Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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Come Away
with Me
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"That was the last outstanding item, sir," said
Mr. Fairfax to Mr. Darcy. "I would suspect that, barring any emergencies
or unforeseen complications, the following month's activities should be quite
regular and I will have little reason to consult with you. Your instructions
are quite clear, as is customary."
"Good, good," Darcy replied more abstractedly
than was his want as he rose from the desk and walked toward the window. He
looked out toward the trout stream for a moment, thinking nothing at all about
what his steward had just reported. He was in an ill-temperÑhe had been thus
since the unpleasant business with Lord Chiltern a few days back--and he could
not escape it. He felt restless, out of balance, agitated and impatient.
"Will that be all then, sir?" Mr. Fairfax
inquired as Darcy turned his attention back to his steward. He was accustomed
to Mr. Darcy's thoughtful silences and took neither offence nor exception.
Indeed, it was one of the things Mr. Fairfax most admired in his still young
master: he was as judicious in his words as he was in his administration.
"Yes, that will be all Mr. Fairfax. Thank you most
particularly for your excellent counsel on the Swifton matter." As Mr.
Fairfax bowed and made to exit, Darcy stopped him a moment. "Mrs. Darcy
would have you inform Mrs. Fairfax that she intends to pay a call tomorrow; she
would like to see for herself how your boy is coming along. Miss Darcy may
accompany her as well. "
"We shall be, as always, greatly honored sir by her
consideration. The boy does continue to improve, but I will confess that Mrs.
Darcy can make him smile more readily than any other. She is always
compassionate and generous to my poor boy."
"Yes, well, very well then." Darcy remarked,
pleased with the compliment to his wife but unable to pull himself from his
terribly ill temper. As Mr. Fairfax made to speak again, Darcy waved his hand,
a clear sign that the subject was closed and no further comment required; Mr.
Fairfax appreciated Darcy's dislike of the trivial and rejection of
obsequiousness. He had the management of the Pemberley estates going on six
years now and he often remarked to his wife that it had been a true pleasure
and privilege to behold Mr. Darcy's evolution: when he arrived at Pemberley he
had found a young man who, though well educated and prepared, strained under
the enormity of Pemberley's management finding himself so soon after his
father's death without the counsel and knowledge of the estate's long-time
steward; he had matured now into a confident, sensible and liberal master. Mr.
Fairfax had often pondered, with some trepidation, upon the likelihood of Mr.
Darcy wedding a fine lady from town with little taste for the munificence that
the mistress of such an estate can proffer upon the community. Mr. Darcy had
certainly surprised the neighborhood in a most delightful fashion. It did not
take long for his handsome and lively wife to win the affection of nearly all
and sundry with her warmth and her unaffectedness; and it took not much longer
for her intelligence and sensibility to be equally well regarded. For Mr.
Fairfax, that he should have chosen such a wife, a clear value to the Pemberley
estates, merely added greater admiration for Darcy's person. As Mr. Fairfax
exited the room he felt the keen satisfaction of knowing that all was well at
Pemberley and that with each passing year Mr. Darcy was verily exceeding the
acknowledged excellence of his late father.
Darcy's mind, however, was not similarly at ease and as
Fairfax closed the door quietly behind him, he began to pace the vast expanse
of his elegantly appointed study. Pausing in the middle of the room, he threw
back his head and sighed. He was in no manner enthusiastic about Lady
Catherine's imminent arrival. On the morrow the Gardiners were to arrive and
the following day his aunt. His every muscle tensed as he imagined Lady
Catherine's indignation to find across from her at table a tradesman; and he
found he doubted her ability to see the quality of said tradesman's character.
As he anticipated Lady Catherine's arrival, every abusive and scathing
protestation in her letter resounded in his ears and he felt perhaps a greater
rage than when he had first received her perverse missiveÑnow that his
knowledge of Elizabeth was of such greater profundity he found Lady Catherine's
invective still more painful, and his indignation not at all spent. At this
instant he rued that Elizabeth had persuaded him to seek reconciliation.
Nonetheless, he had recognized that he must allow her an opportunity, just as
Elizabeth had done with him, and so welcome her to Pemberley he must. With another
sigh he pulled out his watch and saw that the hour was still early and that the
household would still be at table.
Darcy walked into the breakfast room and scanned it with
frustration. The table was far too occupied for his liking and in the center of
the boisterous mess was his wife. He felt his earlier irritation rising anew.
The Thorneys had resolved to prolong there stay another se'nnight; the
following days were to bring more guests and the house would not be empty again
until well nigh September. With barely a 'good morning', he sat at his place
and listened to the group making plans for the day: Ashton and Bingley were set
on fishing and were urging all the gentlemen to join them, while Mrs. Thorney
was determined to be less indolent and proposed all the ladies take an
excursion into Lampton to see the village shops and have a cup of tea at the
Inn; Mrs. Ashton, for her part, was begging off the excursion and soliciting
the ever modest and compliant Jane to sit for another drawing; whereas Miss Bingley
and Sir Patrick seemed to share indifference to each offered scheme. Before he
could hear any more suggestions for another group excursion, Darcy decided he'd
had quite enough of so much amiability and companionship.
"You are all of course welcome to whatever may be
required for your enjoyment," Darcy remarked, at which proclamation he, as
was habitual, quieted the table. The party observed him in silence and waited
for him to continue. Elizabeth still found remarkable the authority his every
word or action commanded over his circle of friends and acquaintances.
"Mrs. Darcy and I will be unable to accompany you during any excursions
you should choose to make today. Georgiana," he continued as he turned to
his sister, "I know you will ensure that our guests have whatever they
desire for their comfort."
"Pity!" Bingley offered. "It's a fine day
for some sport. Nothing unpleasant I hope?"
"Nothing unpleasant at all, merely estate business
that must be attended today and which we must see to jointly." He finished
his coffee and rose from the table. "Mrs. Darcy, when you have finished I
will be awaiting you in my study. And now, if you will all excuse me, I wish
you a most pleasant day." He bowed elegantly and was gone not a quarter of
an hour after having joined them.
In front of a room full of guests Elizabeth naturally did
not question her husband and silently acquiesced. That something was afoot was
clear, for he had made no mention earlier in the morning about any estate
business and he was undeniably in a bad temper. After a reasonable amount of
time, Elizabeth excused herself and went to join Darcy in his study. As she
entered the room she closed the door silently behind her. Darcy sat in a chair
by the window; he did not at once perceive her presence and she found she did
not know whether to frown or smile at his obvious state of petulance.
As they had come to know each other better during the short
time of their courtship and the first months of marriage, Elizabeth had found
Darcy surprising in many ways; perhaps nothing had been as unexpected, so
shocking and amusing at once, as discovering that her emphatically dignified
husband would, from time to time, display what could only be termed a rather
undignified inclination toward a petulance worthy of a child of no more than
five. She found it at once an implausible propensity in a gentleman so noble
and yet also oddly appealing.
The first time she had witnessed such singular behavior was
during their courtship. They'd had a particularly trying few days and Darcy had
set his mind on a long and private walk, regardless of the cold late autumn
winds that would be sure to accompany them. Indeed, so much the better, Darcy
had thought, as it would offer the devoted lover an opportunity to keep his
bride closer than perhaps propriety strictly required. "Just an
hour," he had said to her the prior evening, "pray, grant me just an
hour that we may be uninterrupted and completely alone." But when he had
arrived with Bingley the following day he had found Longbourn filled with
unexpected visitors all come to congratulate the Bennet sisters on their
impending nuptials, as well as, more specifically, to visit with Elizabeth
before she departed the country. Darcy had attempted to take the disappointed
plans with tolerable ease, taking some pride in the obvious high regard with
which his bride was held in the neighborhood and imagining with satisfaction
the success she would surely find in her new home; but when he heard Mrs.
Bennet extending what for him was a most unwelcome invitation for all to remain
and dine in family, Darcy could not restrain himself and let escape an audible
sigh of displeasure. "Clearly our walk must be forfeited," he had
remarked coolly to Elizabeth, and then he had turned to Mr. Bennet and inquired
if a newspaper might be available. Said article procured, he then sat down in a
chair in the corner of the room with undisguised exasperation. Elizabeth was on
the verge of vexation upon witnessing such behaviorÑso little effort to please,
such an obvious wish to be left undisturbed and unencumbered by conversation
was too reminiscent of his earliest days in Hertfordshire for her likingÑbut
she was distracted from her irritation by the sound of her father's voice close
to her ear.
"My dear Lizzy," he had whispered jovially.
"Your lover has proven a source of ample interest since the two of you so
shockingly upset my equilibrium by declaring your intentions, but never since I
have begun to know him better have I found him so amusing as at this
moment."
"Whatever can you mean, Papa?"
"Why my dear girl, even you must be surprised to find
that your recalcitrant and proudÑoh do not look at me so, he is terribly proud
my dear, whatever you may argue to the contrary. But I digress from his present
disposition. Are you not infinitely amused to find him capable of such
petulance my dear? Why it is absolutely delightful. I should have thought him
too dignified for such spoilt behavior. But then, he is used to his own way and
it must be terribly difficult to give all control over to a room full of
gossiping neighbors and to Mrs. Bennet's partridge dinners. Oh, the lengths one
will go to for love, my dear. Such extraordinary lengths! Such a display of
delightfully undisguised peevishness is not to be squandered!"
"Papa!" Elizabeth had cried, not at all pleased
with this picture of her betrothed.
"Oh do not be alarmed my dear. It is all so amusing. I
assure you that he is rising every hour in my esteem. I admire all my three
sons-in-law highly,'' he added. "Wickham, perhaps, is my favorite; but I
think I shall like your husband quite as well as Jane's.'' To which provocation
Elizabeth had rolled her eyes and walked away.
"My dear Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth remarked playfully
as she recalled that first bout of petulance and observed him sitting now in an
equally irritable state. "Charles had once warned me about what a terrible
fellow you could be on a Sunday evening in your own home and with nothing to
do. But he never said anything at all about a Tuesday morning with a house full
of visitors."
Darcy turned to face her without rising from his chair. He
made no comment in return, he simply looked at her, boldly and unabashedly, from
head to foot, and silently reflected upon how well simple muslin gowns suited
her.
"Estate business, my dear?" Elizabeth inquired
skeptically as his gaze came to rest at last upon her own.
"Of the greatest importance," he replied as he
held out his hand to her. "Come and I will explain." As she placed
her hand into his he pulled her onto his lap.
"Mr. Darcy, what if someone were to walk by your
window?"
"They will not; they are too busy gorging themselves
at our table."
"Unkind, sir." Darcy summarily dismissed her
concern with a slight shrug of the shoulders. She continued to insist:
"Pray, do tell me what, exactly, is this estate business which will keep
us occupied for the entire day?"
"It would appear," he began in a tone of inflated
solemnity, "the Master of Pemberley is suffering a crisis of grave
proportions. He has grown quite unhinged, and if he does not procure an entire
morning of uninterrupted society with the Mistress of the estate he shall go
quite mad, in which case innumerable families dependent on his good management
will be most adversely impacted."
Elizabeth could not but laugh at such foolery. "Truly,
my dear, sometimes I cannot comprehend that the world takes you so very
seriously. They all think you such a fine, upstanding gentleman, a model of
solidity, and you really are no more than a spoilt boy."
"I am not a spoilt boy!" replied Darcy with some
degree of pique.
"No?" she asked, unconvinced. "Well then,
tell me in truth why you are so very irritable this morning and why you wish to
avoid the society of our guests."
Darcy looked at her gravely and frowned. "You will not
be angry with me?"
"Why do you always think that I shall be angry? Am I
so very ill tempered?"
"Not at all, quite the contrary; but some matters I do
not speak of with great adroitness and I have been know in the past to
consequently inspire your displeasure."
"Such pusillanimity is not becoming. Speak freely or
indeed I shall be displeased."
Darcy chuckled at her impudence before adding in a serious tone:
"I find myself surprisingly unsettled with regard to our forthcoming
visitors. And I do not know how I shall react to Lady Catherine when I must
actually face her, nor do I trust how she will behave toward you, or toward the
Gardiners. I have already had the unpleasant experience of removing one
unwelcome guest from Pemberley and I would not relish the necessity of having
to do the same with my own aunt."
"You should not have so little faith. She would not
have agreed to come if her intentions were not honorable."
"She is hardly predictable in this situation and I
fear where our union is concerned she is capable of rash imprudence."
"Do you doubt I will be a proper hostess?"
"That is an unjust accusation, Elizabeth."
"Because you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Implicitly?"
"Yes."
"Then do not fret so and do not torment yourself with
what may be. I can assure you this much: unpleasant moments will undoubtedly
occur; it is inevitable. Nevertheless, in the end she will have no choice but
to acknowledge that I have neither disgraced you nor ruined you." She
smiled and made as if to straighten the knot of his cravat, regardless of its
state of sartorial perfection.
"Such confidence."
"If you have faith in me why should I not have
confidence?"
It was now Darcy's turn to smile. He marveled that he had
ever lived without her presenceÑat once so calming and so invigorating.
"My sensible little wife," he said at last. And then, rather without
warning, he cried out in exasperation: "I am impatient for time alone with
you! If that makes me a spoilt boy, so be it. Georgiana is old enough to act as
hostess for a day and Jane is here for whatever she might need. Let us
disregard everything and everyone for a day. Come away with me, Lizzy!"
Darcy so rarely called her 'Lizzy', that when he did, always with an intimate
resonance, she could deny him nothing; and it displeased her just a bit that he
well knew this to be the case. "My dearest Lizzy, what say you?"
His tone was so earnest and his furrowed brow revealed such
anxiety she could only answer as he wished. They were, consequently, soon
thereafter en route to a particular grouping of sheltering trees atop a hill in
the southwest corner of the park, a full five miles from the house. They rode
out in a companionable silence, and with Elizabeth's hand neatly tucked in the
crook of his arm as he drove the curricle, Darcy felt more composed and
peaceful than he had in many days. This was, he felt, precisely what he
required before facing the certain awkwardness of his aunt's visit.
They arrived at the hilltop and laid out a blanket at the
edge of the trees. Darcy removed his hat and coat, and looked down upon
Elizabeth contentedly: she had neatly wrapped her feet beneath her and gazed
out at the valley as her delicate fingers untied her bonnet. Removing it, she turned her gaze toward
Darcy, her eyes alight. "You will think it preposterous, I am sure, but
some days I still disbelieve that this is my home and that such varied and
marvelous beauty is always within my easy reach."
"Why should I think you preposterous?" he
inquired, seating himself at her side. "Do you think that I do not often
wonder at how my life has altered since you became my wife? Perhaps eight
months should be time enough to grow accustomed to such change as you have
wrought, but I find it quite insufficient to diminish my awareness of all I
have benefited."
"My dearest husband," she replied as she took his
hand within her own. "You have given me so much. You are so very tender
and devoted. I do also wonder sometimes if I am deserving of all your
generosity and goodness."
"Now you are being preposterous."
"Perhaps. I do so love you and I do not believe that I
tell you that often enough. And now," she added with a laugh, "before
I become unduly mawkish, let us see what Cook has surprised us with."
Turning their attention to the generously stocked basket of
goods, they leisurely and contentedly picked their way through the delicacies,
all the while in a conversation at once meaningless and meaningful, the sort
that holds no other purpose then to relish in the sound of a beloved's voice.
Darcy was feeling particularly well now, calm and reflective. He was happy in
the most simple and purest of manners. Finishing the peach he had been savoring,
he threw the pit over his head and into the trees and wiping his hand on a fine
linen napkin, he lifted Elizabeth's hand and kissed it purposefully.
"Did I never tell you that I had planned to bring you
here last summer when we had met so unexpectedly? I believe not a half an hour
after finding you on my lawn I was set on courting you properly. Of course,
this is indisputably preferable, for now you are my wife and then I could not
have brought you here without proper chaperonage. I should have been required
to suppress my desire to simply have a moment alone with you and I should have
been required to try to win you under the far too perceptive gaze of the
Gardiners. And of course I could not have brought your traveling party and not
included mine. I should not have had even a single word alone with you I am
sure. After all, perhaps our own particular manner of finding one another was
far better."
Elizabeth laughed, delighted as she always was when in
their private company he became playful and whimsical. "But our way was
very painful, my dear Mr. Darcy, and a picnic under such luxurious trees
overlooking a verdant valley is undeniably more agreeable."
"Nonsense; you are not being sensible at all. What an
exasperating afternoon it should have proven to be; I should have ended the day
not one bit closer to having you for my own. But let us forget what was and
what never was and enjoy this moment. I am quite pleased with myself for having
stolen you away from that swarm of guests we so foolishly brought into our
home. Moreover, it shall do Georgiana well to act as hostess."
"Oh, yes of course. Very thoughtful of you," she
replied archly.
"You may tease me all you like, but I would submit
that you were equally in want of such an outing."
"Such certainty!"
"Yes," he replied succinctly as he rose from her
side and walked down the hillside picking yellow wildflowers that were
scattered throughout the grass. Satisfied with his collection, he returned to
the blanket and reclined himself at her side. Resting upon his elbow he began
to fashion a sort of garland.
"Should I wonder how and where you learned to make a
garland?" Elizabeth inquired.
Darcy looked up from his task for a moment, amused. "It
is astonishing how long a five year old girl can be entertained with such a
task as this. There was one summer I believe a day did not pass that I was not
weaving a crown of flowers for Georgiana. But hush, now, you distract me."
Elizabeth smiled as she watched him: he was relaxed and
happy as she had only seen him in the privacy of their rooms; and he looked, as
well, remarkably handsome with his hat and coat removed and his legs stretched
across the blanket, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
"Shall I festoon you like my own Flora?" he said
after a time, without looking up from his diligently employed hands.
"You are very, very silly, sir."
"Terribly," he said as he continued to weave the
flowers together until he had made a workable garland. Completed, he looked
into her face and smiled. "Now, remove your hairpins."
"My hairpins?" she cried in surprise.
"Naturally. How can I possibly crown you Flora with
your hair so properly pinned?" He laughed, adding more earnestly. "If
you do not oblige me I shall simply remove them myself."
With a moment of hesitation, she lifted her hands and began
to remove the pins; his mood was infectious. Darcy watched with unguarded
delight as her hair fell piece by piece from the confines of its gentle
bindings. He had watched her do just this more than once in the privacy of
their rooms, but to see her release her hair in the boundless space of the
outdoors was enthralling. In truth, from the age of sixteen at least he had
been wholly circumspect in regards to all things feminine, mistrusting, as his
father had taught him, of all motivations and intentions. "In pursuit of
your fortune ladies will attempt to beguile you, to entice you with their
charms and arts," he had warned. "They will have you confuse the
heart with the appetites; do not trust your heart, son; trust reason above all
else. And when you are susceptible, well, recall that there are ways for an
unattached gentleman to curb his appetites without endangering his
legacy." And as with all his lessons, Darcy had learnt it well. He had
very rarely chosen to curb his appetites, finding the options distasteful or
demeaning to his sense of honor, and indulged instead in sometimes hard won
restraint; and yet he had safely, easily, guarded his heart until that
unexpected, impertinent young lady with the fine eyes had taken hold of it
without ever having even wished to. He had, in fact, never allowed himself to
explore the thrilling pleasure of observing all the fascinating, sensuous
details of a woman's ways, until, with his beloved wife as his object, he
indulged in such pleasure with near abandon.
Her hair finally released he placed the floral crown on her
head. "There, my own little Flora!" he said with satisfaction. She
blushed under his ardent gaze and he could not but find it stimulating to see
her thus: her color raised, her breath quickened, her abundant, soft hair
falling naturally around her sun kissed face, the slow breeze passing a single
strand in front of her face and nothing but the wide vast horizon around her.
He raised his hand and took a curl of hair and wrapped it
around his finger. Elizabeth was silent, her lips slightly parted; he was in a
strange sort of trance and she could only look into his face and accept the
need swelling in her breast. Words from Milton came to him unbidden from the
recesses of his memory, and he spoke them in a hushed, rich voice, as though
wishing to keep them secret from the very breeze.
"...He on his side
Leaning half raised, with looks of cordial love,
Hung over her enamoured, and beheld
Beauty which; whether waking or asleep,
Shot forth peculiar graces; then with voice,
Mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes,
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,
Heaven's last, best gift, my ever-new delight."
He kissed her then; a lingering, unhurried kiss.
"What if I made love to you right here--my dearest,
loveliest Elizabeth--under the wide beautiful sky?"
Mesmerized by the strange otherworldly mood that had come
over him, as though they truly were in some ancient garden of the goddess, free
and uninhibited, all she could reply was a soft, not quite questioning, not quite
unsure, "Fitzwilliam," as she placed her open hand upon his warm face
to ensure herself that he was no apparition.
Her kissed her again and gently laying her down upon the
blanket he let his eyes travel deliberately across her every familiar feature,
certain, for all the forthright and unashamed passion they had shared, he had
never seen such an expression of almost wild desire therein.
His voice was a whisper now, and like the words he had
earlier recited, was mild as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes. "May I not
love you, Elizabeth, just this once, as though indeed we were such gods and
released from all mortal strictures? I cannot love you enough; let me indulge
this boundless adoration. Elizabeth, let me love you here, let our union be
evermore coupled with the sky, the grass, the breeze."
She was in a delirium, swept away by his words, his strange
hypnotic mood, and his delicate touch. "Yes," was all the reply she
gave and he sank into her enfolding, welcoming arms with an unfettered rapture
and they felt as though they had never before embraced.
And yet, as they returned to the house an uneasy silence
fell between them. They seemed unable to look upon one anotherÑoverwhelmed by
the intensity of the moment as much as by the sheer madness of it all. Darcy
felt he had somehow abused of his own wifeÑpersuading her to a selfish
indulgence of his desires and his mind was spinning with derision, shocked that
he would have made love to his wife atop a hill where anyone could have come
upon them. Elizabeth, seeing his darkened, brooding features, thought only that
even Lydia had never been more wild and unrestrained, that all respect must
wither under such behavior.
"What you must think of me!" she side quietly.
Darcy was completely unaccustomed to seeing his wife in
such an emotional, vulnerable state. He was, indeed, habituated to her
impressive composure in the face of all tribulations and vexations, so that her
current lack of the same allowed him to easily comprehend the extremity of her
agitation. While this served to increase his own displeasure with himself, he
understood as well that this was a moment when he must put his own
mortification aside.
Stopping the curricle, he took her hands within his and
spoke in gentle and caressing tones that belied his own distress. "Pray,
Elizabeth, look at me." She did, but with hesitation, not with her usual,
steady frankness. "I was thinking the very same thing. What you must think
of me! How could I put you in such a difficult spot! It seems I am always
seeking your forgiveness. Will you deny me your generous forbearance when I
most desperately require its balm? Forgive me?"
"I can not forgive what is my own fault. Such
behavior, such wanton behavior!"
"The fault was entirely mine, as you well know." He
paused, composing his thoughts before continuing. "While it shames me that
I should have ever placed you in so vulnerable a situation, I must also confess
that it is only your anguish for which I feel contrition, not the sentiments
which induced me on. For I cannot regret that since I first laid eyes upon you
magnificent feelings and desires have awoken in this proper and well-regulated
soul of mine such as I had never known I possessed. But I promise you this, I
shall never again put you in such a position and I shall make certain that
testaments of my adoration remain where they belong."
A heavy silence ensued during which she considered his
words. She replied after a time: "You must not condescend to exaggeration
to ameliorate my anxiety."
"I do not understand your meaning."
"When you first laid eyes upon me I am quite sure I
awoke nothing but your disdain," she replied succinctly.
"Cruel, teasing woman!" Said he as he took her
into a tender embrace. "I see you are quickly recuperating from our loss
of restraint."
"Yes, I suppose I am. What alternative do I
have?"
Darcy paused for a moment and with a slight hesitation
remarked softly: "And yet my love, I cannot truthfully say that I should
wish it undone."
To Darcy's infinite relief, Elizabeth smiled. "Nor
could I."
It did not go unobserved later in the evening that when Sir
Patrick entered the drawing room and casually inquired as to the success of the
estate business that had kept them occupied throughout the day both Mr. and
Mrs. Darcy turned a most pronounced shade of red. The perplexity at such a
singular reaction was general, if of short duration.
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