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Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest

Page 77

by P.O. Dixon

Darcy must have read embarrassment in Elizabeth’s face. He took her by the hand. “If needs be, my love. Why do you ask?” Elizabeth handed him the letter and pointed to her mother’s uncouth sentiments. After reading it, he reached over, cupped her chin, and looked into her eyes. “Consider it done, my love.”

Elizabeth moved to sit on her husband’s lap. One by one, the pages of her letters fell to the floor as she expressed her deep love and affection for him.

“What was that about?” he asked, a quarter-hour later.

“Am I not allowed to show you how much I love you ... however and whenever I choose, my love?”

“You will hear no objections from me.”

“I received several other letters today.”

“From the Gardiners, the Collinses – both Collinses – and Lady Catherine—correct?”

“Indeed. My uncle and aunt Gardiner send their regrets. I am afraid business concerns prevent their travelling so far from London on such short notice.”

“I am sorry to hear it. I have yet to spend any time at all in making their acquaintance. Perhaps we should invite them to visit us during the summer.”

“I should like that.”

“What of the Collinses? Will they be in attendance?”

“Which Collinses do you speak of?”

“Does it matter?” Darcy considered one of the brothers Collins was just as bad as the other. What the one possessed in ridiculousness and sycophancy, the other possessed in haughtiness and arrogance.

Elizabeth suffered little doubt as to where her husband’s thoughts tended, knowing what she did of how little he abided both men. “Fitzwilliam, what manner of family holiday are we to expect if you barely tolerate Mr. Collins?”

“Which Mr. Collins?” Darcy mocked.

“You decide. Besides, I suspect you will bear the elder Mr. Collins far better than you did during your time in Kent. Ben told me about your selfless advice to him to honour and respect Mr. Collins, even when you thought that he and I might wed.”

“I am afraid you are crediting me with far better intentions than I possessed. I knew you would never go through with that marriage.”

“You did, sir? How did you suppose that?”

“I realised that you were mine from the moment our lips met.”

“You are very confident, are you not?”

He smiled at this description of himself. “Well, there is that. There is also the fact that I am nothing if not patient, my love.”

In one week, the guest list was known to all and the arrival dates of all were fixed. Elizabeth had given in to Ben and Georgiana’s request to decorate the halls of Pemberley with fresh greenery and sprigs of holly, sooner rather than later, all superstitions about engaging in such activities before Christmas Eve aside.

Nothing proved more entertaining to young Ben than witnessing his father honour his mama under the mistletoe. The fact that Ben and Georgiana had seen fit to adorn every room with the leafy green plant with waxy white berries gave them the occasion to witness the spectacle with alacrity.

As they did most evenings, Darcy, Elizabeth, and Anne sat around the fireplace whilst Georgiana exhibited on the pianoforte with Ben seated next to her, turning the pages at her subtle cues.

Being the grown-ups in the room, it was incumbent upon Darcy, Elizabeth, and Anne to consider with great determination what the upcoming weeks might bring, to imagine every conversation they might have with estranged relatives, and to calm their anxieties and fears with what they concocted as the perfect discourse to every possible encounter.

Anne welcomed the news of the imminent arrival of her mother with a mixture of trepidation and uncertainty. She and Lady Catherine had barely corresponded during the weeks since Anne decided to make Pemberley her home. For once in her life, she enjoyed a sense of belonging. Was the peace of mind and sense of worthiness she now enjoyed about to be snatched away, stolen by her mother should she demand that Anne return to Rosings Park to live with her?

She took some comfort in the notion that Richard planned to join them for Christmas. He would protect her from her mother, should it come to that. It vexed Anne that her uncle might persist in his scheme to force her into a marriage with Richard. The last thing she wanted was a marriage of convenience, especially after bearing witness to the joys of a true love match, as evidenced by her cousin, Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth. That being said, should the genial feelings she and Richard shared grow into something more, she surely would not object.

Elizabeth sat in a chair beside her husband on the opposite side of the fireplace from Anne. Joy and contentment shone on both their faces. From time to time, either would reach across and touch the other. Any excuse would do. They liked touching each other. Anne endeavoured to suppress the smile that threatened to grace her countenance. She wondered if the two of them were even aware of how often they behaved thus.

From across the room, Georgiana looked up in time to answer her cousin’s unspoken question with a knowing smile. Everyone’s fondest wish was that any misunderstandings the two ladies had suffered through the years, owing to Anne’s futile pursuit of Darcy, had been forgotten.

Elizabeth admired her son from across the room. He is growing up so fast. The private tutor Fitzwilliam hired is but the first step. Before I know it, he will be off to boarding school.