Beginning, Previous Section, Section IV
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Georgiana and Kitty were aghast. Georgiana momentarily forgot her troubles as she and Kitty tried to get out of Elizabeth why she would want to do such a thing. Elizabeth was a bit surprised by her sisters' reaction, but she explained that she had been talking to Bridget earlier. The girl was very bright, pretty and well-behaved, but the thing that had struck Elizabeth about her had been the way she spoke of Pemberley. Her eyes had lit up as she spoke of all the new things she had experienced in the last couple days. She was truly grateful for everything, and yet there was a terrible wistfulness in her eyes, as if she knew she could never have these things. It was a look Elizabeth hated, one of despair, and she wanted to get rid of it.
"Well, that is all well and good, Lizzy," said Kitty doubtfully. "But are you sure you want to keep all of them?"
"It would not be fair to keep only Bridget, or only Daniel," said Elizabeth. "To be sure, Marcus is a bit old, but that doesn't mean he is beyond Fitzwilliam's or my help. There is a world of good...."
"Have you talked to Fitzwilliam about it yet?" asked Georgiana. Elizabeth's smile faltered.
"Well, no. But I'm sure..."
"I hope you have not mentioned it to the children yet," said Kitty. "They will be terribly disappointed if it comes to nothing."
"Well, it won't come to nothing," said Elizabeth, raising her chin stubbornly.
Marcus Wickham walked down the hallway, trying to shake the daze he had been feeling all day. Spending the night with Becky had been a definite mistake. It had confused him terribly. He occasionally passed clusters of small children talking excitedly about their various games. One group was hurrying along so fast that they did not see him, and he found himself pushed against the wall as seven or eight boys and girls ran past. After they had gone, he noticed a bit of red hair disappear around the corner, and knew it to be Jocelyn. He knew they needed to talk, so he headed in that direction.
He found her in the library, scouring the shelves for something to read. Marcus watched her for a long time, wondering why he couldn't make himself feel anything for her besides regret. It had become increasingly difficult to keep his eye on the monetary prize. The last few hours had been spent trying to remind himself of his purpose. Lydia was the one he should be thinking of. Jocelyn was to have been the means of settling her forever. It shouldn't have been so difficult. The girl was fresh, bright and pretty, as well as rich. So why, instead of her intelligent, green- eyed gaze, did his mind insist on dwelling on a simple pair of grey eyes with a dull blonde frame? Had one night made him weak? Or had he been weak all along, and only unaware of it? Perhaps it was one of the things he had inherited from his father Whatever it was, it was dreadful, and he hated it.
"If you have nothing to do besides stare at me all day, Mr. Wickham, perhaps you could do me a favor, and hand that book to me."
Marcus jumped, startled at her voice, and without thinking, obeyed, reaching above her head to get at the book she wanted. His arm brushed the back of her head as he stretched, and he noticed she drew herself up stiffly at the contact.
"I have a question to ask you, Mr. Wickham. I hope you will answer truthfully...."
"So formal, Jocelyn? I had thought we were closer friends than that."
"I did a lot of thinking last night and this morning."
"So have I," he said, unconsciously stepping away from her. She looked at him closely before looking away and saying in a strained, formal manner,
"I think we were wrong to behave as we did, especially on such a short acquaintance."
"You don't think I had anything to do with...."
"No," she said quickly. "No, not that. I only.... well, the fact that I did think that for even a little while shows that I don't know you that well, doesn't it?"
"Yes."
"Well, I don't suspect you of that. There is something else, though." She looked at him now and stepped closer. "Did you mean to seduce me for my money?"
He gave an abrupt, nervous laugh.
"So direct! My God!"
"Did you?"
"Yes," he said, unable to dance around her. Her eyes flashed almost unnoticeably, and before he knew it, her hand had come up and stung his cheek.
"Never play with my feelings, Mr. Wickham. I don't take it very well."
"The notion passed quickly," he said, at the same time wondering what had come over him. "I'm sorry if I hurt you...."
"Don't flatter yourself," she said, sniffling a little. "I hurt myself. You were merely there."
"Th-thank you," he said, blinking. Was that relief he felt? How odd. She turned to look at him suspiciously.
"What does that mean?"
He smiled, slowly gaining control of himself again.
"I never meant to hurt you. I mean that. I never considered it. I was only thinking of ... of myself. And my family, I suppose."
"Well, that is reassuring," she said sarcastically, beginning to walk towards the door.
"Please stay. I need to talk to somebody, and nobody else will even look at me."
"It seems to me I've heard that before."
"This time, it's not a trick." He saw she was not moving, so he began talking. "My only care for your money was for my mother's sake."
"How sweet."
"Truly. All I want is to provide for her. Nobody has, you know, and she's gone through so much in her life...."
Jocelyn rubbed her eyes with one hand, wondering what she had ever seen in him. Marcus saw he was not getting through to her, and frustrated with himself, he sat down in a chair and stared at the floor.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter, anyway. I don't want to marry you anymore. I should want to. I should at least be as steady as that. But I can't even keep it up for three days."
Jocelyn weighed everything in her mind for a moment and came to the conclusion that this was genuine. She was not a completely unforgiving girl, and she did feel a little compassion for him, but only a little.
"Well," she said in a relenting tone, "I suppose there is something to be said for your character, after all. If, as you say, you saw the error of your ways...."
"What error? I would have been a good husband, and all I would have needed of your money was a little for my mother...."
"Then why did you change your mind?" Marcus sighed and traced the pattern on his boot with one finger. "Come on, you can tell me," she said coaxingly, as if she had, with the promise of being told a secret, completely forgotten her indignation with him.
"Well," he said, as once again the grey eyes appeared before him, "I just can't think of you in that way."
"What way?"
"As a wife. You're so ... innocent."
Jocelyn didn't know whether to be amused or insulted.
"Then you're not....you don't think I'm attractive enough?"
"No, no. You're very pretty."
"Thank you, but I refuse to blush," she said as her cheeks reddened. Marcus didn't notice; he was now smiling as if some memory pleased him. How was he supposed to explain to her that he preferred the maid, that Becky's company last night had been better than anything he had ever experienced before, and he had difficulty keeping his mind on other things?
"I don't think I should aim so high anymore," he said finally. Jocelyn stared for a few moments then burst into laughter. "In fact," he went on, pouting somewhat; he was not used to being laughed at, "I would marry you with all my heart this minute, if a certain something weren't in the way."
"You're confusing me, Marcus. We have already established that neither of us wants to marry the other."
"But I do," he said in what was very nearly a whine. "I need you."
"Why?"
"I already told you."
"Oh, you mean my money."
"Yes," he said as if he saw no difference between the two. "But frankly, I can't do it."
"Why not?"
He snorted in disgust.
"Call it a weakness."
"A weakness for what?"
"I can't focus. I'm too easily distracted."
"By what?"
"Very well, if you must know, Becky Williams."
"Who?"
"You've seen her, certainly. Rather pretty girl, about so high, giggles a lot, wears an apron and a little cap...."
"A maid? Oh!" Jocelyn seemed in danger of a fit of giggles, herself, but then thought of something. "You mean you're giving me up, my fortune I mean, for true love?"
"Who said anything about love?" he said defensively. Jocelyn laughed and took his hands in hers.
"Well, I wish you joy."
"What for? All I said was that I failed to do what I needed to do, because of a stupid girl...."
"But don't you see, Marcus? Don't you see what this means? You silly boy, you have a heart! You're not just a cold mercenary, after all!"
Marcus was flabbergasted. He didn't know what to say, except,
"Why are you hugging me, then? I thought you hated me."
"Oh, no! I could never hate anybody, even if they were a cold mercenary, which you are not. Do you know what else this means?" she exclaimed with much pleasure. "I wasn't completely wrong, after all! There is some good in you!" She shook his hand vigorously, thanked him, and left the room.
Mr. Darcy was by no means thrilled with his wife's plan. Indeed, he tried to dissuade her from it using every argument he could think of, even going so far as to sulk in his study the entire afternoon when she proved adamant. Finally, they agreed that they should let their children decide. After all, the addition of four cousins to a household already consisting of five children is no easy task. The children were brought into the study that evening to discuss it with their parents.
The plan met with hearty acceptance from Josh and Rose. Their two younger cousins, Daniel and Bridget, had been among their favorite playmates thus far into the holiday, and they saw no reason to anticipate a change in their feelings.
The older three put more thought into it. Jane was dubious about Sophie; she did not know if the girl had any brains at all, or an interest in anything besides boys and dresses. Alex and Chris exchanged a look, each wondering if Marcus would be a healthy addition to Pemberley. All three put aside their quibbles, however, and agreed to try the plan, with the certainty that only good could come of an education, and even Marcus might be influenced by the more wholesome environment. Elizabeth noticed her children's effort and gave them each a few words of approval and support before they all retired for the night.
The next day, Christmas Eve, passed in relative quiet, or rather, as much quiet as can be had when the rooms are veritably overflowing with small children, harried adults, anxious adolescents and bewildered servants.
Chris spent most of the day helping Alex hide from Eugenie Walker. This resulted in much hilarity amongst the boys, particularly Henry Bingley and Andrew Fitzwilliam, who had the pleasure of throwing many hints to the girl, none of which made any sense to her. Josh seemed to be the only one, besides Eugenie, who did not appreciate the humour of the situation. He spent the day trying to pull attention to himself, with little success. Finally, after failing in an attempt to interest Robert Callahan in a game of catch in the parlor, he headed gloomily towards Matthew's room. He reasoned that, if he was bored, Matthew must be more so, and if he wasn't, Josh had heard Alex say something very interesting to Emily about her nephew..
He was surprised to find Marissa standing outside Matthew's door, as if guarding it. She had her arms folded in front of her and she kept glancing back at the door, as if impatient to be let back in. She looked dolefully at him and sighed deeply. He grinned.
"What's doing, Riss?"
"Matthew's talking to Alex, and he doesn't want me to hear him," she pouted.
"Why not?"
She shrugged. It wasn't any of his business, and she wasn't going to tell him when she wasn't entirely sure, herself.
"Well, I'll go see what they're talking about, and I'll tell you," he said generously, and began to push her ever-so-subtly aside. She stood firm, however. "Let me pass, Marissa," he grunted with the effort.
"No. He doesn't want to be disturbed," she said haughtily.
"But Alex is in there! Why can't I go in?"
"That's none of your business. Run along."
He glared and wagged a finger at her.
"Now see here, Marissa. I'm just as old as you are, and I want..."
At that moment the door opened and Alex came out, eyes bright with excitement. Chris quickly pulled him back inside and said playfully,
"Did you check for Miss Walkers yet?" He stuck his head out the door and looked both ways. "No, it's safe. You may leave."
"Is there anything we can get for you, Matt?" Alex said as he stepped around Josh and Marissa.
"Tell Marcus I'd like to talk to him."
Alex and Chris exchanged a glance. Marissa watched, annoyed. Why couldn't they tell people what they were thinking, instead of only looking at each other and knowing? Sarah and Holly Fitzwilliam did the same thing, but they had the excuse of being twins.
After his older brothers had left, Josh went into the room, leaving the door open for Marissa to follow, which, of course, she did. He giggled slightly at the sight of Matthew, leaning against the bedpost, propped up by so many pillows and covered in blankets.
"All hail King Matthew," he remarked. "I wish I could send for people and have them come. Besides servants, I mean."
Matthew grinned.
"How are you doing, Josh?"
"I'm bored," he pouted. "Nobody wants to do anything with me."
"What, nobody?"
"No." He sighed and threw himself onto the bed, landing on his stomach. Marissa flinched for Matthew's sake and began to scold, but Matthew shushed her. She sat down in the chair by the window to sulk.
"Where are all the rest of your cousins?"
"They're listening to Jessica tell a story."
"Why aren't you with them?"
Josh shrugged.
"I wasn't interested." He propped himself up with his elbows and, resting his chin in his hands, stared at Matthew a few moments before asking, in a playful tone, "Does it hurt?"
"Does what hurt?"
"Your face."
"A little. Not as much as it did."
"I heard Alex talking," Josh said, somewhat bewildering his audience with the sudden change of topic. "He said you were planning revenge on the men who did this." He waited for a response, and was disappointed when Matthew chose that moment to go into a coughing fit.
"What did you say, Josh?" he asked when he had calmed down enough to talk.
"I want to help," Josh said, skipping the preliminary speech he had half-planned. "I want to be there when it happens."
Matthew looked at him silently for some time before leaning back drowsily and, stifling a yawn, asking,
"Why?" Josh was lost for an answer. Matthew continued, still in the same sleepy voice. "Do you care about what happened, or do you want excitement?"
"Well...."
"I think you should find some other way to amuse yourself, Josh."
"But ... hang it all, Matt! You're letting Alex and Chris go along. They're just a little bit older than me.... And Marcus, too! Don't think I don't know why you're sending for him. You just don't want me to have any fun. You think, just because you're older and bigger..."
Matthew opened his eyes and smiled.
"Don't worry," he said. "You won't miss anything grand, I promise you."
"Then you'll let me come along? I swear, I don't only want to go for the fun. I really am angry at what happened..."
Marissa couldn't stand it anymore, and decided to speak up, though her voice would tremble.
"I think the whole idea of revenge is ... asinine." She pulled a word out of the air, hoping to impress Matthew enough, with her intelligence, to lend more weight to her poorly expressed argument.
"What?" Josh said, aghast. Marissa flushed, wondering if she had said the wrong word, but stubbornly explained,
"It's stupid. It won't do anything, except get you in trouble. In the end, Gabriel will still be dead."
To her surprise, Matthew actually seemed to be listening. Josh was the one who was incensed, and his anger, being more frequent, was easier to bear.
"Do you think they should get away with murder, Marissa? Should we just lie down for them?"
"No-o, not precisely. But..."
"What would you suggest?" Matthew asked. Marissa took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts into a coherent statement.
"I think it would be better to do good."
"What about justice?"
"That is not up to you."
Christmas morning, Jocelyn awoke to find her little sister bouncing on her bed, waving a folded piece of paper around excitedly.
"Wake up, Jocelyn! You have a letter! Get up! It's Christmas! Come on!"
After much groaning, Jocelyn finally sat up and accepted the note from Sabrina. She was astonished to find it was from Freddy. She had known he would write soon, but she hadn't thought it would be that soon. She had not been this excited to receive a letter from him in a long time. Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it, but she barely noticed.
The beginning of the note was in his sister's hand, since she was the one who forwarded their letters to each other.
To Lady Jocelyn Fitzwilliam,Dear Jocelyn, I hope you will announce your engagement to Freddy soon; I am weary of handling your letters, particularly when they are delivered in the presence of my governess and I have to pretend to read those bits of romantic nonsense.
Yours ever,
Mary Stanton
Jocelyn had to smile, though the quizzing tone struck her as odd, considering the sad condition of their father. Mary always found a way to push the engagement whenever she could, even if all she could scribble down at the moment was one sentence. Freddy's letter was a bit longer.
Jocelyn,I hope you will soon give me the right to call you "dearest." I can hardly think why, but the thought of committing such an impropriety makes me shudder, though I can't think of anything else in which we have followed the usual dictates of courtship. I hope you will not ask me to start now; I don't think I can remember how.
You are probably marvelling at my lack of gravity thus far. Fear not, I have not lost my head. That is, I do not think I have. It is hard to tell. I have not slept in three days, but I could not rest until I had responded to your letter, which, by the by, was charming if a bit disconnected. It was almost like listening to you talk. I was not expecting it, and it brightened my day considerably. It came just at the hour when I thought my father would never recover. That hour has passed now, thank God, but I did not know, at the time, that it would pass.
That's right, dear one. My father has recovered, and it looks as though he will live a few years longer. I believe the entire house is feeling a bit light-headed at the moment, because of the unexpected turn of events. We all expected him to die, and I've no doubt all the families in the neighbourhood were readying themselves to call on me, as soon as I came into my title. I am glad that event was put off. I am in no hurry to step into my father's shoes.
I wish you were here. It is much more satisfying to talk to you in person. I have missed you exceedingly the last few days, your laughter, your reason. I could have used your advice a thousand times, I'm sure. There is one other thing that I think would be better to speak of in person, than in a letter, so I shall not write it here. I think you know what I mean. I hope you do, or I shall be very much embarrassed.
Hopefully yours,
F.S.
It was not a great letter. There were parts where it was barely coherent. She could tell he had been immeasurably tired when he wrote it. The dear boy had not even taken time to rest after his ordeal with his father, before writing to her. For the first time, Jocelyn began to feel she had truly underrated him as a lover.
Josh Darcy, Sylvester Callahan, Andrea and Sarah Fitzwilliam, Jeremy Darcy, and Brett and Luke Preston surveyed the contraption with which they were now presented. It had been a Christmas gift to Josh's older sister, Jane, but she had said they could design it however they wanted, but to inform her of their plans, and she would think up something to perform on it.
Sylvester giggled abruptly and, tugging the socks off his feet, stuck them on his hands and poked them through the open space in front of the box.
"We don't need to get real puppets. We can do it like this right now. Let's do Hamlet," said Andrea.
"The socks are black," said her sister, Sarah.
"No, it came with puppets and scenery," said Jane. "But we don't know how to work them yet."
"Don't worry," Josh assured her, trying hard not to tangle the strings, "we'll figure it out for you." Jane eyed him with some trepidation and cautiously removed the toys from his hands.
"Go play with your cart, Josh. I don't want you to ruin this before I've had it a day."
"I won't ruin it!" he protested. "And I can't play with my cart without a horse, can I? A lot of fun that would be."
"You could take the wheels off, push it onto the pond, and pretend you're in a boat," said Jeremy. Josh seemed to ponder this idea and was just about to dash off to try it when several other boys paraded past the door.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" Andrea Fitzwilliam called after them. Her cousin Andrew stopped at her voice and halted for a split second to tell her,
"Chris said his father has a splendid new black in his stable, and we're going to see it."
"What's so special about a horse?" Josh wondered as everybody else in the room pushed past him in the rush to see the new animal. It suddenly occurred to him that he had just been wishing for a horse. Perhaps his father had merely forgotten to show it to him, or maybe it had come late. In any case, he was going to see it now.
On his way out, he passed Rose.
"Come and see my horse!" he said.
"Not fair!" she complained. "You get a horse and cart, while I get a .. doll," she said, thumping the contemptible thing on the back.
"Shh!" he said. "Aunt Georgiana's just in that room, and you wouldn't want her to think you don't like her present."
"But I don't," Rose pouted, nevertheless lowering her voice. Josh gave her a scolding look then went on with his own business, Rose trudging along behind.
By the time they got to the stable, Chris had already led the horse out and was walking it around for the viewing benefit of his cousins. It was indeed splendid, and Josh noticed with some pride the envious glances some of the other children were throwing it. He could just imagine himself sitting on that horse's back, tall and proud--after he grew a couple feet, of course.
"He is magnificent," said Henry Bingley. "When did he come?"
"First off," said Chris, still walking the horse, "he is a she. And I don't know."
The sound of a window opening caused them all to look up, though none of them really expected to see anything more than the vanishing arms of a servant. When instead Matthew appeared, several of the children gave a shout of joy.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"I could ask you the same question!" said Alex. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
"That's what the doctor said. What is your point?"
There was some hesitant laughter. Jocelyn stepped forward and, trying to be serious, said,
"Please don't do anything you shouldn't, Matthew."
He rested his elbows on the ledge and smiled.
"I won't if you won't. Whose horse is that?"
"Mine!" said Josh, moving forward to take the reins from Chris. The horse reared at the sudden movement, effectively breaking free of both their grasps. Some of the children gasped with fright, but Chris moved cautiously towards the horse and took the reins again before turning on Josh.
"That was a very foolish thing to do. Who told you she was yours?"
"Well, it stands to reason. I got a cart, so I need a horse!"
"I don't think she'd be much good for pulling a cart," said Matthew. "Too wild."
"I can break her," said Josh confidently.
"You?" Chris sneered.
"Well, if Father bought her for me, he must think I can do it."
"Kit seems to handle her well," Peter observed. "Maybe she has simply taken a dislike to her owner."
"No, Christopher handles all animals well, especially horses," said his sister, simpering a little. Chris looked, confused, at Alex, who had to look away to hide a laugh.
"I wonder if she's ever been ridden," said Peter.
"Anybody else, I'd say she was too young," Chris muttered, still looking out the corner of his eye at Eugenie.
"No, she looks grown and healthy enough to me," said Peter.
"Oh, the mare. Yes. Well, my father has never bought a horse that couldn't be ridden."
"I daresay you ride all of them."
"Well, not Jane's little pony. Much too easy a temperament for me. It's the very devil to coax that thing into a tolerable trot."
"Don't say devil, Chris," said Jane.
"Do you think you could ride this one?" Peter asked, grinning at Chris. Chris looked surprised for a moment, then gave the horse another assessing glance before saying,
"Yes. I see no reason why not."
"I do!" said Josh. "She's not yours! She's mine!"
"Oh, Josh, do shut up!" said Peter crossly, then turned back to Chris.
"I don't think you can do it."
"Then you're wrong."
"Would you like to make it a bet?"
"Why not? How much?"
"Christopher!" Eugenie whined. "This isn't how we're supposed to celebrate Christmas!"
"Ten pounds."
"Splendid." Chris started walking the horse back to the stable, to get her saddled and ready to go. Josh frowned after him then looked up at Matthew, who was also frowning.
"I don't like the Walkers," Josh said. "They're so obviously attention-seekers."
Marissa was surprised, on entering Matthew's room, to find him scrambling into his clothes. He was embarrassed, not so much at having been caught trying to break the doctor's orders, as being caught in a state of undress by a girl known to be infatuated with him. He was even more nonplused when she did not immediately apologize and go away. He waited for her to do so, finally saying,
"Why don't you wait for me on the other side of the door?"
"I have four brothers, Matthew," she said, amused. "Besides, it's not as if your underthings are more revealing than your ... overthings."
"That's true," he said, laughing.
"Shouldn't you be in bed, anyway?"
"Yes, but..."
"You want to know what's going on downstairs."
He smiled his most winning smile.
"Would you like to help me?"
How could she resist that smile, coupled with such an invitation? She fell eagerly to work, bringing him his boots, finding his favorite hat, and helping him on with his coat. She almost despaired during this final task, at the number of times she heard him gasp in pain, but she knew it would be worse if he did it himself, even as she knew she could not convince him to stay in bed.
"I wish Kesler could help us," she said.
"Why don't you ask him?"
"He's not here. Your father sent him to Bristol."
"Oh." He seemed surprised at this news, but not so out of countenance as when, just as they were about to walk out the door, it opened seemingly of its own volition and Sir Christopher stepped in. Father and son stared at each other for a moment.
"Uhhh," said Matthew, looking at the bed and then back at Christopher.
"What in God's name are you doing out of bed?"
"I'm going outside," said Matthew. "There's going to be a race." Marissa giggled.
"What sort of race?"
"Well, not a race precisely. Peter bet Kit he couldn't sit my uncle's new horse, and they're going to test it."
"And why must you see this? Couldn't you just as easily watch them from your window?"
"Yes, but..."
"He thinks the fresh air will do him good," said Marissa. Christopher shook his head, sorely tempted to laugh, but not wanting to let them think their behaviour was excused.
"I have to talk to Chris," said Matthew.
"Well, you get back into bed. You're not going anywhere until that cough goes away. You may talk to Chris after his race...bet."
Matthew was going to retort, but he suddenly felt as though the only thing that would happen if he opened his mouth would be another coughing fit, and that would hardly help his case. He said in a very tight voice,
"Marissa, can you get me a glass of water?"
Marissa hesitated a moment before running off on this errand. After she had gone, Matthew cleared his throat and said,
"I didn't know Kesler was gone."
"Yes. I had some business in Bristol, and he has gone to ... keep it there until I can join him."
"Then you're going, too?"
"Yes. I received a note from him this morning. I will leave tomorrow."
"You never had business in Bristol before."
"I do now." After Matthew was settled back in his bed, Christopher changed the subject by noticing a few sketches lying on the table. "Still harboring thoughts of revenge, Matt?"
Matthew smiled and looked down.
"Not as much. No cause to worry."
"I had wondered what exactly you thought to do. What changed your mind?"
"Well, that's just it. There's nothing I could do, that wouldn't make me just as bad as them. It's a hard pill to swallow, though."
"Aye, there's the rub," Christopher agreed. "Better leave that ugly business to someone else."
Matthew looked at him sharply.
"Do you mean God?"
"Who else?"
"I thought perhaps you meant Kesler."
Christopher was glad for the interruption that came when Marissa came back with Matthew's glass of water. He took it gratefully then said,
"Can you do me one more favour?"
"That depends on what it is."
"Can you take a note from me to Chris?"
She agreed and, after he had given her the missive, scampered off. Christopher watched her go, then turned to Matthew and said,
"Is there anything there your mother should be aware of?"
Matthew gave him a look that clearly said, "Are you joking?" Christopher laughed.
"Well, if there isn't, why is she so keen on doing you favours?"
"She is sweet on me, but that doesn't mean anything," said Matthew defensively. "It will pass. And in the meantime, I don't see anything wrong with taking advantage of her preference."
"Hmm. Yes. You know, I think you were right before. You should leave revenge to someone else. You don't need the extra guilt."
Chris meant to win this bet. He had had enough of Peter's mouth today. The boy was likely to ruin Christmas for everybody if he wasn't put in his place. Already he had nearly come to blows with Robin, and Morgan had done her best to permanently damage him, as well. But apparently physical blows were not the sort that Peter cared about. No, Chris meant to wound his pride.
He mounted the mare carefully then glanced at Peter. Peter smirked and leaned against the brick wall of Pemberley, pretending to clean his fingernails with the knife his father had given him that morning. Chris raised one eyebrow and very deliberately pulled on his riding gloves. This tiny movement startled the horse so that she reared, causing Chris to grab the reins in a desperate attempt to stay on. He was surprised when Peter was the one who jumped forward to help keep him from falling and breaking his neck. When they had calmed her down, Peter grinned up at him and said,
"Are you absolutely sure you want to try this? I doubt she's ever been ridden before."
"Then all the better for me, to be able to sit her so calmly on her first time," said Chris. Peter shrugged and stepped back. Just as Chris was finished readying himself, Marissa scampered towards him. Oddly enough, the mare did not object to her sudden movements.
"I have a message for you from Matthew," Marissa panted, thrusting the note up at him.
"Not now, Riss," said Chris, struggling to hold the horse in check. "I'll read it later."
"But Matthew said it was urgent!"
"Well, then I'll read it as soon as I'm done."
Marissa scowled at him then turned and joined her cousins as they watched the spectacle. As it happened, Chris was a very good rider. He kept the mare steady for a good two minutes before she reared up on her hind legs and dashed off in the direction of the woods, Chris still hanging on to her mane.
There was a collective gasp as several children realized what was happening and ran after him. Just before the horse was about to run out of their sight, she came to a sudden halt, causing Chris to catapult off her back and into a thicket just ahead. Some of the younger boys tried to stifle giggles--to them it was a very amusing sight. The older children, however, gave each other worried glances before, as if by some sort of unspoken agreement, Alex stepped forward to see if his brother was all right. Before he had taken two steps, a very welcome sound came from the thicket.
"Ow."
"Kit?" Alex looked tentatively into the shrubbery. Chris blinked up at him. "Are you all right?"
"Of course," said Chris contemptuously, still lying on his back.
"Then why don't you get up? Can you move?"
"I can. I don't want to."
"Well, come on, everybody's worried. Show them you're all right."
"Actually, I think I bruised something..."
"I'd be surprised if you hadn't. Did you break anything?"
"I sprained my pride." He chuckled ruefully. "Bring Peter over here. And do it solemnly."
Alex disappeared and in a few minutes Peter was looking down at him, remorse written on every feature.
"You all right, Kit?"
"How much did we say? Ten pounds?"
"Yes. That was it."
"Here it is. Take it." He moved his hand slightly, as if it was a great effort to do so. Peter reached down to take it, but instead of finding money in his cousin's limp hand, he was pulled down on top of him. After a brief period of wrestling, Chris bounced up, laughing, and limped back in the direction of the house, leaving Peter fuming behind him.
Marissa stalked up to him and gave him the note from Matthew.
"Now will you read it?" she asked. Chris obliged her with a smile--it always pleased him to bring Peter down a peg, no matter the injuries to himself. His smile disappeared, however, when he read the note.
Don't forget to check the reins before you start. M.B.
Chris frowned and looked around for the horse. Josh had already retrieved her, and was standing beside her, one hand on the bridle, a little ways off from the rest of the children. The horse seemed fidgety; Josh was having a terrible time keeping her in check.
Chris began to have suspicions.
A quick examination of the reins and saddle proved him right. The reins were not cut, so to speak, but only a bit frayed, seemingly on purpose, in a few places. However, the leather strap was cut clean in two just under the horse's belly.
His reaction was quick: he stalked up to Peter, tapped him on the shoulder, and knocked him down. Peter set up a great howl and, jumping to his feet, leapt at Chris. A short tussle ensued, during which Chris's eye was blacked, Peter's nose was bloodied, and both boys had their hair considerably mussed. This last proved to be the greater trial when Peter's mother, Lady Hastings, formerly Caroline Bingley, rounded the corner arm in arm with Lady Preston and Lady Matlock
Anne's mouth formed a perfect O; Margaret gave a stern command for them to stop this nonsense; Caroline shrieked, dropped her companions' arms, and rushed forward to rescue her son. This action turned out to be unwarranted, for Alex and Robin had already separated them.
"What are you doing?" Margaret asked, as if it was a great effort for her not to take them both by the ear and drag them into the house. "Have you no respect for the day? For your father's house?" she turned to Chris, then to Peter. Both boys stopped struggling and looked at the ground.
"Sorry," Chris mumbled.
"He started it," said Peter.
"What? You tried to kill me!"
"I did no such thing!"
"You did! You cut the strap!"
"What is going on here?" asked a male voice. All four boys--Robin, Alex, Peter, and Chris--groaned and tried to look innocent as Darcy, Sir John and Max Callahan came around the same corner the ladies had entered from a moment ago. Darcy was about to scold his own sons when his attention was diverted by an excited Rose throwing herself at him.
"Papa!" she said. "I was so frightened! The mare just ran off and threw Kit into the thicket! But he's all right now, you see."
"Yes, I see," said Darcy, eyeing his disheveled son from top to bottom. Chris tried to look repentant and throw angry glares at Peter at the same time. Darcy smiled and said, in a voice that was trying to control its amusement, "You may let him go, Alex. Robin." Chris and Peter shook themselves free. "Now, you two will come with me to my study, where we will try to sort this out. Lady Hastings, would you please come with us?"
Caroline flushed with pleasure.
"Anything you say, Mr. Darcy."
Darcy nodded, a smile still lurking around his mouth, and turned to go. When he spotted Josh still standing with the mare, his smile faded and he asked, "Is that the horse that threw you, Chris?"
"Yes."
"It arrived this morning?"
"Yes."
Darcy sighed and looked again at Rose, who was still holding his hand.
"Well, then, I hope you like your Christmas present, Rose. I had hoped to surprise you, but it seems your brother had other ideas."
"I didn't..." Chris started, but was interrupted as Rose squealed and ran towards the horse.
"But...!" Josh sputtered. "What about my cart? Don't I need a horse?"
"She is soooo beautiful!" Rose said, cooing at the mare, who whinnied and stamped its foot.
"Careful, Rose!" Alex said. "Father....she isn't safe," he added in a low voice, afraid to be mistaken as insolent.
"She's safe enough for Rose," said Darcy. "Jezebel is trained to be a lady's mount. She cannot tolerate men."
At his words, several of the girls giggled and Josh stepped cautiously away from Jezebel. Darcy paused for one more minute, still looking at Rose as she fawned over her new pet, before remembering his responsibility to chastise Chris and discover the cause of the fight.
The meeting in Darcy's study did not last long. Chris apologized for his part in the affair, but stood fast in declaring that Peter was the only one who could have cut the strap.
"But maybe he didn't mean to kill me," he finally conceded.
"Of course I didn't!" said Peter and immediately shut his mouth. Caroline, who had up until now defended her son hotly, turned to him with wide eyes.
"Then you did cut the strap?"
"Well....yes. But I didn't think he'd be thrown. I swear, I only thought he would fall off as soon as he moved..."
Caroline stared at him awhile longer before turning back to Darcy, a rueful smile on her face.
"It appears I owe you and Christopher an apology."
"Not at all, Lady Hastings," said Darcy. "It is Peter, not you, who is at fault. And it is Chris, not I, to whom the apology should be given."
Caroline was not listening, however, and began to scold her son.
"How could you do such a foolish thing? I told your father not to give you that knife, but nobody ever listens to me."
"I thought it would be funny," Peter mumbled. "Everybody was going on and on about how good he is with animals....."
"I promise you, Mr. Darcy, he will not go unpunished." She took Peter by the arm and began to drag him out of the room. "No, you will not escape. Your father will hear of this. To think, endangering a Darcy, your host, at his own estate! I did not think I could raise such a little fool!"
Chris looked at his father, pleading silently with him to stop this embarrassing display.
"No punishment is necessary, Lady Hastings," said Darcy. "I see that it was an accident. An apology will suffice, and I think it would be nice if they were to shake hands. To show there are no hard feelings," he added when Peter balked and Caroline looked confused.
Peter mumbled a quick apology, shook Chris's fingers, and hurried out of the room. Caroline followed, still spouting apologies and recriminations, and Darcy and son were left alone.
After sorting that mess out, Darcy was reminded of something else he needed to do. As soon as he entered the drawing room, his brother dragged him to one side and said in a low voice, "Does Georgiana look all right to you?"
Darcy looked to where his sister was sitting with Sir John and Anne and nodded slowly.
"She looks fine to me. Rather bored, but anybody would be, listening to those two."
James smothered an involuntary snicker and continued with his quest. "Kitty told me that Georgiana is having problems. Of the marital sort." He darted his eyes in Christopher's direction. Darcy looked at each of the parties in question.
"I see nothing amiss. You will have to tell me what is going on. Have you talked to either of them, yourself?"
"Well....no."
"Why not?"
James squirmed slightly. "I tried, but Blakeney talks in circles, as I think you know..."
Darcy laughed, "Well, perhaps the two of us together can corner him."
James agreed and the two of them walked casually over to where Christopher was observing a chess match between Max and Brian Callahan. After a few minutes of standing there, he turned around and faced them. "Is there anything you want?"
"Only a word," said Darcy.
"Or twenty," said James.
Christopher noted their serious faces and shrugged, "Very well, then." He led them back to where they had been standing before. "What is it?"
"We have reason to believe that Georgiana is unhappy."
Christopher took a cautious step backward, mindful that he was dealing with two very protective brothers. "W-what reason?" he asked. "I was not aware of anything. Has she spoken with you?"
"No, but she had a few words with my wife," said James. "She said Georgiana was quite ... distracted. Have you had a quarrel?"
"No! That is, I don't think so. The past few days have been quite hectic, and I don't remember everything, but.... Unhappy? Did she really say so?" James and Darcy looked at each other. "There is a perfectly reasonable explanation, if she is unhappy," said Christopher. "But then, would she use the word `unhappy'? It doesn't seem right. Did she say she was unhappy?"
"No, she didn't," said Darcy hurriedly. "Did she, James?"
"No, I had it from Kitty. She said Georgiana said ... she was worried. That's it."
"Worried. Well, that's different, isn't it?" Christopher frowned at his brothers-in-law. "Why shouldn't she be worried? I'm worried, too."
"Well, that's the thing," said James. "Kitty said she was worried about you."
"Me?" Christopher was dumbfounded. "Why?"
"We were hoping you could tell us that."
"Oh, I see." Christopher smiled. "Well, I don't know. And there you have it. If you want to know what Georgiana is thinking, I suggest you ask Georgiana." And he walked off. James scowled at his older brother.
"Why did you have to scare him like that?"
"I, scare him? If I recall correctly, James, you were the one who dove right into the heart of the matter, without taking the time to put him at his ease. You know how he gets when he thinks we're angry with him. Did you see the look on his face? Pure panic."
"Well, whose fault is that? Remember, they were already married by the time I showed up. You had already had time to make him wary of the Darcy temper."
Darcy looked sheepish for a moment then, looking past James to the sofa, his face brightened. "But it doesn't look as though we will need to learn what's going on. He's already investigating it for himself. Well, perhaps there's something to be said for intimidation, after all."
"Or maybe he is just concerned about his wife," said James, watching Christopher lead Georgiana out of the room. "I don't think he was as frightened of us as you'd like to think."
Darcy laughed.
"That would explain why you look so crestfallen."
"Well, as you said, there can be an advantage to having your brother-in-law deathly afraid of you."
"Which is why you needed my help to confront him."
"I'm not going to talk to you anymore, Fitz."
Christopher was beginning to think his brothers-in-law were quite daft. Georgiana had not betrayed the least sign in the past few minutes of walking that she was either worried or unhappy.
"I have always loved Pemberley best at Christmastime," she said dreamily. "Everything is so peaceful. If I could keep from freezing, I'd sit out here for hours and just lose myself in my thoughts."
"As long as you found your way back to Blakeney Hall, I'd be happy," said Christopher, smiling as she reached out to touch the thorn of a rosebush with her fingertip. She grinned at him over her shoulder, looking very girlish, then joined him again on their walk.
"I will be happy to go home," she confessed. "Away from the bustle of the holidays..." she paused as several children ran past them towards the house, then laughed. "The children seem to enjoy the company, though."
"Well, they will be tired of it soon enough, and we can take them away with a clear conscience."
"Oh, yes," she said with mock solemnity. "It is only a matter of time until Morgan challenges one of those boys to a duel."
"Already done, m'dear."
"Oh, dear! Which boy?"
"All of them."
"Well, that would make it easier for them to refuse, then, if it was a group challenge."
"You don't blame me for teaching her to fence, do you?"
"No. If she wanted it, she would have found a way to do it, sooner or later." She smiled at him reassuringly and slipped her fingers into his. Just as they were developing a cozy silence, a horse stopped in front of the house and a young boy alighted. Since there was nobody else around at present, Georgiana stepped forward to talk to the messenger.
"I got a message for..." he checked the address "...Sir Christopher Blakeney. That's not you, I wager."
Georgiana was taken aback by his rude manner.
"Well, no..."
"It's all right, m'dear," said Christopher, laughing as he came forward to claim the message.
"I hope it's good news, sir," said the boy. "A fellow doesn't like to deliver bad news on Christmas. Not that I like delivering any news on Christmas, of course."
"Of course," said Christopher absently. "Go around to the back of the house and see what you can get from the cook. Maybe she won't notice your lack of manners."
The boy grinned and scampered off. Christopher finished reading the letter, then folded it quickly, thereby disappointing Georgiana, who was trying to read over his shoulder.
"Is it from Bristol?" she asked. It was. "Are you really going, then?"
"Kesler writes that he doesn't know what to do next, and he begs for me to either join him or give him instructions. I think I should assess the situation for myself."
"Christopher, what is this business about?"
He turned around, a slight smile on his face. Georgiana thought it very odd, for him to smile in such a way, but she did not smile back.
"Are you worried about me, Georgie? Do you think I'm going to run off and ... let something happen to me?"
Georgiana hung her head.
"Something like that had crossed my mind. But Christopher, in my own defense, you must allow that, considering what has happened lately with Matthew, and knowing what you have done in the past when things of much less moment happened....was it unreasonable of me?"
"Perhaps not," he admitted. He sighed and drew her closer to him, putting one arm around her shoulders. "I'm not going to get myself killed, or anything of that nature. I doubt very much I will even have a hand laid on me...."
"You doubt?"
"I'm sure."
He would have said more, but at that moment there was a distinct giggle from behind them. They turned around and, at first glance, saw nothing, but further inspection showed Marcus and Becky on the other side of the dormant rose bush. They were lying on the snow, with Becky on her back and Marcus leaning over her. Becky gasped when Christopher and Georgiana looked at them over the top of the bush, then both the young people started laughing.
"I wonder if it is what it looks like," Christopher remarked to Georgiana. They cocked their heads at the younger couple in an inquiring manner, then looked at each other again.
"I don't think they would find it so amusing if it were anything serious," said Georgiana.
"I wonder what Lady Jocelyn would say," said Christopher.
"That is something to consider, to be sure."
"Oh, she wouldn't care!" Becky said as soon as she could stop laughing. "She told Ma- Mr. Wickham so, herself."
"Did she now?" said Christopher. "My dear girl, I think you know him well enough to call him Marcus."
"We were just..having a snowball fight, Sir Christopher," said Marcus, standing and helping Becky to her feet--she was buried too deep in the snow to do it herself. Christopher and Georgiana continued to look solemn, though Georgiana had to look down to hide a smile more than once.
"Aye," said Becky. "Just a little game. And it's so slippery...the snow, I mean, and... Well, it's a celebration."
"Indeed? Of what?"
"Of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy intending to adopt Mar..Mr... Marcus."
"Not adopt, Becky," said Marcus. "Take in. Help. But not adopt. I won't be a Darcy, and neither will my sisters or my brother, if I can help it."
"Perhaps your siblings would like to be Darcys," said Georgiana gently. Marcus narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously, but shrugged it off, deciding there was no insult to his mother in her words.
"Daniel and Bridget may do as they like, I suppose. Sophie will do as I tell her. I do appreciate the sentiment, though," he added quickly, afraid he would offend them if he spoke too contemptuously of the Darcys' offer.
"Well, I hope you will do well with your good fortune, Mr. Wickham," said Georgiana. Marcus nodded politely and walked off, guiding Becky along with one hand. Georgiana sighed and said,
"It is done, then. Wickhams and Darcys living together at Pemberley. Do you think it will always be this way?"
Most of the guests departed the next morning. Only the Blakeneys stayed, in order to wait for Matthew's full recovery, and for Christopher to return from Bristol. Rose and Josh were sad to see everybody leave at once, but the news that their cousins the Wickhams would be living with them from now on cheered them up.
"And since we don't know how long it will take for Matthew to be well again," said Rose, happily dancing from one foot to the other, "Morgan and Annie will be staying longer, too!"
"That is splendid, darling," said Elizabeth with a wry smile at Georgiana. "But you would like for Matthew to get well again, wouldn't you?"
"Oh, of course," said Rose quickly, blushing. "I only meant that..."
"Yes, dear. I know. Run along and play now, will you?"
Rose was only too happy to escape. Elizabeth took Georgiana's arm and the two ladies walked into the house together.
"Now that everybody is gone," said Elizabeth, "I hope you will have time to let me hear that new piece you told me about last month. What was it?"
Georgiana's face lit up and she said,
"It's a waltz. I heard it in Paris this summer, and Christopher was able to find the music for me. Have you heard of a man named Frederic Chopin?"
Elizabeth said she had not, and it was with great enthusiasm that Georgiana showed her the reason for her excitement. Elizabeth felt twice the satisfaction, for having rescued Georgiana from the doldrums, as well as being treated to such a wonderful sound.
Georgiana had been despondent ever since she woke to find Christopher already gone. He had left very early that morning, and was even now walking down a back-alley street in Bristol, looking for the inn where Kesler was staying. It was hard to find, for Christopher had told him to find as obscure a place to secure their prey as possible. When he did find it, he did not even bother to knock, but went straight to Kesler's room.
Kesler was sitting on the bed with a pistol in his hand, poised and ready to shoot. Christopher's entrance startled him so that he jumped and nearly pulled the trigger. Thankfully, he had enough control of himself to keep from doing that.
"You could have knocked, sir," Kesler said reproachfully. Christopher smiled apologetically and shrugged, then turned his attention to the object Kesler's pistol was actually intended for. He raised one eyebrow and surveyed the sulking man who was tied to the chair.
"But who is this?" he said in feigned astonishment, then said in a voice of a parent scolding a child, "Kesler, have you taken to kidnaping again?" Kesler smiled faintly.
"I had orders, sir."
"Did you, indeed? I had the distinct feeling you instigated this trip yourself."
The man in the chair scowled at them.
"So you're the person we've been waiting for," he said scornfully, looking Christopher up and down.
"Dear me! Kesler, you seem to have grabbed the wrong person. This man is obviously not English."
"My mistake," said Kesler dryly. He had by now realized his employer had plans of his own.
"No, I'm not English," said the man, turning his scowl upon Kesler. "And you gentlemen have made me miss my ship."
"My sincere apologies, Mr. Porter," said Christopher. He stepped closer to him to have a better look at his face. He could not help a smile at the evidence of a rough time to be seen there, but he quickly hid his satisfaction and turned to look dolefully at Kesler. "And you've beaten him, as well. Tsk, tsk." He walked around the chair, closely observing their prisoner.
"Since I'm not the person you sought," said Mr. Porter in disgustingly cultivated accents, "I would be pleased if you let me go." He craned his neck to get a look at Christopher, who was standing behind him. "And if you reimbursed me for my fare, I would be happy not to press charges."
"That is very good of you, I'm sure," said Christopher somewhat tensely. He knelt behind Porter's ear, but he made no move to remove his bonds. "Kesler, I'm surprised at you," he said softly. "You should have been able to tell this person is not English. Now what cause would a man not of our country have to come here with the express purpose of murdering a young boy?"
Kesler saw the man flinch, and as his own heartbeat accelerated, was just able to murmur a very fast reply. It seemed to him that he had become superfluous.
"Why did you come to England, Mr. Porter?"
"How do you know my name?"
Christopher grinned.
"I asked you first."
"Why do you need to know? Are you going to kill me?"
Christopher pondered this a moment, then shrugged.
"I haven't decided yet. Why did you come here? Why were you in Derbyshire? And what made you go to Pemberley?"
"What's Pemberley?"
"Very well, then. We'll start with England. Why are you here?"
"My wife is from England. We came to visit her family."
"How unfortunate, then, that no matter how this interview turns out, you will die very soon."
Christopher walked around the chair again and Porter was finally able to get a better look at him. He looked down, regret finally washing over his features.
"You're that boy's father, aren't you? He said you'd kill us, but we took it as nonsense..."
"Does your wife's family live in Derbyshire?"
"No. London."
"What brought you to Pemberley, then?"
"Listen," said Porter, becoming excited, "I wasn't the only one there. I was drunk...."
"Getting a running start on your Christmas celebrations, were you? Just tell me what you were doing there."
"I didn't mean to...to hurt him so much. He wouldn't stop shouting at us. I only hit him once, myself. It was the others... Ford especially! He's the one who..."
"Just tell me what you were doing there!" Christopher shouted, incensed. Porter's pleas stuck in his throat and he stared with his mouth open for a few seconds before rushing out with the story.
"Ford--my brother-in-law--said he'd seen Gabriel at one of the docks a few months ago. He noticed the name of the boat--The Daydream, I think it was. It wasn't hard to find out the owner, or where you were."
"I see." Christopher paced the room. He had almost decided what he would do, but he felt the need to be pushed just a little in the right direction.
"You are going to kill me, aren't you?" said Porter dully.
"It would be cleaner, sir," said Kesler, hoping to be helpful. "Would Lady Blakeney want a trial? Would Matthew? He would have to testify."
"Yes, it would be convenient, if only to avoid the trial." Christopher said thoughtfully. He glanced at Porter again. "Would your brother-in-law Ford happen to be related to the Sir James Ford so influential in parliament?"
Porter seemed reluctant to reply. Christopher smiled and turned to Kesler.
"Well, it seems our friend here would like to avoid a messy trial as much as we. In fact, I think, if things were to progress very far at all, it would be far less injurious to me and mine, than to his."
"But--what have they done to you?" Porter protested as Christopher pulled him out of the chair and pushed him towards the door. "Really, I think that is a very unchristian reason to..."
"What had my son done to you, or your friends? I think it would go far better for you, Mr. Porter, if you were to be silent. `Give unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's'--you have committed murder in Caesar's territory, sir. You now belong to Caesar. Kesler, you still belong to your wife. Go home."
"Yes, sir."
Josh was persistent in trying to get Matthew to allow him to help with whatever it was he had planned, but Matthew was just as persistent in refusing, as well as having three other young men on his side. The only other person available to him, since he continued in his prejudice against female company, was Daniel. Plans were begun to send them both to school, and in their excitement, the two boys became inseparable. Josh became even more exclusively inclined towards Daniel's company when he happened upon the discovery that Matthew's all-important plan was nothing more than an extension of Alex's idea to sail around the world. Such disappointment had never been felt before by a boy of twelve-years-old, and disgust in his cousin's lack of a desire for vengeance soon followed.
On the whole, Lydia's children fit in well with their grand cousins. At first, they were all a bit frightened of Morgan, but they soon found that her temper cooled when it was less- constantly tried by multitudes of people, and since she was not a permanent residence of Pemberley, anyway, they decided they should be perfectly comfortable. Daniel took a profound interest in the law, and it was soon decided that he should make it his profession.
Sophie's main interest continued to be in men, but her cousin Jane was able to modify her tastes, and expand her horizons, if only a little. Chris and Alex were much relieved when the experience of living with them proved to be too much for Sophie's admiration, and she stopped hanging on them during every holiday from school.
Bridget was a bit harder to place. She took an interest in everything, wanted to be everything, but could not decide on any one thing in particular. She enjoyed school, except for her schoolmates. When Elizabeth discovered that she was a subject of ridicule, due to her shady heritage, she was taken out of school, and a governess was hired for all the girls. Finally, it was discovered that she had a talent for music. There was no instrument in particular that she loved, though she had a partiality to strings. It did not take long for her to collect a vast amount of violins, cellos, harps, et al, and she began to talk of being a professional musician.
Marcus Wickham soon discovered all there was to enjoy about life in the Darcys' circle. Besides the challenge of earning Matthew's trust--respect was still a ways off--he formed friendships with Cameron Preston and Henry Bingley, and acquired an admirer in Josh, who always believed every word he said, no matter how outlandish or unbelievable the conquest. He also had the freedom to roam about Pemberley as he pleased, which gave him many opportunities to be with Becky. On further acquaintance, he found her to be a very agreeable girl, though not over-intelligent. Add that to the fact that, unlike other girls, her beauty was not diminished by daily acquaintance, he soon found it difficult to think of anybody else.
Darcy and Elizabeth were unaware that there was a real attachment there, until Marcus announced one night that he wished to marry. At first, Darcy assumed that he meant one of the girls in Lambton, and was not particularly surprised that George Wickham's son had as little scruples about abandoning young women as his father had. The surprise came when Marcus said that it was actually Becky he wanted to marry. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy had any objections to the match, since Marcus's own parents weren't terribly grand, despite the fact that his mother was "a gentleman's daughter." Darcy's only objection was that Marcus had no profession, and could not support a wife, let alone any children that might result.
Their next surprise came a few seconds later when Marcus said that he had actually been hired by Matthew Blakeney to be a sailor on the Daydream. It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least, and not only because Marcus's father was George Wickham and Matthew's mother was Georgiana Darcy. But Matthew's friendship with Gabriel had also started on bad terms, so his parents decided it must just be his way. And since Marcus's father had died too early to have a real effect on him, it was thought by all parties concerned with the matter, that all similarities must have been only inherited, and not taught, and anything else was open to chance and change.
Lady Jocelyn Fitzwilliam took a few more months to make up her mind, but she did eventually marry Freddy Stanton, who by then had become Viscount Raleigh. Flighty as she could be, she did make him a good wife, and she could not have found a better husband. He cherished, admired, and respected her so much that she became invaluable to him in his business and in keeping his estate well-managed. She had some wild ideas--she could not help it--but it surprised both of them that the most wild of her ideas worked wonders, while the tamer ones brought the same sort of results--tame.
Matthew did not see Marissa again for a long time, though she kept up a mostly one-sided correspondence with him for a few months. He did not mean to neglect her, but she could not understand why, when she was so good as to send pages of news and thoughts to him, he could only send a few lines back. She finally gave up, and when they met again, he had the satisfaction that he had judged rightly. She no longer cared anything for him as she had. He would have felt terribly guilty if he thought he had caused her pain, but since her eyes seemed to be focused now on a young Mr. Pickering residing in her own neighbourhood, he could go away safe and comfortable in the knowledge that she would always be one of his best friends.