for his countenance not to register his horror, an expression of appalled incredulity overspread his face. (Then, he decided it was best for all concerned that he ignore the entire fracas.) The mother of his darling daughter had not that election. Catching Janie under her armpits, Elizabeth swung her up on her lap. It took the offering of several dolls and a great deal of soothing before Geoff was safe.

“Do not be mean to your sister, Geoffrey,” his mother warned.

Although he blinked more than usual, Mr. Darcy’s gaze remained upon the countryside. On the apposing seat, Geoff looked at his sister with great unease. He looked as if he was in want of making amends, but did not quite trust her not to bash him.

Elizabeth whispered to Darcy, “Did you happen to see your daughter? I fear it might have knocked her brother senseless.”

“Yes,” said he.

Elizabeth inquired, “You have no other comment?”

He answered, “I cannot imagine where she inherited such behaviour.”

Initially, Elizabeth’s eyes sparked, but she saw quite hastily that it was a jest.

Darcy continued, “I understand her mother is a bit saucy.”

There was no time to retort. Janie still needed tending. In an hour her anger was finally worn out and motion of the coach lulled her fast asleep. With his sister no longer a mortal danger to him, Geoff became engrossed in every animal, shed, and stream he saw. He was so excited that his father had to hang onto his coattails to keep him from falling out of the window.

“Geoff must be driving you to distraction,” Elizabeth said. “As soon as Janie awakes, she shall be the one full of questions and you shall have no peace. Truly, they are the most inquisitive children in all of England.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment, perchance awaiting the other to make what to them was an obvious conclusion.

She said, “I have heard it said that inquisitiveness is the surest sign of an intelligent child.”

“Second only to pluck,” he agreed.

Before either could continue admiring the many ways of their children, Geoff saw another bird. Once again, the boy lunged as he pointed out the window. This time, much to his son’s unhappiness, his father closed the window altogether. Geoff did not cry. Rather, he frowned, crossed his arms, and stuck out his lower lip. Clearly not only were his wants denied him, his dignity was offended as well.

Looking at Janie sleeping contentedly, Darcy said, “Your daughter is a beauty—just like her mother.”

He took his wife’s hand and kissed it. Longing looks, however, were not to rule the day.

Chapter 53

Befouled

What is that Papa? What is it?” Geoff said, beating on the window.

Their coach was the first of their party. So when an enormous dray came to grief trying to allow them to pass, it blocked their way.

The dray was stacked with cages, each filled with chickens. The noise was apparent, even from inside their coach. The waggon driver hollered at his oxen and slapped his reins across their backs, but the wide wheels would not budge. Geoff bounced up and down on the seat in excitement. Darcy had less success at quieting him than the driver had moving his oxen.

The commotion awoke Janie, her pique forgot, she said, “What is it, Mama? Are there chickens?”

Initially, their coachman attempted to go around the waggon, but to no avail. Several footmen leapt from the Darcy coach to assist the dray, one grabbed the reins and began to tug, the others pushing from the rear.

Mr. Darcy opened his window to allow a footman’s report, “The driver’s pissed as a newt—‘scuse me sir—what shall you have us do?”

“As you were,” Darcy said.

He closed his window and Elizabeth opened hers for some air. She fanned both Janie and herself in relief of the sun which was beating down on their side of the coach.

As the footman tugged on his oxen, the soused driver searched for further libations beneath the seat. As he did, his cargo began to lean ominously. It was only a matter of time before the entire load collapsed in the dirt. Several of the top cages broke loose and slid to the ground. They splintered when they hit, causing a dozen pullets and a very vocal rooster to escape.

The prospect of losing his whole load brought the man to his senses. He scrambled after the birds. Fortunately, most of the fat pullets settled back on the rail of the dray and were easily caught. But a number of others and the cock scattered. The commotion caused the horses to prance a bit, causing Mr. Darcy some alarm. He cracked his window to better observe the doings. His footmen were chasing the loose chickens and soon had them in hand. (It was quite a sight, even for those not easily amused.) Unfortunately the rooster was less tame than the chickens and it continued to elude its pursuers.

When it finally lit, it was upon Mrs. Darcy’s open window. The bird sat there eyeing them whilst Janie shrieked with laughter.

Elizabeth cried, “Shoo!”
Shoo
!”

Her intention was for the cock to take its leave out the window from whence it came, but she only succeeded in exciting it. It flapped its wings wildly and, seeing the other window, attempted to make its escape through it. Darcy encouraged it back out with a swipe with his newspaper, but it made another circle of the coach. On the second attempt, it hit the closed window and knocked itself senseless. It fell to the floor of the coach with a dull thud.

Janie said, “Oh, no! Poor bird. Is it dead?”

The fear that the cock was indeed dead at their feet, Mrs. Darcy endeavoured to shield poor Janie from the scene by means of a motherly hand over her eyes. Janie squealed her indignation and Geoff leapt from the seat and began to poke at the bird.

“Poor, poor rooster....”

Grabbing his son about his waist, Mr. Darcy opened the door and beckoned his man.

“Have this unfortunate fowl removed.”

A footman let down the steps. Before Mr. Darcy stepped a foot out the door, the bird awoke and hopped to his feet. Settling his feathers like a lord, he preceded Mr. Darcy, hopping down each step until he reached the ground. There, he flapped his wings, gave a small, gurgling crow and walked towards the dray. By then, the driver caught up to his rooster. Removing his cap, he nodded to Mr. Darcy.

“Beg pardon, sire,” he slurred.

Then he tucked the bird under his arm and slunk away.

With the aide of more footmen, the dray was pulled out of roadway, allowing them all to go on their way. The Darcy coaches’ stately pace was barely injured by the passing interlude. Elizabeth straightened Janie’s bonnet and retied the ribbon under her own chin. Feathers were everywhere, but that would be attended to when they stopped to rest the horses. Darcy repositioned his hat and gathered himself.

Elizabeth marvelled at her husband’s ability to remain composed when suffering the most unnerving events. Granted, their lives were hardly in danger, but his expression barely altered during the entire fracas. (He displayed more excitation over his daughter’s near basting of her brother.) Elizabeth’s heart had not quite settled. A cock scratching about the yard was benign enough. When caught with one desperate to escape, its claws could do damage. She had feared for everyone’s eyes. Impulsively, she took her husband’s arm and rested her head against his shoulder. He patted her hand. All was well.

“Papa, what is that?” Geoff queried.

Elizabeth smiled wanly at her husband. There had been but a small respite from her son’s questions.