Summer at Pemberley

a Jane Austen fan fiction

by Lucy

 

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An Easy Distance

 

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Elizabeth looked up from her book and toward her sister Jane who sat across the room quietly working on a piece of needlework for the coming babe. The sound of Georgiana practicing a Mozart concerto Mrs. Ashton had particularly recommended to her could be heard floating through the air and down the hallway on the gentle cool breeze that wafted through the house on this unspoiled September morning. Elizabeth felt a wave of deep satisfaction and contentment at the tranquility that had settled over Pemberley now their guests had all departed and only Jane and Bingley remained behind. Indeed, not until quiet had rightly settled over Pemberley did Elizabeth apprehend how trying the summer weeks had been, what with Lord Chiltern's mysterious arrival and tense departure, and Lady Catherine's obdurate censure; to say nothing of all the anticipated pressures incumbent upon a first summer as mistress of Pemberley. But now it was all over Elizabeth considered that she had passed the trial admirablyÑindeed in less than one year of matrimony she felt she had come out of many an examination admirably, from London to Matlock to Derbyshire. All her success, she knew, would not have been possible without the unwavering devotion and encouragement of her husband. There had certainly been struggle and disagreement between them in these months, but his confidence in her had never so much as trembled and in that she had found strength. Further, during these summer months they had reached a deeper understanding, a fuller union in which past wounds were healed and they could continue forward with conviction and dedication, prepared for any impediment, any inconvenience. 

 

The thought of inconveniences recalled to her a subject she must address with her sister, and so she roused Jane from her diligent needlework.

 

"Did I tell you Jane that I received another petition from Lydia? We must be sure to inform one another of all her requests that she may not abuse of our purses. She believes it well within her right to expect a weekly allowance from us both, I am sure."

 

Jane was not well pleased with her sister's blithe tone and reprimanded her gently, but firmly. "We cannot be ungenerous with her, Lizzy. We each have so much now, and she has so little."

 

"Hardly!" Elizabeth replied unsympathetically, aware of many more details of the Wickhams' financial situation than was Jane. "But she and Wickham are so irresponsible, so very extravagant they will live always as though they had twice their actual income. They have quite enough to live upon, if they would only choose to act with economy."

 

"Perhaps, but what would you have us do? She is our sister. If she claims need we cannot but respond rightly."

 

Elizabeth rose from her chair, suddenly aggravated and displeased, and walked to the window that the cool, refreshing air might return her to a better temper. "I wish I could be as sure as you are that her claims of need are genuineÑI would provide for her unhesitatingly then. Yet I cannot escape the notion that she wishes only to fulfill some spoilt fancy."

 

"I think it best to respond as though it were in fact genuine need, for what sort of sisters should we be if we were to leave her wanting when we have so much?"

 

Elizabeth rolled her eyes impatiently. "Yes, of course we have no choice. Have no fear; I will send her something, Jane. But it is the one thing I shall keep from my husband."

 

"He knows what they are. Do you not think he imagines you send her money?"

 

"Yes, but it need not be discussed. They remain the one topic we are at pains to speak of."

 

"It must certainly be awkward," Jane offered.

 

"The first misunderstanding we had as husband and wife was due to the Wickhams, Jane. We were married not even a fortnight when Wickham sent a letter to my husband."

 

"He did not dare? What could he say?"

 

"I do not know exactly, but it caused a painful discord nonetheless." Jane furrowed her brow, not wanting to pry, and Elizabeth laughed at her tender concern. "Oh never you mind Jane, it is long past and was peculiarly edifying."

 

Smiling, Elizabeth turned away from her sister and looked out at the prospect before her: outside the parlor was an elegantly appointed terrace that opened into a naturally designed garden and a small arboretum with trees that had flowered in the spring and under which she had walked hand-in-hand with her husband when they were first learning all the possibilities of the love they shared. She wondered if she would ever grow wholly accustomed to living surrounded by such beauty. Some days she almost felt as though she were a stranger only just arrived to Pemberley, so affected by its elegance and beauty was she still. And yet, she was not at all a stranger to its splendor, for if she and her Darcy were so united now their confidential walks amidst Pemberley's beauty had been a vital component of arriving at this ever so gratifying union of minds and hearts. She recognized now that another source of their deep understanding was precisely those painful disagreements in which they had been able to learn so much about each other's hearts. The discomfiture produced by Wickham's letter had, in the end, been but another opportunity for their mutual understanding to increase and now she recalled only the sweetness of reconciliation.

 

They had been in London not even a fortnight and were preparing to journey on to Pemberley for the Christmas season. Sitting together in the library, Elizabeth read a book while Darcy reviewed the papers and correspondence he had left neglected since well before the morning of their wedding. Still in the initial flushes of marriage and indulging in all the intimate discovery inherent in those first delicious weeks of union, she had wanted very much only to watch him at his task, but she had been embarrassed to do so, still not wholly at ease with the powerful emotions the nearness of him now inspired. Turning to her book she had made to read, but was soon released from her facade of independent activity when she had heard him grouse in a most uncharacteristic manner. Looking up she saw him reading a letter, his visage suffused with an air of violent animosity.

 

"My love, what has upset you so?"

 

Darcy looked up from his letter and the sight of his lovely bride's concern softened his appearance. "Nothing of consequence," replied he evenly.

 

"Please tell me."

 

"Truly, it is of no consequence. Do not concern yourself."

 

She stood and approached him, a pouting expression upon her lips. "Were we not to be companions in every way?" she insisted with a teasing gravity he found inexpressibly appealing. She was gratified to see him smile, if only for a moment.

 

"Very well. It is a letter from Wickham."

 

"Oh!"

 

"A most audacious and disingenuous letter!" As Darcy continued to speak his anger rose; so caught up was he in his abhorrence for the correspondent he did not notice her reaction to his harsh, imperious tone. "The man has no scruples; no sense of shame. I would never dare ask you to close your doors to your own sister, but you must know I shall never welcome him."

 

He cast the letter aside with disgust, thinking the matter settled.

 

"I understand," she replied softly. Her manner downcast, she turned from him and wandered pensively toward the mantel. Her small, lovely hand played nervously with the adornments of a clock which sat thereupon. Darcy watched her for a moment in silence, completely at a loss to what her activity and posture could portend. He stood, as though to approach her, but he did not know how to interpret her gaze, her tone, her departure from his side, and did not go further, unsure of himself.

 

"You cannot truly be angry with me?" Darcy cried after a long, disconcerting stillness engulfed the room and strained the companionable calm that had earlier pervaded it. Elizabeth did not turn toward him and made no reply, but he saw her head sink lower. Thinking her sympathetic to the gentleman's cause, he responded to her silence with undisguised ire. "That scoundrel will never cross any threshold of mine!"

 

Her continued silence further discomfited Darcy. Neglected memories of her past chastisement of his character rose vividly in his mind, and with something like desperation he added: "You must understand this is not some foolish resentment. Surely, you must understand me."

 

Within a moment she was before him, his hands grasped tenderly within her own: "You have misapprehended me. I should consider myself fortunate to never see that man again, although he be my poor sister's husband."

 

"Then why such displeasure with me?"

 

"It is not displeasure with you, but for you. That you should be made to bear such mortification for my sake: Brother-in-law to the man you most abhor! Indeed, there was a time I thought you would never come to me again because of my association with him. How could you?"

 

"How could I? Did you really believe my abhorrence for him could guide me more strongly than my love for you?" He winced, pained at the thought. Darcy was angry that even at their worst moments she should have thought so little of his constancy, of the depths of his feeling. He spoke softly, making no effort to mask his vulnerability. "I thought you knew me better. Even then."

 

He tried to withdraw his hands from her grasp, but Elizabeth held firmly, instinctively understanding this dissonance was about something more than George Wickham.

 

"Perhaps I did not then. But I do now. Still, I cannot, in the face of such a letter, deny that you have borne many mortifications for my sake."

 

Darcy was oscillating between anger and despondency; he did not know what to make of this strange, discomfiting tension. Their marriage was not yet a fortnight old, he could not bear to have Wickham intrude on them so soonÑthat he would was of course inevitable, as it was inevitable that for Elizabeth's sake he would in due course provide further assistance to the unworthy scoundrel. But at this moment Darcy only cared that the sweet, almost blushing intimacy they had shared since they wed was broken. She was ashamed and he did not know how to alleviate her distress; and yet that it was on his behalf was undeniably heartwarming.

 

He wrapped his arms around her, almost forcefully bringing her to him, desperate to close this awkward breach. "Pray, have you not borne mortification for my sake at the hands of my aunt?"

 

"You are being generous. It is not the same. What is a little insolence from a person who was nothing to me? Whereas you, you have willingly aligned yourself to the person who has most betrayed you and your family, for my sake. You know it is not the same and I will not have you pretend it is to appease my shame that he should be my brother."

 

"Elizabeth, my love!" he had whispered in passionate tones--the recollection of which still sent shivers of anticipation down her spine. "You have said it yourself. I have willingly aligned myself to him. I should bear much more than Wickham's insolence and shamelessness for your sake, Elizabeth. I should bear so much more for the privilege of calling you my wife."

 

In that moment, in that strained passionate declaration, Elizabeth had comprehended as she had never comprehended before all she was to him, she had understood fully what it signified when this tall, powerful and sometimes imperious man declared to her simply and without adornment: 'I love you.' And she wondered if she knew how to make him comprehend that her regard, though not as long established, was certainly now of like fervor.

 

Overcome with the recollection Elizabeth hastily excused herself from her sister's side just as Bingley was joining them and went in search of her husband, desirous of giving him a simple, spontaneous demonstration of her affections.

 

As was his wont at this time of day she found him in his study. As she entered his room she smiled to herself, finding him in just the same position she had been recollecting, behind a desk, encumbered with papers and scanning a piece of correspondence, only this time the expression of his countenance was eager and light.

 

"Do I disturb you?" Elizabeth inquired, as she entered the room and softly closed the door.

 

Darcy looked up and smiled broadly. She was still amazed that a man who had the capacity to look so cold and closed, when he smiled, appeared all the contrary. She had teased him once that had she but taken the time to note his smile when they had first been acquainted she could never had stopped herself from loving him. He had blushed like a boy at her pretty compliment, to which she had found no recourse but to place her arms around his neck and call him her 'darling boy' before kissing him tenderly.

 

He did not respond to her question, nor to the expression of adoration so clearly upon her face. Instead he rose from his desk and with the letter in one hand he grasped her around the waist with the other and spun her back toward the door. "Come, we must locate Bingley."

 

"I have only just left him with Jane in the blue parlor."

 

"Excellent!" Darcy declared. When she did not move, he grew impatient. "Come, you will wish to hear this as well."

 

As he strode into the parlor, he waved the letter in the air like a flag. "Bingley, I have it!" he declared almost triumphantly.

 

Bingley looked inquiringly from Darcy to Elizabeth, who merely shrugged her shoulders in confession of her ignorance. "Have what, Darcy?"

 

"Tethering Hall!"

 

Bingley simply stared back at his friend looking baffled.

 

"Think man!" Darcy cried impatiently. "We discussed this when you first arrived." Bingley's confusion did not abate at such a declaration, but Elizabeth's and Jane's eyebrows shot up in understanding and anticipation.

 

"Tethering Hall is to be sold. I have it from my agent, who is also agent to the current owner of the hall."

 

"Why should that excite such anticipation on your part?"

 

Darcy rolled his eyes at his friend's practiced stupidity. "In my anticipation did I neglect to mention that Tethering Hall is no more than 30 miles from Pemberley?"

 

"Why Darcy old man!" Bingley cried in response. "Have you been looking out for an estate I might purchase?" With an amused smile he turned to his wife. "This, Jane, is why I always depend on Darcy. He organizes my life so efficiently."

 

Elizabeth and Jane could not but laugh at such a statement, which only served to aggravate Darcy. "We did discuss this," he offered with slight reprimand.

 

"In passing."

 

Bingley's reply had just enough glib laziness to exasperate his friend, who threw the letter down onto the table in expression of the same. When Darcy spoke again his tone could not disguise his sense of poised authority. "You can do with the information what you will then. But it's a fine old estate and it is high time you have your own, as your father had hoped. It will not do for a married man with your resources to continue letting. Furthermore, I should think bringing your wife into so easy a distance from her beloved sister would make this estate of some particular interest. But I shall not interfere."

 

At such a declaration of disinterestedness, Darcy's three companions could not but attempt to disguise their insipient laughter beneath their hands, only increasing his indignation. As he seemed to throw his chin high into the air in response to such mockery, Elizabeth, at least, could no longer hold back her laughter.

 

Bingley rose from his place at Jane's side and placed a hand upon his friend's shoulder. "Really Darcy, you can be a bit high-handed. I thought Lizzy had cured you of that! Shall we ride out to see it, and if it is a pleasant enough prospect, we can go again with the ladies."

 

"As you wish," was Darcy's succinct and portentous response as he turned on his heel and left the room. Whether he heard the fit of affectionate laughter that followed his exit is questionable, but not two days passed before the gentleman rode out to Tethering Hall for a look at the fine old estate. It was quite late when they returned so that although their anticipation had been great, each gentleman found his wife in her rooms preparing to retire.

 

"I do have the conviction, my love, that by Christmas it shall all be resolved," Darcy asserted, removing his coat and tossing it carelessly upon a bench at the foot of her bed as he strode across the room to where his wife sat upon a settee awaiting his return. "You shall have your Jane within a mere 30 miles distance."

 

"So quickly?" inquired she as she rose to greet him with a tender, easy kiss upon the lips. "Without Jane's consent? Without looking at any other properties?

 

"Jane's consent will hardly be difficult for Bingley to attain and you know how impulsive his decisions can be. In this case I see no difficulty because I know it to be a fine estate. He could make much of it, with diligence. We shall all go and visit it forthwith and then I am sure it shall be settled with alacrity."

 

"To think, with all my sources of happiness, I may have Jane too at such an easy distance. And it is all your doing!"

 

"Mine? Hardly. I have learnt to not meddle in Bingley's personal decisions."

 

Elizabeth lifted her face to her husband's, and he could not but admire her charming, impertinent smile. "Oh, you may have learnt that you ought not to, but you still command him as easily as ever. Do you really consider it probable that he should have acted so quickly without your guidance?"

 

Darcy shrugged his shoulders indifferently and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close into his embrace. "I do not care to consider that matter, it is rather dull. I would much rather you detail those sources of happiness you just mentioned."

 

Elizabeth laughed playfully before responding. "Oh certainly, sir. Why Pemberley really is the most elegant home, nothing can compare. And the prospect from every window is charming. And such a park for my walks, and such pretty dresses I have, and ever so many new little trinkets."

 

Shaking his head, Darcy smiled as he looked joyfully into the blooming face of his much beloved wife. "My teasing little minx. I see I shall have to correct your gross misapprehension as to where the source of your happiness lies."

 

Sweeping her into his arms and into her bed he made haste to right any mistaken notions she might entertain. Some time later, he chuckled happily as his wife languidly whispered: "Oh, yes, and did I neglect to mention that, although I had not thought so at first, it would seem Mr. Darcy is indeed quite tolerable enough to tempt me."

 

 

Epilogue

 

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Summer at Pemberley Index

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All stories (c) Lucy 2003-2005