Imperative: Volume 2, A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (24 page)

“
For jealousy
is
the rage of a man: therefore he will not spare in the day of vengeance.
” His heart nearly stopped.  “Good Lord.  That is me; jealous of my brother taking what I thought was mine.”   His mind filled with the jumbled images and memories of the past years, and rubbing his chest, he looked away from the Bible and up at the bookshelves, and spotted one familiar book from his youth.

Gently, he closed the Bible and approached the shelf.  He took down a thick volume stuffed with notes and letters from generations of Darcys, not just the masters of the estate, but the younger sons, the daughters, and the wives.  He remembered lying on the floor as a boy with his brother, reading over every page and debating what they would leave behind in the great book one day.  Harding remembered the page where he had always planned to leave his great thoughts, and turned to it immediately.  “There, next to Uncle.”  He smiled, reading over his mentor Uncle Horace’s proud description of the day he became a judge.  Turning the page, he found the spot where his brother George was to leave his thoughts, and to his surprise, he found a letter addressed to Fitzwilliam, and sealed with the Darcy crest.  “Why would you leave this here, George?” 

He picked it up, curiosity, even fear, winding around his heart as he wondered what his brother could have left for his son to read.  “Anyone could find this, who is to say that Fitzwilliam would ever see it?”  Shaking his head, he thought of his nephew’s notation of his wedding in the Bible.  “Of course he would find it; he loves this family more than I do.  He has simply been too busy saving it for the past five years to sit down long enough to read.  And where was I all of that time when I should have been helping him?”

“Judge Darcy?” 

Harding looked up and putting the letter back in its place, closed up the book.  “Mr. Barnes.”  He replaced the book on the shelf and turned to the steward.  “What may I do for you?  I find it hard to believe that there is anything that you cannot address on your own.”

“I thank you for that, sir, but there are times when it is not a steward that is needed, but a master.”

“I am neither.”

“But you
are
a Darcy.”  Barnes smiled, “And a judge to boot!  That is what is needed.  I have two of our tenants arguing, and I did not have the opportunity to bring the dispute to Mr. Darcy’s attention before he departed.  They want the master’s word, not mine.”

“So any Darcy will do?”  Harding smiled a little. 

“I suppose that the name does carry more weight than mine.”  He looked down at the bundle in his hands.  “Oh, I will be sending these reports to Mr. Darcy this afternoon if you or your wife would like to include a letter?”

“More on the status of Pemberley?”  He looked at the stack curiously.

“No, as a matter of fact, it is from Longbourn.  Mr. Darcy has been keeping an eye on the estate.  He felt that it was the least he could do.” 

“The man cannot save the world singlehandedly.” 

“Just his corner of it.”  Barnes cleared his throat when the judge looked distractedly to the bookshelves and indicated the library door, “I have the tenants waiting outside of the master’s study . . .”

Harding’s attention returned to the steward and he shook his head.  “Bring them here, that is my nephew’s place.”

“Yes, sir.”  Barnes turned and was stopped by the judge’s voice.  “Sir?”

Glancing back at the Bible, he turned to the steward, “Your predecessor, Mr. Wickham, what did you think of him?”

“Mr. Wickham?”  Barnes’s face lit up.  “He was a good man, an excellent teacher.  I was fortunate to have his guidance, and by that I was prepared when he suddenly died.”

“Did he ever wish for his son to follow in his footsteps?” 

“Yes.”  Barnes nodded and hesitated.  “May I speak freely, sir?”

“Certainly.”

“I think that George Wickham could have been a good steward of a small estate, the problem was that Mr. Darcy, Senior, wished to reward Mr. Wickham, Senior, by indulging his son.  He gave him a taste of a world he did not belong to, and that made him feel entitled.  Young Wickham started coveting Pemberley as if he was the heir, not even as a younger son.  You surely know what I am saying, sir?  You love this estate, but you know your place.  I firmly believe in knowing where you fit into the world.  I rose from groundskeeper’s assistant to steward.  That is my place.  You rose from solicitor to judge . . .” His face coloured as he noticed Judge Darcy’s brow creasing.  “I am sorry sir . . . I am moving away from the subject, but George Wickham stirs my passions.  I always thought that the old master did no favours lifting young Wickham beyond his place, and he proved it by wasting all that was given to him.”

“But if left where he belonged he could have done well.”

“I believe so, sir.  But I suppose we will never know.”  Curiously, he watched the judge.  “Did I answer your question, sir?  I am not sure if I quite did?”

“You did.  You told me that in its way, a Wickham at Pemberley is perhaps not . . . an anomaly.” 

“Yes, sir.”  Barnes shifted uncertainly and indicated the door.  “Shall I bring them in?”

“Yes.”  Harding drew a breath and moved to take a seat behind a desk.  “You do your job, and I will do mine.” 

“WHAT IS THIS?”  Richard asked as he was handed a stack of letters.  He was sitting with his father in the dining room at Matlock House, the morning after their return to London following the wedding breakfast for Anne and Albert at Rosings.

“Popular, are you?”  Lord Matlock looked up from his newspaper and speared a sausage with his fork. 

“Seemingly.”  He sorted through the envelopes.  “Darcy, Judge Darcy, Matlock, Gladney . . .  My general.”

“That one you can toss in the fire.”  His father laughed and held out his hand.  “Shall I?  I am closest.”

“I think that I can manage my own post, Father.”  He set down the letters and selected Darcy’s first.

“What does the judge want with you?”  Lord Matlock asked curiously, tilting his head to read the envelope on top of the stack.

“We began a debate on military tactics.  I imagine he has a new theory.”  Richard sniffed and rubbed his nose, then deliberately opened Darcy’s letter.  Surprise lit up his face as he read.

1 April 1812

Dear Richard,

After you left, I had some time to think over your observations of Gladney and Matlock, and of course, your hopes for their improvement.  To make a long story short, I have already exchanged one round of letters with their stewards.  Ferguson and I have discussed the various problems and we are rather enjoying the challenge of determining solutions that will foster efficiency and garner you better yields.  As Sommerwald and Pemberley are so well run, it is proving to be good fun to sink our collective teeth into the project.  Besides, it gives me something to do, as you know I am completely without occupation here.

Please excuse the large blot of ink above, it is the result of a certain beautiful woman reading over my shoulder and pinching me.  I assure you that she has received a thorough tongue-lashing and will from this point on behave in the meek and submissive manner that all men crave from their wives. 

Another blot.  My letter is beginning to resemble something penned by Bingley.  It seems that I must remind my dear wife that she promised to obey, although by the glint in her eye, I fear that I shall soon be wearing this bottle of ink.  Ah yes, Elizabeth promises that a bath is definitely in my future.

Forgive me; I am uncommonly giddy this morning.  My wife has introduced me to the customs of April Fool’s Day and has gleefully announced her discovery that it is a different business in Scotland than at home.  They seem to be inordinately fond of abusing the buttocks here.  Now you can imagine where I have been pinched.

All jesting aside, I am certain that we can make both estates profitable again, leaving you with a surplus of funds.  My communication with your stewards brought me the surprising intelligence that they may not be as incompetent as it seems, but this is a subject for us to discuss in person.

I apologize if you feel I have stepped over the bounds and assumed control, I assure you, I have not.  I simply do not wish you to lose time while you take care of much more pressing matters in your life.  Matlock and Gladney will hold.   When you return to Derbyshire, or come to Scotland as Elizabeth reminds me to urge you, we will go over everything thoroughly.   I have no doubt that you will soon be directing your tenants and staff as handily you did your men for so many years. 

Please send our regards to your parents and sister.  We hope that Albert and Anne have decided the course they wish to take.  Knowing my aunts, I can imagine that you have celebrated a wedding by now.

Georgiana is growing, both physically, and blessedly in maturity as the days pass.  She is terrified, as are we all, but I continue to pray for a good outcome.  Elizabeth is, as always, the joy of my life. 

We will speak soon. 

Your brother,

Darcy

“Zounds.”  Richard smiled to himself, imagining his staid cousin trying to write a serious letter while Elizabeth hung over his shoulder and pinched his arse.  And then he laughed, thinking of Darcy retaliating by turning her over his knee . . . and where that might lead . . . “A bath?  At the very least!”   

“Hmm?”  Lord Matlock looked at him curiously.  “How is Darcy?”

“He is well.”  Richard bit his lip and opened a second page written in Elizabeth’s hand. 

Dear Richard,

Since you have done nothing to annoy me of late, I will pass on some news for you.  It seems that a certain young woman has become rather pensive.  Coincidentally, her behaviour began within days; or hours if you were to believe her exasperated brother, of your departure.  Why, I can hardly begin to imagine.  Nonetheless, it seems that her brothers’ jokes are no longer funny and her patience is stretched to the limit.  I have no idea what your plans may be, but I believe that if you were to come on a visit, the lady in question might have her nagging doubts considerably relieved.  That is, if you are still feeling similarly inclined.  It would be considerate of you to make some indication of your opinion of the old adage; absence makes the heart grow fonder?

Travel safely, for her sake if not for yours,

Elizabeth

“She does care for me.”  Richard spoke softly and laughed.  “And it seems that Elizabeth does as well.” 

“You are grinning like a Cheshire cat.”  Lord Matlock watched his son colour three shades of pink and sitting up, folded his paper.  “And blushing like a debutante.  Is Darcy telling you tales of his love affair with his wife?”

Richard’s smile disappeared and he spoke sharply, “Darcy would never betray his wife in such a way.” 

“Stay your sword, Son!”  Lord Matlock held up his hands.  “I was just trying to provoke a reaction from you.  No, he would not ever tell us what happens behind closed doors.  Although, he certainly leaves enough to the imagination with what he displays when he thinks nobody is looking.”

“That is true enough.  His words say nothing, but imply everything.”  Richard relaxed and closed up the letter. 

His father pushed back from the table.  “I signed off on that little gentleman’s agreement you made with your brother.”  Lord Matlock cleared his throat.  “You realize that it is not legally binding, as I am still breathing.”

“Well . . . barely, you
are
getting on.”  Richard smiled.

“Amusing, Son.”  Lord Matlock said humourlessly.  “I admire that you make demands of him.”

“Nobody ever has before.  I firmly believe that one must be given responsibility in order to live up to the ones that are thrust upon you by default.  He was never challenged.”  Gathering up the letters, he sorted through them, while he ignored his father’s contrite expression.  “And now that he is married, his life will be a never-ending challenge.”

“Ah, to live up to Anne and Catherine’s expectations?”  Lord Matlock grimaced.  “I do not envy him.”

Richard thought of his mother’s identical personality to Lady Catherine and nearly laughed at his father’s wilful blindness, “If I had not seen them together and heard from his own lips that he was at peace with it, I would have refused to stand up with him.  That he threw the both of us out of his rooms and wanted to come to the church alone is another surprise.” 

“I did not expect to have to call the footmen to drag him there, but I also made sure there were no powders within his grasp.”  Seeing Richard’s serious expression, he held up his hand.  “I know, Son, I know how surprising he is at this moment.  I cannot quite grasp, or perhaps, believe, that he is miraculously changed.  I expect a fall sometime.  But on his wedding day, he approached an event that I thought would be utterly wrong, and for the first time in a very long time, he made me proud.”

“I think that I feel the same way.  I am surprised, relieved, but wary.” Lord Matlock nodded and Richard sighed.  “I know that the agreement we made is meaningless, but it makes me feel a little more secure.  Barring him falling under the spell of the opium again, I do not see him waiting for me to repair the estates only to throw me out so he can plunder them once more.  Anne would murder him if he brought shame upon Rosings.” 

“Catherine would as well.  That would settle matters quickly.”  Lord Matlock smiled at his son’s rolling eyes.  “What made you change your mind?”  Richard glanced at him and said nothing.  “Your brother theorizes that you have found a lady?  What is her dowry?”

“I have no idea.”  Richard growled.

“I knew that would provoke you into speaking!”   Lord Matlock laughed.  “Come on Son, tell me about her!”

“There is nothing to tell, only confirmation that my brother cannot be trusted with secrets.”

“Well, as he only had a theory, it is not a secret if you gave him no confirmation.”