Beginning, Next Section
20 December, 1831
The normally peaceful and serene atmosphere of the estate called Pemberley, in Derbyshire, was disrupted severely on this day. The preceding weeks had been spent, watching the events unfold that would bring this disruption about, but nobody had had the temerity or the wish to stop it.
There were those who would call into the question the formerly stated serenity of this particular estate, especially with five lively children inhabiting it. However, this day, and the days immediately following, were to bring even more cause to these doubts.
Some weeks previously, the mistress of the estate, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, had had the splendid idea of gathering a few of their family members around them for Christmas. At first, it was meant to be only her sisters, and her husband's siblings. However, one of the children - the nine-year-old Rose to be precise - had pointed out that, while her mother had three sisters to invite (they had been unable to locate Mrs. Darcy's youngest sister, Mrs. Wickham), her father only had one brother and one sister.
That same night, Rose brought it up at the dinner table, and the other children - Josh and Jane in particular - had picked up on the idea, and before they knew it, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had extended invitations to all their siblings (except, as I have mentioned, Mrs. Wickham), with the addition of seven of Mr. Darcy's cousins. If this made it uneven on the other side now, none of the children mentioned it this time, as the only other relative they could think of that their mother could invite, was their cousin, the Reverend William Collins, and they thought it better just to leave him out of it.
On this day, the twentieth of December, the import of exactly how many people she had invited had just hit her.
7:00 a.m.
"Fifty-four people!" she almost shrieked. Her husband looked up from his place in the bed.
"What's that?"
"Look at this guest list, Fitzwilliam," she said, shoving it in his face. He took it and read it aloud.
"Lord Matlock, Lady Matlock, Lady Jocelyn, Lord Cavendar--just call him Andrew, darling --Lady Sabrina.
"Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, Lady Laura Fitzwilliam, Andrea, Sarah, Holly.
"Sir John Preston, Lady Preston, Anastasia, Robin, Cameron, Marissa--I thought her name was Valerie?--Natasha, Brett, Luke, Phoebe.
"Mr. Andrew Darcy, Mrs. Nellie Darcy, Thomas.
"Mr. Henry Darcy, Mrs. Louisa Darcy, Hannah--are not Thomas and Hannah engaged?
"Sir Brian Callahan, Lady Callahan, Angela.
"Mr. Maximillian Callahan, Mrs. Michelle Callahan, Robert, Sylvester, Julian. What about that little girl they were so in raptures about? Kimberly?"
"The adoption is not official yet; they were forced to leave her at the orphanage until after the new year."
Darcy nodded and continued.
"Sir Christopher Blakeney, Miss Emily Blakeney, Lady Blakeney--Georgiana, rather, I think-- Matthew, Morgan, Annie.
"Mr. James Darcy, Mrs. Kitty Darcy, Ian, Jeremy, Honor.
"Mr. Charles Bingley, Mrs. Jane Bingley, Beth, Henry, Jessica.
"Mr. Laurence Canfield, Mrs. Mary Canfield, Walter, and Catherine.
"Very nice list, darling, though not proper. You mixed up the ranks." He winked at her and handed the list back. She frowned.
"But..." she said in despair, "how are we to house fifty-four people? What was I thinking?"
"You were thinking that our children were being very charming. You were not, in short, thinking about the number of the guest list."
"But not one of them refused the invitation!"
"That is unfortunate. We could have well done without your sister Canfield."
"That was unkind of you, Will," she reproached him. "But I nearly forgot. The actual number is fifty-seven."
"Who do we know who could add only three? Have you discovered something about Lydia?"
"No." Her face clouded over at the mention of her youngest sister. She had not seen her since two years after Lydia's daughter, Sophie, had been born. Lydia had written asking for money, and had disappeared soon after she received it. Three years later, Elizabeth had heard that her sister was back in Hertfordshire, staying with her parents, but had not been able to set out quickly enough to arrive before Lydia had left again.
"We could always ask Georgiana's husband to find her for us."
"I couldn't do that to Georgiana. She always hates it when Mr. Blake--that is, Sir Christopher is gone. But I have invited the Trentons."
"But we have not been acquainted with them in some years!" he said, sitting up on his elbows.
"Yes, but this is the first time in too long that James and Kitty have been in England, and I know he must be wanting to see Lady Trenton, so I thought to surprise him."
"I see."
"Do you disapprove?"
"Not at all, but I hope I will be excused for hiding in my library, once the flood gates are opened."
"You are sounding much like my father," she said, eyeing him mischievously while she continued to look at her list. "I hope I have not begun to resemble his wife."
"Speaking of your parents, why are they not on the list?"
"My mother is ill, and cannot make the trip."
"Is there anything you need me to do to get ready? When do we expect the first arrivals?" He began to get out of bed, finally. Elizabeth moved out of the way when she realized she had been sitting on his knees.
"The Bingleys and the Prestons should arrive this afternoon. Max and his brood will be here this evening, and Georgiana comes tomorrow morning. Are the Blakeneys out of mourning yet?"
"I believe they are still wearing arm bands."
Elizabeth nodded, and setting the list on her dressing table, began to get herself ready, as well.
Meanwhile, in another area of the mansion, Joshua Darcy was making his rounds into his siblings' rooms. Peeking around the door of his baby sister's suite, he grinned wickedly and jumped on her bed.
"Wake up, Rosie! Today's the day! Cousins are coming! Wake up!" He began to sing at the top of his lungs, still jumping on the bed. Rose opened her big blue eyes, stuck out her lower lip, and grabbing her pillow, stood slowly on wobbly legs.
"Don't wake me up in the morning!" she yelled, toppling him with the pillow. He fell on his back, laughing and pushing his blond hair away from his eyes.
"I can't wake you up at night!" he said, giggling.
"Don't wake me up at all!" She hit him again. The corner of the pillowcase caught in his eye and he screamed. Bounding up on his knees, he caught her by the ankles and brought her down on her back. There was much kicking and screaming that ended with Josh sulking and Rose crying as their parents stood over them.
"What is going on here?" Darcy bellowed.
"He ... he jumped on me, and yelled at me, and wouldn't be quiet, and I don't like it when people wake me up!" Rose wailed.
"She hit me in the eye!" Josh protested.
"I hit you with a feather pillow!" said Rose, pounding the pillow with one fist to prove how soft it was. "That wouldn't hurt anybody. And I wouldn't have hit you in the first place if you hadn't attacked me!"
"Attacked you? I wanted you to get up! You have no business being in bed while we're getting ready for company!"
"You jumped on me!" said Rose, and remembered something else. "And you trampled my foot!"
By now, the other Darcy children had wandered into the room to watch. Alex yawned randomly, unaccustomed to rising so early, while Chris seemed to be in perfectly good spirits, having only been home from school for two days so far. Jane was concerned that her brother and sister were fighting so early in the day, when they all had better things to do.
"Josh," said Darcy wearily, "go to your room. I will talk to you in a few minutes."
Josh's face fell.
"But Papa, I only...."
"Go."
Josh's eyes glittered angrily and he muttered a reluctant "Yes, sir." as he left.
"Now, Rose, was it really necessary to hit him?"
"He trampled my foot!"
The mother and father were then occupied for a long time in explaining to their youngest child the benefits of holding one's temper. After this was done, and Rose seemed to have accepted the teaching, they moved on to Josh.
This boy mystified his parents, as much by his remarkable intelligence as by his insistence on getting into trouble every time he was let loose on other people. They tried reasoning, pleading, lecturing, but none of those things could get through his stubborn, rebellious pride.
He frowned as his mother explained to him that some people simply do not like to be awakened by a loud boy jumping on their bed. He frowned darker still when his father told him he would on no account tolerate this sort of behaviour while they had guests. But he did not show any sign of remorse until his punishment was made clear: he would not be allowed to accompany his father to town as he had been promised.
"But you promised!" he said. "You said I could go! You did! You gave me your word!"
"I know, Josh, and I always try to keep my word," said Darcy. "However, I also stipulated that you must behave yourself properly."
Josh threw himself down on his bed, his arms folded across his chest and his face darkened into a deep scowl.
"This is most unfair," he complained. "I hate it when you stipulate."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," said Darcy, and he led his wife out of the room.
"I didn't know you were going to Lambton," she commented.
"There are five days until Christmas, and I still don't have half the gifts I need to give, bought. I think a trip to Lambton is absolutely necessary today."
Fortunately for Elizabeth, the old housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, was more than able to handle an over-large house party, and she only had a very little concern that all would not go well when the first carriage arrived.
3:00 p.m.
Mrs. Darcy was sitting in the parlor with Jane and Joshua when the Bingleys were announced. Alex had gone to Lambton with Mr. Darcy, in Josh's stead, and Rose and Chris had gone off to play at their own games. Therefore, Jane and Joshua were the two privileged enough to be able to greet the first of their cousins to arrive.
Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy embraced warmly, and began chattering instantly about everything that had happened to each of them since they last parted.
"Well," said Mr. Bingley, smiling on his wife and her sister, "if you will point me the way to Darcy, I will leave you two alone now."
While Elizabeth explained to him that her husband was from home, her children began to once more feel comfortable with their cousins.
"Henry," said Josh, looking up at the fourteen-year-old lad, "wanna ... say, what can we do when it's snowing outside?" He began to pout. "This is going to be a devil of a boring holiday, I tell you."
"Don't say devil, Josh," said Jessica Bingley, a pretty girl Jane's own age. "Are we really the first to arrive?"
"Yes, but my cousins the Prestons should arrive later today," said Jane. "Let's go upstairs, to my room, where we can be in private." She took her cousin by the arm and led her to the stairs. "There won't be much privacy left for the next few days."
Jessica laughed.
"What fun! I love being near lots of people."
"Is your cousin Thomas coming, Jane?" asked Beth Bingley. Jane thought a moment and nodded.
"Yes, I suppose so. We invited as many cousins as possible."
"But Beth," said Jessica, "he is engaged."
"I know," said Beth, blushing. "But he is still very charming."
Henry frowned.
"Charming? Last time we met, he..."
But before he could finish, all the girls had left and he was left with Josh, whose good opinion of him it would be disastrous to destroy, so he decided not to relate the humiliating details.
"Where are Alex and Chris?" he asked. Josh frowned, put out.
"Alex went to Lambton with Papa, and Chris is somewhere ... probably painting again. Wanna see my gun?"
"You have a gun?" Henry was immensely surprised.
"Yes. I'm not allowed to use it, because Mama's afraid I'll shoot Rose or something, but I have one."
"What's the point of having a gun if you can't use it?" asked Henry. Josh blinked, puzzled. He had not thought of that.
"I don't know." He smiled broadly. "Do you want to see it?"
"I suppose so," Henry sighed, deciding he'd best humor his cousin.
While Beth lost herself in the library looking for poetry, Jane and Jessica went to find Chris and Rose. They found Chris, as Josh had guessed, painting in the schoolroom. He looked up briefly as they came in, then focused again on his easel, putting his brush in his mouth and doing something to the painting that caused his thumbs to come away smudged.
"Chris," said Jane. When he did not answer she repeated herself, only more loudly, then followed that with a shout of, "Kit!"
His head jerked up and he blinked at them.
"Oh, hello," he said, smiling amiably. "I didn't hear you come in. When did you get here, Jessie?"
"Not ten minutes ago," said Jessica. "What are you painting?"
"Nothing much," he muttered, looking at it critically. "Can't make it out, myself. I don't know what I was thinking."
Jessica and Jane came around to look at it and twisted their mouths, wondering what it could mean.
"Is it an upside-down toadstool on top of a watermelon?" asked Jane.
"No, I know," said Jessica. "It's a cupcake on top of a stack of cakes. I never saw a green cake before."
"It was supposed to be brown, but the colours were somehow ... mixed wrong," said Chris. "It does look something like a cake, doesn't it?"
They heard a loud bang coming from somewhere down the hall.
"What was that?" said Jessica, quite startled.
"Josh set off that gun again," said Jane, exasperated.
Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy rushed to the scene of the explosion. Josh was standing in the middle of the room, struggling to hold the shotgun up with both hands, covered in smoke, and looking extremely guilty.
"Hello, Mama," he said coolly. Henry was standing off to the side, trying hard not to laugh.
"Frederick Joshua Darcy!" Elizabeth exclaimed. Josh gulped on hearing his three names recited. Elizabeth went further. "Frederick Joshua Francis Darcy!"
"You have two F names?" Henry said, biting his lip hard in his efforts to keep a straight face.
"I didn't name myself," said Josh. Rose ran into the room, herself covered in snow. Elizabeth turned stricken eyes on her, as well.
"Rosie! Where is your coat? Why were you outside?"
"I was waiting for Aunt Preston," she said, "when I heard the gun." She looked at Josh, waiting for him to get scolded. "What did I miss?"
Elizabeth ran up to Josh, and turned him to face her. Taking his face in both her hands, she checked to see if he was unharmed. Seeing that he was, she hugged him, ruining her own clothes with the soot, then began the scolding.
"How many times have I told you that gun is not a toy? It is yours, but you are not to have it until your father and I are sure you will not hurt yourself or anybody else with it. We have gone over this before! What were you thinking??"
Josh pled silently with Henry for assistance, but that boy was still doubled over in mirth. Josh sighed.
"I'm sorry, Mama. But I'm not hurt!" he added hopefully.
"It is much too heavy for you," she said, and began to take it from him when Mr. Bingley performed that office for her, much to her relief. "How did you get it down?"
"I-I-I..." Josh stammered, colour heightened considerably. He looked at Henry almost reproachfully. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, bending his head.
"Actually," said Henry, finally gaining control of his laughter and stepping forward, "it was my fault. I took it down, and Josh took it from me. That is when it went off."
"I see," said Elizabeth, looking at her son again, feeling unaccountably guilty. "Well, it was badly done of both of you. Guns are very dangerous things, especially indoors."
"Indeed," said Bingley. "I hope you won't punish him too severely, though, Elizabeth. It was an accident."
"I cannot understand how they came to be in here, when Will and I gave specific orders to keep away from that gun," said Elizabeth, looking sternly at Josh again.
"That was my fault, too," said Henry uncomfortably. His father frowned at him and he looked at his toes.
"Was everything your fault?" asked Rose irritably. She had expected to see her brother punished, not vindicated. Elizabeth opened her mouth to pass judgment, just as a carriage pulled up.
"I will talk to your father about this," she decided quickly. "I don't have the time or wit to know what to do right now. We will wait to hear what he says."
Josh nodded as he went pale, nearly trembling at the thought of his father's wrath. Then he reminded himself it was not his fault, so he needn't worry, and stood up straighter, his confidence returning. Elizabeth sighed.
"Come, let us make our guests welcome, hm?" Taking her two youngest children by the hand, the better to keep them out of mischief, she led them downstairs to welcome the Prestons.
7:00 p.m.
By the time Darcy and Alex came home, the Prestons had also arrived, and the children had meshed into their respective cliques. The Darcy children always enjoyed having their Preston cousins at Pemberley, for there were enough to go around. With other cousins, such as the Blakeneys or the Callahans, they were not nearly so well-dispersed.
Josh watched in disgust as Stacy Preston and Beth Bingley huddled together in a corner with their heads together and snuck sideways glances at Alex, who was trying his best to ignore them. Josh turned to where he had left Henry, and was stunned to find he had been abandoned for the more sophisticated company of his elder brothers and the two older Preston boys, Robin and Cameron. His lower lip began to form a pout. The only other people near his age were girls. No self-respecting eleven-year-old boy would play with girls. Brett and Luke were fine companions, but he had no desire to baby-sit them. But he could not escape now; his mother had told him to show the two brats to their rooms.
Brett's company soon became more tolerable, for Josh found he had an admirer in the eight-year-old. Luke was more inclined to go after Marissa and Natasha.
"Look, Luke," said Jane in an overly-excited voice. "Brett is going with Josh. What are they going to do, I wonder!"
"It never works with him," said Marissa resignedly. "Bribery is our only option. Luke, I'll give you half of my Christmas candy if you go with Josh."
Luke's eyes lit up and he scampered away. Jane stared after him wide-eyed.
"Why doesn't it work with Josh?"
"Because he would wait until you offered him all your candy," said Marissa, rolling her eyes simultaneously with Natasha, who always delighted in scoffing at her brothers. Jane laughed and continued on her way, Marissa and Natasha following behind. Josh and Brett moved carefully out of their way as they passed.
"What do you want to do now, Josh?" asked Brett in a whiny voice which Josh detested.
"I want to go skating on the pond," he said. "But my mother won't let me until it stops snowing. After that, she'll probably say it's too cold, or the snow's too deep, or something." He snorted in disgust.
"Well, maybe we could go after dinner," Brett suggested.
"But what to do in the meantime! I wish Cameron wasn't so stingy with his company. I'll bet they're all having a grand time, doing whatever it is they do."
"Cameron's not stingy!" Luke bristled in defense of his brother. Josh sighed and hoped the Callahans would arrive soon. Two of their sons, Robert and Sylvester, were near his age, and even Julian had been labeled a "great gun" by Josh the last time they had visited. In the meantime, though, he wanted revenge, however petty, on his own brothers, and Brett and Luke were the only ones who seemed willing to help him.
"He won't let you play with him, will he?" he prodded the younger boy.
"No, but...."
"Then he is selfish, and that makes him stingy."
Josh took Brett by the shoulders and began to tell him about his plan to get even. They were interrupted by Rose, who was dragging Phoebe.
"There they are!" she pointed, and they rushed toward the boys.
"Ro-ose!" Josh whined. "Did you have to bring her here?"
Rose looked around and shrugged.
"You're in the hall. I'm allowed to take my cousins through the hall, aren't I? Phoebe wanted to tell you something."
"What's that, Phoebe?"
"I know my ABC's! A, B, C, D, E, F, G...."
"She does this constantly," said Brett.
"Rosie, take Phoebe to look at your dolls."
"Don't call me Rosie!" She gave him a slight shove. "I don't have any dolls; only the ones Jane gave me when they tore."
"Well, Brett and I don't want little girls following us everywhere. So leave!"
"Rosie," said Phoebe, pulling on her sleeve, "Jessie said she'd tell me a story. Will you tell me a story?"
"No," said Rose. "My name is Rose. Not Rosie. Rose." She repeated it again, sounding the single syllable very slowly for emphasis. Phoebe only looked at her as if she had sprouted another head.
"Will you tell me a story, Ros-a?"
Rose puffed out her cheeks in annoyance and sighed.
"Is Jessica having storytime?" Josh asked, his disdain for female company vanishing in an instant. "Which story will she tell?"
"Well, Marissa wanted her to tell the Christmas story, because it nearly is Christmas, but Jane said she had better save that one for Christmas Day, so I don't know which one she's going to tell."
"Maybe she'll make one up," said Brett.
"Then we'd better be there for it," said Josh. "Jessica tells the best stories."
"But Josh," Brett's voice took on the whiny quality again as Rose and Josh began to hurry toward the schoolroom. "What about our brothers? What about revenge?"
"Revenge?" Rose echoed. "Revenge for what?"
"For not letting us play with them," said Brett when Josh refused to answer.
"Can I help?"
"No!" Josh bellowed.
"Why not?"
"Because you're a girl," said Luke.
"So? They won't let me play with them, either. Maybe I want revenge, too."
"Three is better than four," said Josh condescendingly. "You'd get in the way."
"So you won't let me play with you? You're such a hippopotamus, Freddy!" She tossed her head and stalked into the schoolroom. Josh blinked and checked his appearance in the mirror behind the door. When he was satisfied that he in no way resembled such a creature, he joined the others in the schoolroom.
Jessica Bingley was just beginning to gather the other children around for a story, and even Alex and Chris seemed excited at the prospect. Josh took a seat in the back, leaning against a wall.
"Maybe we should wait for Robert and Sylvester," someone said.
"And Julian," said Brett, making sure they didn't forget his favorite Callahan.
"No!" said Natasha. "There will be more stories later. We want one now."
Jessica smiled at her small fandom and settled down cross-legged on the floor.
"Well," she said, "this story is one I'm sure all of you have heard before. That is, you have all heard of the hero. But you see, of all the story tellers I've heard tell the story, none of them mentioned, except in passing, the most important part of the story!"
"What? Who is it?" many voices chorused.
"The hero is a man named Robin Hood," said Jessica. Several of the children giggled and snuck glances at Robin Preston. "But the most important part of his story is his ladye faire, Maid Marian."
"How was she important?" asked Josh, frowning. "All she did..."
"Was save Robin Hood's life several times over!" said Jessica. "When Robin won the archery tournament, who do you think it was who constructed his costume and sent it express to Sherwood Forest by way of Friar Tuck? Who do you think laced Guy of Gisborne's tea with Irish whiskey so that he could not see straight to kill good Robin? When Robin Hood overtook the carriage of the Bishop of Hereford, who do you think was in the carriage, with a dagger pressed to the bishop's back?"
"Maid Marian!" Rose crowed with delight.
"Aye, it was Maid Marian," Jessica grinned, her eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. "And if you'll listen close, I'll tell you all how it came to be that two people so brave as Robin Hood and Maid Marian were, fell in love in the midst of Sherwood Forest."
"Fell in love?" Josh snorted. "A likely story for a girl to tell."
Jessica ignored him and began her story, and Josh soon forgot about his objections. She began to talk, and the story wove around him, teasing him with the wonder of it. As the narrator became so absorbed in her story that she lost track of time, and the sun began to dip into the horizon, the children hanging on Jessica Bingley's every word gasped and cheered at the appropriate times. Josh barely even noticed that the outlaw and the lady were in love, before he fell asleep to dream peacefully of swords and quarter-staffs.
21 Dec., 8:00 a.m.
When he woke again, he was in his own bed and the sun was streaming through the curtains over his window. He pouted for a few minutes, disappointed that he had missed the coming of the Callahans. Poor Robert and Sylvester must have been desolate without his company. Well, perhaps it had stopped snowing. At least he would be able to have a morning skate with his favorite cousins.
He went to the window to see how his skating plans would fare. It had indeed stopped snowing, but what caught his attention was a carriage coming up the drive. The black crepe adorning the equipage told Josh it could only be his Aunt Georgiana. He turned around quickly in the vain wish that he could be the first to greet them. But his mother would never allow him to parade outside in his nightgown, and whoever had carried him to bed had obviously had the temerity to change his clothes, as well. There was not a shirt or a decent pair of trousers in sight. He impatiently shouted for a valet.
21 Dec. 8:00 a.m.
Elizabeth Darcy and Anne Preston waited eagerly for the Blakeneys to disembark from their carriage. Anne had not seen Georgiana since Phoebe was born--Georgiana had assisted with the birth, and they had intended to gather together again as soon as Anne was well enough, but then Sir Christopher's father had died, and all plans had been cast aside--and Elizabeth was almost equally eager to see her sister-in-law.
Christopher stepped down, flashing a quick grin at the people who seemed to be waiting for the unveiling of a great masterpiece, then proceeded to help his wife, sister and daughters out of the carriage. The girls did not seem to notice the service, looking beyond him at the crowd, but Georgiana gave him a secret smile and squeezed his hand most gratefully.
A bright-eyed boy with a grin that matched his father's exactly jumped down from the coachman's perch and quickly pecked his aunts on their respective cheeks before rushing to help the footmen with the luggage. His aunt Emily, who was a mere month his junior, looked on fondly, then whispered her own greetings to her sister Georgiana's relations.
"You are looking well, Emily," said Anne. "So much has happened since I last saw you. I hope you are feeling as well as you look."
"I am much better, Lady Preston, thank you. My nieces and nephew keep me quite too busy to dwell on any grief."
"It is fortunate for you, then, that you have not a chance of appearing to them as a maiden aunt," said Elizabeth. Emily smiled.
"Annie asked me the other day why Emily doesn't call Christopher `Papa', as the rest of them do," said Georgiana. The other women chuckled. Little Annie--thus called to prevent confusion between her and Lady Preston--blushed and wished her mother wouldn't repeat such things to her aunts.
"Mama," said Matthew, "I'm going to take Gabriel downstairs for some hot chocolate."
Startled, Georgiana looked over to where the boy stood with the other footmen. He had come to them only a few months ago. Christopher and Matthew had found him at the docks when they went to see the boats. Half-naked and half-starved, he had not struck Georgiana then as being dangerous in any way. But she had not foreseen that her own son would form a friendship with the older boy.
At first, Gabriel had told Christopher he was twenty-years-old, but later confessed that though he did not know the exact date of his birth, he could not be older than seventeen. After he had gained enough weight to fill out Matthew's clothes, he had proven to be quite a good-looking lad, and even the girls were fascinated with him, if only for his novelty. It was not every day they saw someone with such dark skin, or heard someone with such a strange way of speaking.
Georgiana finally smiled, pushing away any misgivings she had about her children forming attachments with servants, and gave her assent.
"Perhaps Emily and your sisters should accompany you."
Matthew nodded and glanced at Gabriel, who had bounded up with excitement and was now making his way over to his young friend. Emily did not seem so eager to go with them.
"But Georgiana, I wanted to see the rest of the family before I limit myself to only two, whom I see every day."
"By `rest of the family,' she means Alex," said Morgan slyly. Emily glared and Morgan smirked. The younger girl's piercing blue eyes then narrowed at the sight of a young boy hurtling himself toward them.
"Aunt Georgiana!" Josh threw himself at Lady Blakeney. She was startled at first, then gave a nervous laugh.
"Hello, Joshua. I'm glad to see you, too. Please, get down."
"Young man, unhand my wife," said Christopher, peeling the boy's hands from Georgiana's gown and lifting him off the ground. "So, what do we want to be today?" he asked, his eyes level with Josh's. Josh kicked his legs.
"I'm going to be a soldier," he declared. "I will have a sword and lop off people's heads."
"Let's go inside, shall we?" said Elizabeth, taking control once again, and her son by the hand. As they walked, everybody seemed to talk at once. Anne spoke in low tones to Georgiana, who answered back similarly. Matthew assured Gabriel that all would be well, and tried to cajole his aunt into cooperating. Josh tried to squirm out of his mother's grasp, all the while keeping up a conversation with Sir Christopher.
"And why should you want to do that? It must be terribly inconvenient to walk around without one's head."
"If I was a soldier, I would only lop off heads of enemies of England," said Josh matter-of- factly, then began to embellish. "And I would have a vampire dog that would lick up the blood."
"How graphic," said Matthew, his attention distracted by Josh's enthusiastic tones.
"You don't like dogs?"
"Not vampire dogs."
"Oh. Well, neither do I, really; I only thought it would be nice to have one, because blood can be terribly hard to clean up." He looked guiltily at his mother, then back at Matthew. "But do you like swords?"
"Tremendously. But not for lopping off heads."
Josh frowned, puzzled at the lack of bloodthirstiness in his cousin.
"Would you rather write sonnets?" he asked incredulously.
"Matthew is the best swordsman I ever saw!" said Morgan hotly, then amended, "Except for myself, of course."
"What?" said Georgiana, turning to look accusingly at her husband, who grinned sheepishly.
"She wanted to learn."
Elizabeth and Anne glanced at each other and surreptitiously left the room, amused smiles on their faces.
"You can't fence!" said Josh.
"I thought we agreed that the girls would not learn the violent things you insist on teaching Matthew."
"Yes, I can!"
"Really, Georgie," he pulled Morgan close to his side and cupped her chin in his hand. "Can you refuse this face anything?"
"Papa, please!" Morgan pulled away.
"No, you can't!"
"She needs to learn to control her temper, and here you are encouraging her to point sharp things at people."
Morgan was too busy listening to her parents argue, her mouth wide open, to retort.
"I think the lessons are taking away her impulse to hurt people. She is very good at it, and she enjoys it more than Matthew does."
"Well, that is wonderful for him." Georgiana stopped for a moment, then asked, "She doesn't hurt him, does she?"
"No; she never has."
"Except for when she pushed me through the window," Matthew cut in, smiling at the exasperated look his father gave him. Josh was extremely confused. He looked at Morgan's tiny frame, then to Matthew, who had overtaken his father in height, and thought for one instant that maybe the world didn't make sense, after all.
"I didn't do that!" Morgan protested. Josh smiled in satisfaction. "You lost your balance!"
"Pardon me, Gentle Sister, you pushed me."
Christopher was shaking with suppressed laughter at the image presented to him.
"How can you be so heartless?" Georgiana cried.
"But the window had nothing to do with fencing, Mama," Annie piped up. "That was several years ago. You remember."
Georgiana looked blankly at her, then back to Christopher.
"You were in Brighton with Josée," he said.
"And I was in stitches," Matthew quipped. "But you never knew about it; I was fine by the time you came home. Emily, won't you come down for chocolate? Please?"
"I will!" said Josh.
"So sorry, Joshua," said Christopher, reading the plea in his son's eyes perfectly, "I need you to tell me more about being a soldier. Who is here already?"
"Only the Bingleys, Prestons, and Callahans. I mean, Uncle Max Callahan."
"I shall never leave you home with the children again," Georgiana vowed, tweaking her husband's nose.
"Why not? You have done it several times since then, and nothing has happened."
"Unless you count the time...."
"Matthew, take Gabriel to the kitchen," said Christopher. "Emily will accompany you."
Matthew grinned as his aunt huffed and stomped in the general direction of the Pemberley kitchen.
As Matthew, Emily and Gabriel walked toward the kitchen, Emily darting angry glances at Matthew the entire way, they were stopped when a small, waifish figure came out of one of the rooms, turned, and bumped right into Matthew.
Poor Marissa Preston stared up at him in acute embarrassment.
"Excuse me," she said, and began fiddling with her locket.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, determinedly keeping her chin up as if she weren't actually embarrassed at all.
"Perhaps she would like some chocolate, too," said Emily. Marissa's eyes widened.
"Would you like to come with us to the kitchen?" Matthew asked.
"Of course!" she said, and her joy was completely restored when he took her hand, himself, and began walking the rest of the way to the kitchen.
"You see, Gabriel," Matthew turned to his friend, "everybody knows that Mrs. Quenby makes the best hot chocolate."
Marissa noticed for the first time the young man next to her idol. Her eyes widened once again when he smiled, displaying startlingly white teeth against a dark-as-coal background.
"I never doubted it, Mr. Bla--Matthew," he amended at that boy's look. "Any chocolate you gave me would be the best I ever tasted."
"You've never had chocolate before?" Marissa was astonished, and delighted by his accent. She had been surprised when he first started speaking, but then decided she liked it, and called it charming. He shook his head in response to her question.
"It wasn't the custom in the house I was born in for the people to have that kind of thing."
"Why not?"
Matthew and Gabriel exchanged looks.
"It simply was not," Emily replied.
"Oh." Marissa was easily satisfied. "Where were you born? Are you American?"
"Yes, ma'am. I was born near Atlanta."
"Where's that?"
"It's in Georgia," said Matthew, amused at her lack of geographical knowledge.
"Oh. Is that far away from Philadelphia?"
"It's a hike," Gabriel said solemnly.
"Why do you ask that?" asked Emily. "What is in Philadelphia?"
"That's where one of the girls at Stacy's school came from. She didn't talk the way you do, though," she said to Gabriel.
"America is much bigger than England, Riss," said Matthew. "Different sections have different ways of talking, just as they do here." So saying, he pushed open the large door to the kitchen, and greeted Mrs. Quenby with a kiss on the cheek. She insisted on pinching all their cheeks--except Gabriel's--and immediately had their cups of steaming hot beverage before them.
"I knew you were coming, m'boy," she said, gazing fondly on Matthew, her favorite admirer.
Marissa sipped carefully, not wishing to burn her tongue. She was satisfied by careful observation to see that Matthew did the same.
"Where is Alex, Marissa, do you know?" Emily asked.
Marissa shook her head and Emily sat back in her chair, disappointed.
"Who is Alex?" Gabriel asked.
"My cousin. Emily is quite fond of him." Matthew ducked Emily's hand, and both laughed.
"Oh, well, then, Forrest Potter will be very disappointed," said Gabriel.
"Who?" asked the other three in unison.
"The stable boy at Blakeney Hall. He's very sweet on Miss Bla--Emily," he amended once again. Emily did not appreciate this information, and informed him that he could call her Miss Blakeney if it was more comfortable.
"Marissa, do Stacy's friends call Robin and Cameron `Mr. Preston'?" asked Matthew.
"No," Marissa chortled. "Not when Stacy herself calls them `Robbie' and `Cammie'!"
"Cammie!" Emily hooted. "He doesn't like that, does he?"
"No. That's why she does it."
They laughed again and Marissa smiled. The door opened and another little girl peeked in the door.
"Hello, Natasha," said Marissa as her sister came to stand next to her. "Would you like some hot chocolate?"
Natasha nodded, then looked at Matthew.
"Morgan wants you."
"Why?"
Natasha took a breath and rolled her eyes before explaining.
"Josh wanted to go skating, but he wouldn't let Morgan go with him, because she's a girl, so they fought, and now she wants to prove that she can fence better than a boy."
Matthew laughed, then declined the invitation. Natasha shrugged and took the cup Mrs. Quenby gave her.
"Rose and Morgan are very angry with Josh, and he keeps trying to get Julian, Robert and Brett to side with him, but they're all scared of Morgan."
"Everybody's afraid of Morgan," Matthew agreed, then laughed again. "Except Josh."
"Even I'm afraid of your sister," said Gabriel, shaking his head. "This Josh must be twice the demon she is."
"They are very alike," said Marissa.
"True. They will probably spend their lives infuriating each other, like Marissa and Cameron."
Marissa's eyes narrowed at the mention of her brother, and she smiled, slightly embarrassed at the reference.
"I can't wait until Uncle Richard gets here," said Natasha. "Then we'll have more girls. There are too many boys here."
"Fine thing to say," said Emily.
"It's true," said Natasha. "I counted. There are thirteen boys, not including him"--she nodded at Gabriel--"and only eleven girls, including me."
"That's more than I counted," said Matthew. "Has somebody arrived since we've been down here?"
"Oh, yes! Andrew and Henry Darcy arrived, with their families, and Uncle David."
"Sabrina's here!" said Marissa, and she hurried out of the room. Natasha obligingly finished her chocolate for her, then followed her out of the room.
Lady Sabrina Fitzwilliam jumped up from her seat between Jessica Bingley and Rose Darcy, and welcomed Marissa and Natasha into her pleasantly-plump arms. Being the youngest of her father's children, she was accustomed to being everybody's darling, and saw nothing peculiar in the fact that other young ladies, several years her senior, wished to be her friends. She was good-natured, fairly intelligent, more than pretty, but not quite beautiful, and entirely in awe of Jessica.
"Where is Jocelyn?" asked Rose suddenly, after Marissa and Natasha had taken their seats.
"Mama said it was time for Jocelyn to stop spending all her time with us, and learn to associate with the adults, since she is likely to be engaged soon," said Sabrina.
"Engaged?" Marissa said, surprised.
"To whom?" asked Jessica.
"Mr. Frederick Stanton. His father is about to make him a viscount. That's what Aunt Fanny says."
Jessica's nose wrinkled in distaste. She had met Fanny Dashwood once when she had accompanied Henry on a visit to Matlock. Henry Bingley was good friends with Andrew Fitzwilliam, and because of them, Jessica and grown to be closer to Sabrina than she otherwise might have.
"A viscount?" said Marissa. "Does Jocelyn like him?"
"Yes. And William Rhodes, and George Farley, and Virgil Ellis...."
"Oh, my," said Natasha.
"Jocelyn says she likes Freddy, but not enough to marry him."
"Freddy?" said Jane Darcy, just entering the room. "Who is Freddy? Not Josh, certainly."
"No, Frederick Stanton. He will be Viscount Raleigh in a few weeks, after his father dies."
"Oh, how sad," said Jane. "Is he very close to your family? I never heard of it...." She looked confusedly at Rose, who shrugged.
"How old is he?" asked Marissa, concerned that Jocelyn was being forced into an unwanted marriage. Her mother was of the opinion that she read too many novels.
"Oh, he's very old," said Sabrina. "Almost twenty-one."
"Has he proposed to Jocelyn?"
"Not yet, though Mama says he will."
Marissa could not think of a delicate way to phrase her concerns, so kept her mouth shut.
"Is he handsome?" asked Jane.
"No."
"No?" Jane was crushed.
"Yes, he is," said Jessica, laughing. "He's not as handsome as the people we are all used to seeing every day, but he is very well-looking, for a person that is not of our family."
"Well, how would you know?" asked Rose, jealous that someone had seen the future husband of Jocelyn before she had.
"He was at Sabrina's birthday party last year. Wasn't he, Sabrina?"
"Oh! Which one was he?"
"The tall one with the brown hair, who looked at Jocelyn a lot. He gave me a picture book about ponies." Sabrina beamed, obviously happy with her future brother-in-law.
"Was he the one who wrestled with Cameron, and called him a sport when he lost?" asked Marissa for clarification. Sabrina confirmed this, and Marissa was satisfied; she was certain Frederick Stanton, the future Lord Raleigh, could make her cousin happy. Now she had only to congratulate Jocelyn on the happy news.
"Cameron's face was so red!" said Natasha happily, remembering her brother's humiliation. In her opinion, Cameron was far too easily-humiliated. The conversation went on into general discussion about brothers, half of the girls commending and the other half condemning their respective brothers.
Josh kicked his legs impatiently on the sofa and wished he had a frog. He could think of nothing more boring than listening to his aunts drone on about his uncles and cousins. He took serious exception when Aunt Anne called Uncle Max a "philanthropist." He didn't know what it meant, but it sounded bad. A frog would look wonderful in her hat. A frog in each of her daughters' hats, as well, would look wonderful. They all wore the same style. His mouth spread into a wicked grin as he pictured it in his mind. Oh, what he wouldn't give for a frog!
Elizabeth Darcy glanced at her youngest son while she laughed at a story Nellie Darcy had told her about her son, Thomas, and his fiancée, Hannah Darcy (Nellie's niece). She was startled by the glint in Josh's eyes, but had no time to address it, for at that moment, Mrs. James Darcy was announced into the drawing room. Elizabeth jumped up to greet the sister that had been travelling so long.
"Kitty, it has really been too long. But where are James and the children?"
Josh looked at his aunt curiously. He did not recall her, but he had heard his mother mention "Kitty" often lately. A vague memory came to him, and he frowned.
"Are you the aunt that pinched my cheek in London?" he asked in a surly voice. Kitty smiled.
"You must be Frederick. My, how you've grown! You weren't tall enough to shake my hand when I saw you last."
"Well, of course I've grown," he snorted. "Children do that sometimes. And I'm not Frederick, I'm Josh."
Kitty looked confused at Elizabeth, who laughed nervously and said,
"He likes to be called Josh now; or Joshua. I don't know why, but he has taken a dislike to the name Frederick. Josh, why don't you go talk to your uncles?"
"There were two more carriages coming after us," said Kitty. "Perhaps Josh would like to greet the guests."
Josh stuck out his lower lip and looked up at Kitty again.
"Do you have any children, Aunt?"
"Yes, three. Two boys, and a girl." Kitty smiled again.
"You have a daughter?" Elizabeth asked. "I thought you had three sons."
"No," Kitty laughed at Elizabeth's stricken face. "Don't worry; we have that problem often; Honor is a girl, not a boy."
Elizabeth had recovered enough to laugh at herself, as well as her brother-in-law, as she led Kitty to where the other ladies were sitting.
"I would never have thought your husband would name his child `Honor,'" she commented with a wink at Michelle, who covered her mouth with her hand.
"Well, he has," said Kitty, seemingly unruffled. She smoothed her skirt and took the cup offered her, smiling at each of the women. Jane Bingley came to sit beside her, and kissed her cheek in a show of sisterly affection. Mrs. Andrew and Mrs. Henry looked at each other knowingly, and began to talk again of the same things that had been occupying them before. Lady Matlock introduced her step-daughter to Kitty, who was astonished to find Lady Jocelyn so grown-up.
Josh rolled his eyes, bored. Jocelyn saw him and grinned.
"Mrs. Darcy," she said.
"Yes?" said Elizabeth, Kitty, Nellie and Anna. They all laughed and Jocelyn blushed.
"Mrs. James Darcy," she clarified. "You said you had two sons. How old are they, please?"
"Ian is fourteen, and Jeremy is ten," said Kitty.
"Much too young for you, Jocelyn," said Anna. Several of the ladies tittered. Jocelyn looked at Josh.
"Why don't you go make friends with Jeremy, Josh? I'm sure he does not know anybody here, and would be much happier for some company."
"Yes, please do," said Kitty, turning again to look at her nephew. "Jeremy is not shy, but he has a tendency to just stand back and watch, without making himself part of the action."
Josh lifted his chin proudly.
"I will do my best to help my little cousin." He bowed stiffly and left the room, then broke into a run toward the front door. He ran directly into a body. Looking up, he saw a face he had never seen before. He instinctively took a step back.
"Watch where you're going, boy," the face said roughly. He was interrupted by a female voice.
"La, Marcus! Leave him alone; he may be one of your cousins."
Confused, Josh blinked and assessed the situation. There were five pairs of eyes staring at him. An older lady, possibly the same age as his Aunt Michelle Callahan, a young man--the one who had shouted at him--a boy around his own age, and two girls, one younger, one older than him. They were all decidedly disreputable. Josh narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders.
"My father owns this house. How can I help you?"
"There, what did I tell you? This is one of your cousins, children. Which one are you, dear? Are you Christopher?"
"No!" Josh's expression changed to incredulity, and he eyed her as if she were mad. "I am Frederick Joshua Francis Darcy, son of Fitzwilliam, son of...."
"Yes, yes, dear. But your mother's name is Elizabeth, is it not?"
"Yes," he said hesitantly.
"He is too young to be Christopher, Mama," said the older girl. "Did you not tell us that our cousins were both born directly after Marcus?"
"I am eleven!" Josh bellowed, indignant. "And you are not my aunt!"
The woman frowned.
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not."
"Enough!" said the young man. He bent down to look Josh in the eyes, and smiled warmly. "I am your cousin Marcus. Can you show my mother to my aunt, please?"
"Which one?" Josh asked wearily.
"Elizabeth. Your mother. Mrs. Darcy."
"There she is!" said the woman, waving wildly as the door to the drawing room opened and Elizabeth stepped out. "Lizzy!"
Elizabeth stared, shocked, at the newcomer.
"Lydia!?" she gasped.
Elizabeth stood stock still, her eyes filling with tears as she stared at her baby sister. Josh eyed the newcomers with renewed suspicion, the protective instinct of a son toward his mother taking over. His eyes soon wearied of his Aunt Lydia's clothing, and his scowl turned toward his cousins. As Elizabeth enfolded Lydia in her arms, Josh and the four strangers took each other's measures.
Marcus, the eldest, was the very image of his father, but of course there was no way Josh could know that. He contented himself by noticing that Marcus was a very fine-looking young man, if a bit shabby, and would likely cause Beth Bingley, Stacy Preston, and their likes to go into flutters.
The other children's names he did not know, but that did not stop him from noting the way the older girl stared insipidly ahead, allowing her nose to run slightly; the younger boy let go of Lydia's hand only when she pulled away to embrace Elizabeth--his eyes glanced fearfully at Marcus; the younger girl peeped at Josh from haunted eyes. He dismissed her as weak and sickly, like the others, but did not notice that, unlike her brother, she would not let go of Lydia.
He was interrupted from his disparaging reverie when his mother told him to fetch his father.
"Tell him your Aunt Lydia is here. Mrs. Wickham."
"Mrs. Hall," Lydia corrected blithely, taking off her gloves. Josh nodded and scampered away, glad to be able to escape from his frighteningly thin cousins. Elizabeth looked at Lydia, astonished, at the same time calling for a servant--any servant--to take the children and clean them up, feed them, and put them to bed. After the ladies' maid Becky had been dispatched with Lydia's brood, Elizabeth commented quietly,
"I did not know you had remarried."
"Oh, well, what else was I to do after George was...." she glanced at Elizabeth, who had stiffened. "Well, never mind that. But of course I had to remarry."
"Who is Mr. Hall?"
"He was one of Mary's husband's friends. He worked with Mr. Canfield. After we married, we moved to Scotland."
Elizabeth mused that they must have gone to Scotland, then married.
"Where is he now?"
She ushered Lydia into the parlor, watched quietly as several children scampered out guiltily, then turned to see Lydia's big, brown eyes dissolved into tears.
"Oh, Lizzy!" she cried, throwing her arms around her sister's neck. "I don't know what to do!" She pulled a large handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. Elizabeth waited patiently for an explanation. Lydia looked at her out of the corner of her eyes, then said sulkily, "He's dead."
"Oh, Lyddie, I'm so sorry." Elizabeth replaced the worn-out handkerchief with one of her own. "How did it happen?"
Lydia did not answer, but stared moodily into space.
"We almost had enough money to send Daniel to school next year." She hiccupped. "Then he had to go and get himself...." she trailed off, then looked at Elizabeth again. "Well, it will all be well now, now that we are together again. The children have been simply begging to meet their grand Aunt Darcy! And now they will get to know you wonderfully! And your children! How are they?"
The ladies' maid Becky had expected to have her hands full, trying to clean, dress and feed four children at once. She was pleasantly surprised to find them to be rather quiet, subdued, and pliable. The youngest girl, Bridget, had very nearly rebelled once, when Becky began peeling her layers of clothes off her, but Marcus--my, he was a handsome one!--had very handily stepped in and quieted his sister.
"She's a good girl, usually," he had said, with a winning smile for Becky. "But she doesn't do well with new things. Do what the pretty lady tells you, Bridget. She won't kill you."
"I can give myself a bath," Bridget muttered. "I don't need you and Daniel watching me. Or her." She glared at Becky.
"We're at Pemberley now, Bridget," Marcus had said tensely. "If you want to live here, you will behave as though you should. At Pemberley, there are people to help you with everything, including baths."
"I did not know you were staying long, sir," said Becky, blushing prettily when he turned to smile at her again. "Are you planning to stay after the Christmas party?"
"What Christmas party?" asked Daniel. "Are we going to get presents?"
Becky did not know what to say, and looked up at Marcus, who had the same smile on his face.
"Well, you are relations to Mrs. Darcy, aren't you?"
"Our mother is her sister," said Sophie proudly.
"Then you must be here for the party!" said Becky. She looked at Marcus again and summoned a saucy smile. "I had thought that all the guests were to be old people and children."
He reached out a hand to tug at one of the curls that were bouncing out from under her cap. She giggled self-consciously.
"You can see I'm not old," he answered. "And neither am I a child."
In the study of Fitzwilliam Darcy, several men were gathered together, both for amusement and escape from the incessant chatter of the reunited females in the drawing room. That gentleman leaned back in his chair, after offering each of his guests a cigar. His brother, James Darcy, grinned and said,
"I never thought you'd look older than the last time I saw you, Fitz."
Darcy opened his eyes to glare at him.
"Have you found a profession yet, Jesse?" he asked mildly. James pouted.
"Not yet. It's not my fault!" he protested when Christopher Blakeney and David Fitzwilliam laughed. "Kitty wants to see all the sights, everywhere we go. You should have seen her in Paris. You should have seen both of us! I'm sure the children were laughing at us the whole way. It is very uncomfortable to know your children are more comfortable speaking French than English."
"Move them to England, then," said Christopher. James gave him a withering look.
"It's your fault I can't."
"Have you told them that?"
"Of course I did. They are all very wary of their Aunt Georgiana's mad husband."
"As are we all," said Darcy. "But do you mean your children don't know the real reason you don't stay here?"
"Yes, they do," said James. "I told them their Uncle Fitz was a terrible ogre who wouldn't let his own brother stay in the ancestral home."
"What a family they must think they've been born into!" Christopher hooted. "An ogre and a madman for uncles, and two ignorant Britons for parents."
"They have been traumatized, I'm afraid," Sir John Preston agreed. "As I was coming here, I came across your eldest and my son, Robin, arguing about the meaning of a certain French word..."
"Merde?" asked Christopher pleasantly. He put the cigar in his mouth for the first time and immediately doubled over coughing. James patted his back good-naturedly.
"How did you know?" asked Sir John.
"Your first cigar?" asked James. "Don't you have three children?"
"Because I know Jay-Jay here," said Christopher, laughing through watery eyes. "What else would his children argue about?" He took the cigar back from James and smiled. "And yes, three children. Apparently I was too busy handing them out to smoke one myself."
"It's not that difficult," said James, preparing to share his smoking expertise, when the door opened and Josh came in. He walked with dignity toward his father, brushing away the cigar his Uncle Christopher offered him.
"Mother has sent me to tell you," he began, and was interrupted by James and Christopher still laughing at the other end of the room. He scowled, and began again. "Mother wanted me to tell you that my Aunt Wickham has arrived."
"What?" all the men in the room exclaimed at once.
Marcus Wickham congratulated himself on extracting from Becky every morsel of information possible about the other inhabitants of the house. Apparently, they were having a family gathering for the holiday, and everybody had been invited--except the Wickhams. Well, in all fairness, he couldn't really fault them for that; he had told his mother often enough that she should write to their rich aunts, but she never had. That had been Mr. Hall's fault, not allowing her any contact with her family. Marcus was glad he was dead now. The man had been an imbecile, anyway. The world was better off without him.
No, it was not the Darcys's fault that they had not been invited. It was unfair of him to resent them for it. But then, Marcus had never really cared about fairness. What he cared about was rising to better levels than his father had. He hated his father for dying at the end of a noose. Where George Wickham had failed, Marcus Wickham would succeed. No penniless waifs for him. And then, his mother could have what she should have. Lydia deserved better than Tobias Hall. She deserved better than George Wickham. And Marcus knew that his mother was the one who really deserved what her sisters had gotten. His father had not given it to her, but he would. And he knew exactly how he would do it.
If only he could get her to stay this time.
Lady Jocelyn Fitzwilliam tried to make her way through the crowded halls. People had been arriving all afternoon, and she had not had a chance to write in her journal all day. More than that, she desperately wanted to get a letter off to Freddy Stanton. Perhaps, if she mailed it today, he would get it on Christmas. Oh, she missed him.
Perhaps she was in love with him. No, that was not possible. He was kind and rich and handsome, to be sure, but Jocelyn did not think she should simply marry the first person to come along. She had mentioned this to her stepmother, Margaret, once, and she had agreed, then kindly pointed out that there had been others before Freddy. Jocelyn had tried arguing that Freddy had not proposed yet, and there was nothing to say he would. But Lady Matlock had said that that was not the point: the point was that Jocelyn was seventeen now, which meant she really ought to start thinking about marriage.
Jocelyn wondered if her stepmother simply wanted to be rid of her. The thought made her immeasurably sad. She had assumed, until this year, that though Margaret was not her mother, she loved her as her own.
She kept her head down as she pushed her way to the room she was sharing with her cousins, Andrea Fitzwilliam and Stacy Preston. After her letter to Freddy, she felt unaccountably better. Perhaps Margaret was right. It would probably be very nice to be married--after all, all of her aunts had married, and they seemed happy enough. It was not Margaret's fault that she could not read her stepdaughter's mind. Maybe they just needed to talk.
She lifted her head as she walked back to the drawing room, and her expression seemed a thousand times lighter than when she left it. Her secretive smile widened into a full-fledged grin. The traffic in the halls had trickled to nothing more than a group of young children, her half-sister Sabrina included, and Jocelyn eavesdropped on their conversation for a few moments before she heard heavy footsteps on the staircase above them.
As she looked up to see who was coming, she completely missed the question Sabrina posed to her. For at the moment she laid eyes on Marcus Wickham, Lady Jocelyn completely melted.
21 Dec., 3:30 p.m.
As soon as Marcus discovered that the girl who was staring at him was the same Lady Jocelyn Fitzwilliam the pretty maid had told him of, he was very grateful to Cousin Alex for lending him the proper attire. It would not do to make your first impression on an impressionable young lady, in rags. Particularly a pretty young lady with twenty-thousand pounds.
"And who are you?" said the little brat beside Lady Jocelyn. She looked up at him curiously, but he could see she was not so inclined to think well of him as the other girl.
"I am also a cousin," he said. "My name is Marcus."
"I thought you were a servant."
"Sabrina!" Jocelyn exclaimed, then blushed and glanced nervously at Marcus. "My sister is not very tactful."
"That is perfectly all right," he said smoothly. "My sister is often very rude, too."
"Oh, she did not mean to be rude!" said Jocelyn, habitually defending her sister. "She merely says what she thinks, without considering. You don't think he's a servant, really, do you, Brie?"
"No, I don't now, because he said he's a cousin, but I didn't recognize him. And I still don't! I didn't know I had a cousin named Marcus." She apparently did not like the name.
"Well, I am not related to you," he said, barely able to keep relief out of his voice. The last thing he needed was another bratty relation. "I am Mrs. Darcy's nephew."
"Which Mrs. Darcy?" asked Jocelyn, smiling. "There are four here."
"Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy."
"Who?" asked Luke Preston from nearby.
"Aunt Elizabeth," said Sabrina. "I didn't know her name was Fitzwilliam, too."
"I was wondering, Lady Jocelyn," said Marcus, "if you could show me some of the things your family does for Christmas. I've never been able to celebrate it with such luxuries before."
"What are luxuries?" asked Sabrina.
"I would be happy to, but please, nobody calls me Lady Jocelyn if they are my friends. Though we are not related by blood, I don't think you should have to call me Lady." She smiled prettily. Marcus grinned and, offering her his arm, allowed her to lead him down the hall and into one of the many rooms along the way. Sabrina pursed her lips and looked at Luke.
"Do you know what my brother would say right now, Luke?" The little boy looked clueless. "He would say, `something is rotten in Denmark.'"
"Mama, I want to go skating now!" Josh whined, trying to make himself heard while his mother flitted from one of Lydia's children to the other, handing out clean clothes and cups of hot chocolate and anything else they might want.
"Joshua, please go play with your brothers. Your cousins need to change their clothes."
"But...."
"Go." Elizabeth turned around to look him in the eye. "You may go skating, if you can find five people to go with you. If the ice breaks, I want enough people there to save whoever falls in. Now go. Sophie and Bridget don't want little boys watching them dress."
"But Daniel...."
"I'll go with you, Cousin," said Daniel. "But I don't have any skates."
Josh's eyes lit up.
"You may borrow some of mine!" He and Daniel prepared to scamper off.
"And Josh, tell your father I want to talk to him."
"But he's a boy, too! He can't come in here if I can't!"
Elizabeth laughed.
"I will be done before he gets up here. And if not, we can talk through the door."
"Oh. Very well, then." Josh shrugged and led Daniel downstairs, beginning their search for other boys to skate with them. They found Morgan.
"Have you gone skating yet?" she asked snidely. Josh narrowed his eyes, scowled, and prepared to brush past her. "Who's this?" she asked, walking after him.
"This is my cousin, Daniel Hall," he said. "He is going skating with me, and we don't want you."
"Why not?" asked Daniel. "We have to find four more people, and she would make it three."
"That is true. You're a smart boy, Daniel. I'll get my skates." Morgan ran off before Josh could protest. He scowled at Daniel.
"For future reference," he said, mimicking his father's tone, "I don't play with girls."
"Oh." Daniel was embarrassed to have made a mistake already, and did not speak again for a few minutes.
Andrew Fitzwilliam chalked his cue, his eyes intent on the balls on the table.
"Tell me, Matthew, what do you intend to do with that black boy of yours?" He was disappointed to find his attempt at distraction did not work. Matthew Blakeney laughed and made his shot, then answered.
"Do with him? Why should I do anything with him?"
"And I don't think you can rightfully call him a boy, Andrew," said Robin Preston, yawning.
"Well, where did he come from? I don't believe for a minute that story that he came here all by himself from America."
"Why not?" Matthew asked curiously and lined up another shot.
"Well, where did he get the money?" asked Ian Darcy, not at all intimidated by meeting so many cousins in one day. "It costs a lot of money to travel."
"He stowed away."
"What??" said Cameron Preston. "That's illegal! Has Sir Christopher done anything about it?"
"No." Matthew frowned. "What should he do?"
Cameron scoffed.
"Turn him over to the authorities."
"Why? To send him back to America? Or to hang him? Or perhaps they'll just let him rot in prison." Matthew shook his head. "My father wouldn't do that."
"Why not? It's the law," said Henry Bingley. "I'm sure he could get work in America, once he was there."
"That explains why he came here, doesn't it?" Matthew said sarcastically, fighting the urge to hit his cousins. Alex Darcy put a hand on his shoulder.
"Settle down, Matt. They're just confused, and they certainly don't know Gabriel as well as you do."
Henry smiled toothily, hoping Matthew wouldn't take what he had just said to heart, while Cameron waited impatiently for an explanation of why Sir Christopher hadn't done the obviously right thing. Matthew glared for a few more moments before turning to Alex and saying,
"You don't have to toady up to me just because you want to be my uncle."
Alex blushed and the other boys laughed. Ian begged to know what he meant, and was informed by a chorus of youthfully masculine voices that Alex was besotted with Emily Blakeney, Sir Christopher's baby sister. Alex squirmed uneasily under the following jokes, and finally decided to shift the attention back to Matthew.
"You don't have to make fun of me just because you don't want them to know Gabriel was a slave." It was out before he could stop it. Alex watched, horrified with himself, as the other boys slowly reacted to this news. Matthew flushed red with anger, and for a moment Alex thought he might hit him.
"Is it true?" asked Cameron shakily. He prepared to dive behind the billiard table if Matthew attacked him. Matthew turned his glare sharply from Alex to Cameron.
"Yes, it's true. Still want to send him back?" He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Kitty Darcy, Michelle Callahan and Georgiana Blakeney shifted uneasily in their seats as Marcus and Jocelyn continued flirting. Of the three women, Michelle was the only one who did not remember George Wickham. She could tell from the discomfiture of the other two ladies, though, that they did not trust this boy. Her own mind was made up, however, when she noticed that Marcus had not said one word to disagree with Jocelyn. That was highly suspicious, in her opinion. She had never met any other couple who agreed with each other more than herself and Max, yet even they occasionally disagreed.
They were all relieved when Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lady Matlock, Joshua Darcy and Daniel Hall entered the room. Mr. Darcy left as soon as he saw his wife was not in the room, but Margaret walked calmly to her step-daughter and struck up a conversation with the two youths, cleverly keeping the discussion away from anything flirtatious. Michelle hid a smile when she heard Margaret start talking, quite interestingly, about the difference between veal and liver.
"Aunt Michelle, where are Robert and Sylvester?" Josh asked suddenly.
"I don't know, Joshua. Why do you ask?"
Josh stuck out his lower lip and glanced hopefully at Marcus, who was staring at Margaret in something akin to shock.
"Me and Daniel want to go skating, but my mother won't let us go unless we have four other people to go with us. Well, three, because Daniel already told Morgan she could come."
"I'll come!" said Marcus, his voice coming close to a squeak as he hurried away from Jocelyn's step-mama.
"Yes, so will I," said Jocelyn, freezing Margaret with a glare.
"I will come, too," said Michelle, standing up calmly as Georgiana gasped and Kitty giggled. "What? I can skate! I do it often with Max and the boys. And I plan to teach Kimberly, too, when she is old enough."
"Who is Kimberly?" asked Josh, wondering if his aunt had acquired an interesting new dog. Michelle smiled happily and looked at the other women before explaining that Kimberly was Robert, Sylvester and Julian's new sister. Disappointed, Josh left the room quickly, unable to stop Michelle, Marcus and Jocelyn from following.
As they headed down the hall, they came across Matthew Blakeney, who seemed to be heading toward the stables.
"Matthew!" Josh cried, and ran ahead to walk with him. "Will you come skating with us, please?" He had decided he was desperate enough to be polite. "Marcus and Daniel are coming, but so are Morgan and Aunt Michelle! Please come!"
"Who is Marcus?" asked Matthew, turning around to see who Josh was talking about.
"He is my cousin. Marcus Wickham. Please come!"
"Well, Josh, I was going to talk to..."
"Please! I'll be your slave for a week!"
Matthew paled slightly, but smiled and said,
"Well, I'd like to go skating with you, Josh, but I want to talk to Gabriel, too."
"He can come, too!" said Josh, pleading.
"Who is Gabriel?" asked Marcus, who had caught up with them. Jocelyn, on his arm, looked equally curious.
"He is Matt's footman," said Josh. Marcus and Jocelyn looked at each other, puzzled, then shrugged.
"Well, I'm sure he's very nice, if Matthew likes him," said Jocelyn, smiling. Marcus immediately began looking Matthew over to be sure he was not competition.
"What's going on?" asked another voice coming in the opposite direction. Josh groaned and covered his eyes as Marissa Preston came into view.
"We're going skating," said Morgan, also entering the scene. "Hello, Matt. I thought you were playing billiards."
"I was, but..." Matthew tried to edge away, toward the stables.
"Did you win? Is the game over?"
"Matthew, dear, do you know where Alex is?" Emily Blakeney hurried up.
"In the billiard room," he said, and hurried away. Emily went to find Alex, not noticing Matthew's abruptness. Meanwhile, Josh pulled Daniel to his room to retrieve their skates before their party got even larger.
"Why does it bother you so much?" Gabriel asked as Matthew paced the tiny room, his skates slung over his shoulder.
"Why doesn't it bother you?" Matthew retorted. "If it happened to me, I certainly wouldn't want it mentioned!"
"I have a question."
"What?"
"You say I've been invited to skate with you and your cousins, but I don't have any skates."
Matthew sighed and pulled a pair from one of the bags littering the floor.
"I think those are Alex's, but he won't mind. It's the least he owes you, anyway."
Gabriel smiled and sat down on the ground to put them on.
"No, you can't put them on now. Those things are devilish to walk in. Also, they might not fit exactly right, and you'd be prolonging your agony."
Gabriel shrugged and stood again.
"Why does your cousin Alex owe me?"
"Never mind. If you're not offended, there's no point in me offending you."
"That's true. And it makes no sense for you to be offended for me."
"I suppose not. But I'll tell you something, Gabriel: I don't like it when bad things happen to my friends."
"But we're not friends, are we, Matthew?" Gabriel grinned.
"We are now."
"Really?" Gabriel was amused. "What about the time you poured a bucket of water over my head?"
"That was three months ago!"
"Why do you want to be friends with me? You certainly didn't at first."
Matthew smiled and had to admit that was true; their relationship at the outset had consisted of jealousy on Matthew's side and wariness on Gabriel's.
"Because you're the only one, besides my father, who can help me with the Daydream," he said, swiping his hand across the top of Gabriel's head. Gabriel ducked and ran out of the room with Matthew following closely behind. They both skidded to a halt to look, embarrassed, at their shoes, when they nearly bumped into Michelle Callahan, who was waiting with the rest of the skating party.
Michelle cleared her throat and made a show of checking her dress for damages. When finished, she smiled cheerily and they began the expedition to the pond.
5:30 p.m.
Josh ducked yet another snowball and began looking for rocks to put in his next one.
"Morgan, I'm freezing!" he shouted. He could hear Morgan giggle, and his fury increased. His shirt was clinging to his back where the snow she had slipped down his coat had melted. He stopped working suddenly when he saw a shadow come up behind him. He turned guiltily and looked up at his Aunt Michelle.
"You're not really going to throw snowballs with rocks in them, are you, Josh?"
"Of course not!" he said, and dropped the rocks behind his back.
"Aunt Michelle!" Morgan cried. "Are Jocelyn and Marcus engaged?"
"I don't think so, Morgan."
"Because they're awfully close, like Mama and Papa get sometimes. Their noses are almost touching!"
Michelle looked up in time to see Marcus and Jocelyn look up from their quiet conversation. Jocelyn blushed and looked down, but Marcus took her hand in his and waved his free hand at Michelle before skating off in the other direction with Jocelyn.
Jocelyn giggled.
"Really, Marcus, you are incorrigible. Aunt Michelle is supposed to be our chaperone!"
"Do you think we need a chaperone, Jocelyn? We were only talking about my family. Chaperones are for people who are courting." He looked back at her and grinned impishly.
"I don't know if we need one now," she said. "But we might need one shortly."
"You can't know how I was hoping you'd say that."
There was a loud cry behind them, and they turned around just in time to see Josh on top of Morgan, pushing her face down into the snow. Marcus did not think it necessary to go to her rescue, but Jocelyn insisted on rushing toward them. By the time she was close enough to help, however, Matthew had already separated them.
"Let me go!" Josh said, struggling against his grasp.
"Are you all right, Morgan?" Matthew asked. Morgan sputtered and sobbed helplessly. Finally, embarrassed with herself for carrying on so, she buried her face in Michelle's shoulder.
"She attacked me first," said Josh sulkily.
"Josh, you should know better," said Michelle sadly. Josh stopped struggling and looked down, his lower lip sticking out in a perfect example of a pout.
"I'm going to kill him!" Morgan wailed, then sneezed. Josh paled, not doubting her threat.
"Matt, help me! She's your sister, you know she means it!" He began struggling again.
"What's going on here?" asked a new voice. Fitzwilliam Darcy looked from one person to the other. For a moment he allowed himself to feel extreme gratitude toward his wife for warning him about Marcus's resemblance to his father, but then he turned his attention back to his son, who was being held captive by his nephew, and his niece, who was sobbing into his cousin's wife's shoulder. "Josh? What did you do now?"
"Me?" Josh spluttered. "She was fighting, too! She threw a snowball down my back!"
"Uncle Fitzwilliam!" Morgan wailed, switching from Michelle to Darcy in a flash. "He hit me, and pushed me into the snow, and wouldn't let me get up!"
"She's older than me! She should have left me alone! What are you laughing at? Let me go, I say!"
Matthew dropped him onto his knees immediately and sat down to finish laughing. Morgan and Josh glared at him, then took up their argument once again. Darcy and Michelle each took one of the children, and began leading the way back to the house. Michelle called to Marcus and Jocelyn to follow them, and Matthew and Gabriel soon followed, not wishing overmuch to stay outside in the cold after dark.
"Did you have fun?" Darcy asked Josh, whose hand sat limply in his own. Josh nodded grudgingly. As they entered the house, they heard a noise of female chatter coming from the drawing room. Darcy took Josh and Morgan upstairs, where they could rest and calm down, while Michelle accompanied Marcus and Jocelyn into the drawing room, and Matthew and Gabriel went to look for anybody their age.
After dealing with the children, Darcy went to look for his wife. He found her in her bedchamber, a forlorn look in her eyes.
"Elizabeth?" he said tentatively. She looked at him sadly, then looked back at her hands. "What is wrong, darling? Are your guests becoming too much for you?"
She shook her head.
"I'm having a wonderful time, Fitzwilliam. It is really incredible. We will have to reward Mrs. Reynolds somehow; she is doing a wonderful job on this party."
"Then what is distressing you?"
She took a ragged breath and leaned her head on his shoulder as tears started falling.
"Lydia left this afternoon."