Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (104 page)

BOOK: Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice
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You
are one to talk about a Bennet sister’s behaviour.”  Darcy growled as he thought of the months of hurt his wife carried at Jane’s hands.

Bingley immediately sobered.   “Forgive me, Darcy.  I miss joking with you, surely you are better used to it now, with Mrs. Darcy by your side?”  Darcy’s glare softened and Bingley’s relief was clear.  “Ah, there you go.” 

“What did I say?  Marriage is good for him.  He has learned to forgive offenses.”  Hurst smiled encouragingly.

“Some offenses more than others.”  Darcy looked at his downcast friend and regained some of his humour.  “I am regretting my invitation already.  How long were you to stay?  Until we find you an estate?  Well then, we cannot go today as my family is arriving.  Tomorrow morning, my friend, we are going to find you a home.  And we will bring the entire male population along to do so.  My wife will kill me.”  Darcy smiled. 

“My goodness, we did not even last three days before he declared us to be overstaying!”  Hurst cried.

“I do apologize, Darcy.  I should not be surprised at your reaction to my flippancy.  I am fortunate that you invited us at all.  And I am aware that part of our purpose for coming is to find a home, far away from Longbourn.”

“Well, we have identified some more suitable properties to visit, Bingley.  We will find you the ideal estate.”  Darcy said encouragingly. 

“I am becoming increasingly nervous of being a landowner.”  Bingley said softly.  “I do not know if I am cut out for this.  Not at all.”

“Then you must decide if leasing is your destiny.  There is no shame in it; you easily could have kept Netherfield, were it not for its location.   It was an ideal estate; you would simply need to be careful with your investments.  Or you could become a tenant farmer on a large estate, of course, that would not be the same, it does not carry the status of being a gentleman.  But it would give you the income you need, and the experience of actually operating a property before you spent your father’s money.”

“All wise ideas, but you know that I cannot follow them.  I must purchase lest I have my ancestors haunting my dreams forever.  I know my duty.”  He smiled and winked.  “Thank you for the offer, though.  I think that you would be an ideal master.”  

Hurst snorted, “What happened with your tenant?  Why would he risk losing such an ideal situation to someone like Bingley?  Surely he would not wish to be on your bad side? 

Darcy shrugged.  “He knows that I am a fair master and that I am willing to work with anyone who is under my care.  He was looking for better terms on his next contract, most likely.  They have all been paying attention to the home farm.  The improvements we have tried here are proving fruitful, and Barnes will demand that all of Pemberley comply next season.  They will share in the bounty, but I will be earning much more.  But in the end, it is my land, my ideas, my investment, my rules.” 

“Ruthless.”  Hurst smiled.

“No, practical.  I have a feeling that if this war ends, the landowners who are not prepared will see their tenant farmers taking advantage.  They are well-compensated already, but as they hire the people who work for them, those men could be cheated.  My concern is for the men who have nothing.”

“Rather egalitarian of you Darcy.  I do not remember this side of you before.”  Hurst looked him over curiously.  “You truly are different from what you were when we last met.” 

Bingley nodded and pointed at his brother, “I agree.  What happened to my taciturn friend in such a short amount of time?”

Darcy stiffened.  “You do not see me performing like a fool, do you?”

“Not at all, I imagine you are as deliberate as ever, but you perform differently, even if your thoughts are the same.”  Hurst rubbed at his chin and then chuckled, “However, you could have knocked me over with a feather to hear you refer, even obliquely, to your marriage bed.  A bawdy remark while in your cups, a circuitous reference to sexual congress in general, perhaps, but directly implying your relations with your wife . . .”

“I did no such thing!”  Darcy barked.

“Rubbing?  What exactly was being rubbed and who was performing the service?”   Hurst prodded him.  Darcy said nothing, but his frown deepened.  “And what of that display in the drawing room?  I thought that the ladies’ eyes would fall from their heads and I would be gathering them up as they rolled about the floor!  Even Miss Darcy was amazed.  I take it that you do not usually hold Mrs. Darcy so . . .”

Immediately Darcy stopped the subject.  “No, I do not hold her so close in public, however she was deeply distressed and I will never leave her to suffer, I do not care who I offend.  Not in my own home.”  His eyes had taken on a furious, possessive glare and Bingley felt the full force of it.

“I apologize again for the distress caused by my wife and sister.”

Darcy let down slightly.  “Your wife . . . You must understand, my wife has felt inferior since childhood.  She always will, no matter what I say.  She will never forget that she was the unwanted, ugly daughter.  Jane’s uninformed disdain just made it so much worse.”

“Jane was hoping to speak to her privately this morning and apologize.  And I am hoping that we can repair the damage.  It is not just what happened between the sisters, it is . . . I was wrong before to say that I regret marrying her, I do not.  I . . . I truly was drawn to her like no other before.  I tried hard not to act hastily for once in my life.  I tried to consider it carefully.  But I suppose that between her hopes and my . . . inability to hold back . . .”

“At least you are talking now.”

“Yes.”  Bingley sighed and shrugging; smiled a little.   

“Perhaps it was not the love match you supposed.  Perhaps it is friendship, above a marriage of convenience, but not . . . what I share with Lizzy.”  Darcy cursed his tongue as he fumbled for a way to reassure his friend.  “If it turns out to be the former, then you join the vast majority of married men in the world and it is no great tragedy, is it?  Do not look to my situation as your high water mark, or Hurst’s or any other man’s.  Your marriage is unique, and you must decide what makes you happiest.  Both of you do.”

“What is this claptrap about your having regret?”  The three men turned to find Richard sitting on a horse, leaning forward comfortably on his saddle. 

“These sudden appearances are really quite annoying, Richard.” 

He just chuckled at Darcy and looked back to Bingley, “How long have you been married, Bingley?”

“Six months.”

“Good Lord.”  Richard snorted.  “Regret at six months.  Boo hoo.  You haven’t had enough time together to let the ink dry on your marriage contract!” 

“He makes a good point there.”  Darcy smiled at the surreptitious wink he received from his cousin before he launched on with his speech. 

“How many disagreements have you suffered with your Elizabeth, Darcy?”  Richard saw his eyes roll and nodded.  “Too many to count?  Well, I have been married a month, and I tell you, that lass I took to my side has a temper, and we have had at it at least once a day.  Varying degrees of course, but we have not been shy, and . . . I am sure you will agree, as a consequence, we have a much better and happier understanding of each other.  Hurst, how many fights have you had?”

“I crawled into the bottle to avoid them.”

Darcy observed the smiling man. “You crawled out of the bottle so you must have had a few since then.”

“They are tempered now.”  He laughed.  “We have years of companionship to draw on, and now our disagreements are over Caroline.”

“There you go.  Do you fight about each other so much anymore, Darcy?”

“No, we tease and become annoyed, but it does not last.  And we dearly enjoy making things well again.”  Richard grinned and laughed.  Darcy frowned at Hurst’s raised brow and looked to Bingley.  “So you have disagreed with each other . . . twice?”  Bingley nodded. 

Richard looked disgusted.  “Regret.  My foot.  If you have regret, go on and find yourself a courtesan.  You can afford it.  Or I can point you to any number of tavern wenches who will gladly serve up more than ale.  No muss, no fuss.  Just wash off their god-awful perfume before you walk in your front door and buy a box of skins to tuck in your saddlebag.” 

“It is so nice to see you again, Colonel.”  Bingley managed to smile.  “But I think that I prefer Darcy’s counsel to yours.”

“Hmmmph.” 

Darcy turned his horse and held out his hand, the cousins leaned toward each other as they shook.  “It is more serious than a little disagreement?”

“Of course, I will fill you in later.”

“Elizabeth?”

“You would have been proud.” 

“Good girl.”  Richard smiled and letting Darcy’s hand go, sat up in the saddle.  “Well, I wanted my mount with me so I rode beside the carriages.”  He rubbed his horse’s neck fondly.  “And of course I could not resist letting her go once we entered Pemberley.  The groom said you all were out here somewhere, so I came out to alert you of our imminent arrival.” 

Darcy looked up at the sun; it was not even noon.  “You are early.” 

“Aunt Catherine has been itching to come here for weeks; she was like a rabid dog, barking at everyone to leave at dawn.  It was all they could do to keep her from hitching up the carriage herself, Father said.”  He laughed.  “They were at Gladney by nine, so . . .  We fed and watered them, but that did not take long.  And then I told Sophie that I would ride.  I will apologize to her later on my knees.  Can you imagine sitting with Aunt Catherine on a long carriage ride?”  Richard shuddered and then beamed all around.  “They will be along soon enough, I doubt that . . .” He noticed Darcy’s gaze had settled on the distant ridge, a caravan of carriages was reaching the summit along Pemberley’s drive.  Immediately, he kicked his horse and started for the house at a breakneck pace.  Richard turned his mount and was right behind him, followed by the other startled men.  “Well, there you go.  Time to play host.  Speaking of entertaining visitors; how’s your port supply, Cousin?” 

Darcy called back to Bingley.  “Remind me to speak to Evans about hiding the key to the cellars.”

“I do not require a key.”  Richard shouted over the thundering hooves.

“Remind me to speak to Evans about putting an armed guard on the cellars.”  Darcy’s smile grew, and nudging Bruin, he quickly had them all outpaced.

“hmm.”  Richard considered Darcy’s rapidly disappearing back as he slowed his tired stallion.  “I should have brought my sword along.” 

 

GEORGIANA SIGHED to herself, wishing she was back inside of the house.  Listening to Caroline talk about the wonders of London and the Season was doing nothing to increase her desire to ever participate. 
Maybe I am not entirely dissimilar to my brother.
  Glancing at Caroline she looked down at her feet.
But if all of the ladies are like Miss Bingley, I can see why he avoided it.  No wonder he chose Elizabeth.

“Oh, pardon me; I did not see you there.”  Louisa nearly stumbled over a man kneeling on the ground and writing in a book.

“Forgive me, madam.  I did not hear your approach.”  Ferguson rose to his feet and nodded, touching the cap he wore and looking down.

“What are you doing lurking amongst the shrubbery?”  Caroline snapped.

“I was working, Miss.” 

“Caroline.”  Louisa sighed.  “Come along.”  She took her sister’s arm and they kept walking.  Georgiana stayed where she was.  Louisa stopped and looked back.  “Miss Darcy, are you coming?”

“I will just speak to Mr. Ferguson for a moment.  I will be right along.” 

“Miss Darcy, it was nothing . . .”

“I know, Mrs. Hurst.”  She smiled a little.

“Good for her, she is learning that servants should know their place.”  Caroline sniffed. 

The sisters moved off and Georgiana looked down at her hands.  “I apologize for her.  She is rude at the best of times.” 

Ferguson watched Caroline walking away.  “She has no reason to feel haughty from what I have heard.”  He shrugged when Georgiana giggled.  “I should not say that, especially before my employer’s sister.”

She looked up and saw again, simple kindness.  “I have not had the opportunity to thank you for . . .” 

Ferguson lifted his hand. “Please . . . there is no need.  I am simply happy that Mr. Darcy was able to correct me before Mr. Barnes heard any more.”

“You . . . you have been so nice to me.  All along.  You . . . even when you thought I was Miss Cargill, you did not treat me badly because I was
Miss
Cargill.  I know that some important members of my own family would not have been so forgiving.  I . . . I just wanted to ask you, while I can, why?”

Smiling, he clasped his hands over his book.  “Well, maybe it was because I valued my position?”

“Mr. Ferguson, I recognize now when someone is trying to win favour with false praise.”  Their eyes turned to Caroline.

Ferguson cleared his throat.  “I am glad that my loyalty appears genuine.  And I am glad that you have learned such an important lesson.”  Glancing again to see that the sisters were far enough away, he spoke softly, “My eldest sister fell with child without benefit of marriage.  Father demanded she marry the man, but he was a soldier who had left for duty and was nowhere to be found.  Father was devastated with her ruin, but he allowed her to stay home and not marry someone she did not love.  I wonder if she would have been better off if she had.” 

“Brother did not make me marry, or send me away.”  Georgiana whispered.

“No, and he did not take my father’s route, either.”  Closing his eyes, he gathered his thoughts and then met her gaze.  “Everyone was told that they were engaged and anticipated their vows, common enough, but Father never spoke to my sister again.  She was dead to him, even though she lived in the same house.  To every other child, he was the same loving man, but to my sister . . .” Ferguson looked down at his book when he saw Georgiana’s stricken face.  “She delivered the baby and died a fortnight later.  The baby died a week after that, and the soldier never returned home.”

Georgiana’s hands went to her mouth and she gasped. “Oh, how terrible!  I am so sorry, Mr. Ferguson.”

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