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The silence lasted exactly two weeks. To Mrs. Reynolds, they had seemed like an interminable two weeks. For the entire period, she had watched them from behind hooded lids waiting for something to happen. An outburst perhaps. A fireworks show. A match of wits. Or perhaps a reconciliation even. But nothing happened, absolutely nothing. Mrs. Reynolds had all but given up hope when the moment she had been waiting for finally came.
Ever since that day when Colin had spent his morning by the window, he had stayed glued to his bed, flatly refusing to spend any portion of his day out of it. He had no more visitors, just his Aunt Georgiana and Uncle Richard who always came to share his tea no matter how busy they were. He was grateful for their company and the love that they shared with him, but when all was said and done, they were not the people he wanted to see. They could not give him the friendship he desired.
When Colin was not sleeping, or taking tea with his relatives, he was usually stirring up a ruckus, and because of it the entire staffs' spirits were flagging. They wished he would sleep a little more. It was hard enough having to tend to one's duties in order to keep the house running without having to run to the young master's bedchambers every five minutes simply because he had found something else with which to take offense. Colin was running the staff ragged.
Still, Mrs. Reynolds did nothing. She was not a woman without experience in such matters. She knew that things would happen in their own time. She would wait until things got truly out of hand before she interfered. But until that moment, she would bide her time. She did not even confide her concerns in Georgiana. She was that confident in her abilities. Besides, Georgiana was far too preoccupied with other matters at the moment and Mrs. Reynolds was more than willing to let her deal with those details while she watched over the children. Mrs. Reynolds's patience was finally rewarded two weeks later.
Mary had been determined to avoid Colin ever since he had been so rude to her that day. She did not understand him. All she had tried to do was be his friend, offer him support and comfort, and what had he done? He had turned away from her. Dismissed her, and treated her as though she was no better than a lowly kitchen servant. Well, fine! If he wanted it to be like that, Mary would let him be like that. She did not need him! She did not feel hurt by his action; she was angry, annoyed even, but definitely not hurt. Or was she?
Mary did not understand Colin. She tried to understand him, or she thought she was trying to understand him, but he was not an easy person to get to know. He was certainly nothing like Dickon. Nobody was quite like Dickon. Dickon was smart. He knew everything. He had an excellent sense of humor, and could make her laugh until her belly ached. And above all, he was amiable, which was more than she could say about some other people she knew. Mary also knew she could trust Dickon and rely on him. He was a true friend.
Mary was not sure what kind of a friend Colin was. She had thought they were friends, but he was always quick to change. He was like a weathervane, constantly changing his directions, changing his temper whichever way the wind blew. And Mary never knew ahead of time in which direction the wind would blow. For all the time that they had spent together while Dickon was away, Colin was still an enigma, and as much as she did not want to let that bother her, it did. She had spent two weeks trying to ignore him and trying not to think about him, but it seemed as though the harder she tried, the more she thought about him. That irritated her. Mary needed answers, and she finally decided to do something about it.
Two weeks later, Mrs. Reynolds emerged from Colin's room bearing a tray filled with empty dishes. She had only walked two paces when she heard another set of light footsteps coming from the opposite direction; they grew louder as they drew nearer. Mrs. Reynolds knew that the sprightly footsteps belonged to one person, and one person alone. No other person would willingly come to Colin's bedchambers, certainly not the servants. Needing to satisfy her curiosity, Mrs. Reynolds fled shamelessly around the corner where she could watch the hallway and remain hidden at the same time. She knew it was wrong to spy, but she could not help herself. Whatever remorse she might have felt on the matter went up in smoke seconds later when her efforts were rewarded. She smiled as she watched Mary charge into Colin's bedroom, her footsteps laden with purpose.
Colin, with his back to the door, heard someone enter his room. Thinking it to be Mrs. Reynolds, returning for something or other, he did not bother addressing the person. That turned out to be a critical mistake.
His carelessness stoked the embers of anger that simmered within her. She was not sure where these strong emotions were coming from, but she knew only one thing. This was not to be borne!
"How dare you turn your back on me! Do you really think you are going to be able to ignore me forever? Although you may wish it, I am not going to disappear. For better or for worse, I dare say I am going to be living here at Pemberley for quite a while so you are just going to have to deal with it! You are just going to have to learn how to share!"
Colin, never one to back down from a fight, matched angry words with angry words of his own. "I will ignore you for as long as I like! If you can ignore me, so too can I ignore you! And I do not care a jot whether you live at Pemberley until the day you die. I will never acknowledge your presence ever again, now leave!"
That had Mary blinking. "When have I ever ignored you?" she finally asked.
Colin answered only as a petulant child would answer, "You know."
Mary rapidly went down a list of all her interactions with Colin. They had shared childhood stories with one another. They had read books to one another. They had played chess together. They had even watched birds from his bedroom window together. She shook her head. "Truly, Colin. I do not know."
Colin was loath to admit her transgressions. It was not easy for him to voice his hurt and pain. He was not accustomed to having to explain anything, period. Yet, he could not refrain from letting the tears pool at the bottom of his eyes either. A keen observer, Mary saw it all. "Please, Colin. I would know what I have done to create such a rift between us."
There was a long pause and silence filled the room. Just when Mary was about to give up and leave, she heard a small whisper. "You have rejected me many times."
"What?" Mary thought perhaps she had misheard him, but when he did not repeat it, she knew she had not. She was lost. She did not know what to say or how to react. Mary wished she had the advice of her mother or someone at that moment. Someone like her Aunt Elizabeth, perhaps. Mary had a feeling that she would have known what to do.
Mary sighed; it would be weeks before her Aunt Elizabeth visited Pemberley and she needed answers now. She decided to do her best. She remembered what Dickon had once told her about his cousin. Colin was accustomed to being neglected and accordingly, had grown to expect it. He was a child loved, but he did not know it because no one ever showed it. Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding somewhere between the two of them and if it could be fixed, Mary was willing to try.
"Colin, if I have ever rejected you, I apologize. I... never meant to do so. I swear it to you." She bit her bottom lip. "Would you... would you mind telling me when I have... rejected you?"
Colin turned an accusatory eye on her. "You know."
"No, I do not," Mary's hands found her hips as she clamped down on the frustration that instinctively wanted to surge within her. "And I am never going to know unless you tell me," she managed to explain without a snappish voice.
Seconds stretched into minutes. "Colin," she practically whined, "I am trying to do something about whatever it is you have against me but you are not helping me and I cannot do this alone."
"I thought we were friends," he finally said.
"We are, Colin." Mary cocked her head to one side before joining him on the bed like she had done so often on those afternoons they had spent together. Colin automatically moved over to make room for her.
"You never come see me anymore," Colin nervously twisted his bed sheet around in his fist.
"That's not true. I come see you every afternoon." He looked sharply at her. "Well, all right. I have been avoiding you these past few weeks, but that is because you were so mean to me that day and I was mad."
"I was mad too."
"And I would know why."
"Because you never have anymore time for me," Colin burst out. "You spend all your time with Dickon. I know I cannot compete with my cousin. He is not a cripple, but I cannot help who I am. I thought you were my friend now too, but as soon as Dickon came back you stopped coming to see me. You spend all your days with him and when you do come visit me, you bring him along. It is not fair that I should always have to share you when he does not."
Mary frowned. "That is awfully unfair of you to malign your cousin like that, Colin."
"See? Already you are his champion."
"Colin," she groaned. "Listen to me."
Colin tried to jerk away, but Mary held him back. "L-i-s-t-e-n to me," she commanded. "Are you going to listen to me?" Colin nodded.
"You must not blame your cousin, Colin. You are not being fair to him. He is a good person. Yes, he is a good person," she repeated when Colin would try and not listen. "But so are you," she softly added.
"You think I am a good person?" he asked wondrously.
"Of course I do." Both children were close to having tears rolling down their eyes. "And so do a lot of other people. You could have a lot of friends, if you would only let them be your friends."
"I don't believe that." Colin could not let himself believe that. A part of him was afraid that if he let anyone close, he would have to carry the unbearable risk of being hurt should that person ever turn away from him.
"You have to believe it, Colin. It is true. Do you know how many people love you in this house right now? Your aunt and your uncle love you. They would do anything for their nephew, so long as they could see him happy and well. Mrs. Reynolds worships you. She has watched you everyday of your life and will serve you faithfully until the end of her days. Dickon loves you. He is your cousin and wishes you could be friends. They would all be your champion if you would only let them."
"I don't know..."
"I do know, and you must trust me. You think of yourself as a cripple, Colin, and that is your mistake. You are not a cripple. You are as well as Dickon, as me, as Mrs. Reynolds and any other person that walks the grounds of this earth. You need only to believe it for it to be true."
"I always feel so faint though, like right now," the hypochondria returned at the immediate mention of illness. "And I have this hot, clammy sensation right here," he touched the temple of his forehead. "It's growing worse, Mary. Oh, it is so hot! My head hurts. Maybe you should ask Mrs. Reynolds to call for the doctor. Hurry, it might be too late by the time he gets here."
"Doctor my foot!" Mary beat the bed with her fist. "You are not sick! You only feel sick because you have not been out of bed for weeks and have not breathed fresh air. Anyone would feel sick if they had to sit in a stuffy room for days on end with nothing else to do but feel sorry for themselves."
"I resent that, Mary Bingley! I do not feel sorry for myself!"
"Don't you?" she taunted.
"No!"
"I think you do," Mary softly chided. "I think you are afraid to submit yourself to the world of the living. That is why you hide in your bed everyday, but you cannot avoid life forever."
"I could if I wanted to. I can do whatever I want and everyone else has to let me because I am the master at Pemberley and they have to listen to me. I give the orders."
Mary cocked her eyebrows. "You are most certainly not my master!"
"You know what I meant."
"Aye, I did, and I think that you have a rotten attitude. You are unforgivably rude and you refuse to even try to live. If you would only try to be a little nicer and show the respect that people deserve, including your servants, you would find that people would treat you similarly. And if you could see that you are capable of having friends, I guarantee that you would want to live and experience the satisfaction of friendship and life. However, if you insist on moping around all day long bemoaning your awful fate, I will not sit here and be a party to it. I have better things to do with my life than join you in your pity. There is a world out there waiting to be lived, Colin. Let it in and embrace it. You cannot hide from it forever. If you would just promise to try, I would in turn promise to help you adjust to your new life. Dickon too; we both want you to join the land of the living."
On the brink of capitulating to Mary's impassioned pleas, Colin pulled back abruptly. "No. Not Dickon."
"Why?" Mary frowned. "Why are you so averse to your cousin?"
"He annoys me," was Colin's petulant reply.
Mary raised her eyebrow. "Really? Well that is too bad for that is not a good enough explanation for me. If you cannot be friends with Dickon, I cannot be a friend to you. I do not wish to have to choose between the two of you, but now you have my answer should you decide to force me."
Mary took one look at Colin's pout and sighed. "I know you are jealous of your cousin though you will not admit it, Colin."
"Jealous? I am not jealous of Dickon! Why should I be jealous of him when I shall one day inherit a grand estate and he will not? He is, after all, only the son of a younger son."
His words enraged Mary. "That is if you live long enough to inherit! And who knows. If you die, perhaps your father will entail the estate on Dickon since there will be no one else to inherit Pemberley. What a fine thing that would be for Dickon, and I am sure his parents would be relieved."
Mary's words effectively silenced Colin. "Do not say words you do not mean, Colin. Your cousin is a good person," she said more gently. "You need only give him half a chance and you will see how much your cousin loves you and yearns to be your friend. Do not turn away something that could prove to be valuable in the long run."
Colin turned Mary's advice over and around in his head, letting the merit of her words sink in deep. To go out on a limb and try to live life as she described would mean giving up a great deal of his security, but to forego it would only mean more years of lonely solitude in his bedroom. He wanted to live like other little other boys, experience friendship and love, but he also feared the unknowing and unsuspecting. He weighed the interests against one another and found that it was no easy task. He did not know what to do.
Mary watched the tug of emotions playing out on his face and knew Colin had a difficult choice to make ahead of him. She saw a glimmer of light in his eyes and knew she had a fair chance of winning him over. She hoped and prayed that he would eventually see things her way, but she knew he needed time. It was a lot to absorb.
Mary kissed him on the forehead and said, "Think about what I have said this morning. When you have your answer, ring for me." Before she left his room, she turned around one more time though. "Colin. When it is time for you to make your choice, think really hard about what you want, think very carefully of the repercussions, and then make your final decision."
Earl and Countess of Matlock
Duke and Duchess of Candover
Mr. and Mrs. Higgensbottom
Dowager Marchioness of Riverdale
Marquis and Marchioness of Riverdale, and Lady ElisaMrs. Melissa Warring
Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey Sidwell
Viscount and Viscountess Hamerton
Mr. and Mrs. Kenrick Drummond
Earl and Countess of Medford
Mr. Albert Haden (Certified lecherous rake seeking an heiress.)
Miss Angelica Haden (Opinionated old maid seeking a rich and titled nobleman.)
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Tipton, and Misses Eloise, Frances, and Daphne Tipton
Duke and Duchess of St. Ives
Mr. and Mrs. Philip Burton, and Mr. John Burton, and Miss Christen BurtonMr. and Mrs. Wade Blackmoor
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Hurst
Miss Caroline Bingley (?)...
The list went on and on, more sheets than one were necessary. Colonel Fitzwilliam rifled around his wife's desk and found two more sheets of paper. Three pages total. At least they were not printed on front and back; that would be six. The list, he noticed, was haphazard at best. There was no order to the list: not by the alphabet, and certainly not by rank. Some of the names had been crossed out, like Mrs. Melissa Warring's. A few of the crossed out names were then added on again at the bottom though. Colonel Fitzwilliam wondered what that was all about. Other names had little annotations beside them. Sometimes it was a swift comment, like the ones scrawled by the Haden siblings' names. Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled at his wife's audacity. Other times it was a question mark, like the one by Miss Caroline Bingley's name. He wondered what the question mark was for; either way Miss Bingley was definitely questionable. He shuddered at the thought of that woman.
Colonel Fitzwilliam wondered what the list was for. He had walked into the morning room, expecting to find her leaning over her escritoire as she caught up with her correspondence, but she was nowhere to be found. Colonel Fitzwilliam scratched his head. His wife was a creature of habit and to not find her where she would usually be at this hour was highly unsettling. Following his confusion, he had walked over to the wooden desk to leave her a note, and that was when he had found this list.
He had not intended to pry into her affairs, but the curious-looking list had caught his attention and on impulse he had picked it up to peruse. Now he wondered what the list was all about. He tapped the flimsy sheets against the palm of his hand. His interest piqued, he was even more determined to find his wife.
A commotion by the front door roused his interest, and there he found his wife. Colonel Fitzwilliam watched in shock as his wife pulled up to the house atop a chestnut mare. Georgiana rarely rode horseback, though she did it well. It was not a sport she greatly enjoyed, but her husband did appreciate the sight of her riding sidesaddle. He thought she looked particularly angelic that morning in her royal blue riding habit and the straw bonnet, which framed her golden curls, and was decorated with perfectly matching blue ribbons.
One of the stable boys rushed up to help the mistress down from her mount, but Colonel Fitzwilliam quickly stepped down to wave him away. There was only one man who could do the job.
Georgiana smiled to see her husband and jumped merrily down into his arms. Holding her close to his chest as he let her slide down, the Colonel smiled down upon his wife. "Hello, my dear," he lazily drawled.
"Good-morning, Richard." Georgiana began to wiggle her way out of her husband's arms a few minutes later after she saw that her husband did not seem inclined to let her go. "Richard," she whispered. "The servants are watching."
"Oh, right. Sorry, dear." He kissed her soundly on the lips before releasing her.
Georgiana continued straight into the hallway, with Richard following closely behind. "What a surprise to see you here, waiting for me," she chattered gaily.
"I was not aware that you had gone out this morning."
"Hm?" Georgiana turned around just as she was taking off her bonnet. She laid it down on the table alongside her leather gloves and then patted down her hair as she gazed into the hallway mirror glass. "Oh, it was rather unexpected. Mrs. Reynolds came to me at breakfast and told me that Mrs. Herald became ill overnight. You had already left the house, so I could not tell you where I was going."
"How is Mrs. Herald?"
"She is not well," Georgiana answered honestly and frowned. "She has a terrible fever and an even worse cough. I wish I knew more in the way of herbal remedies so that I could help her more, but I still wanted to take some food over for her and her children. Three little girls, and so adorable." She paused and sighed. "The eldest is only eight, yet she must act the part of a mother while her own lies ill. It will not be easy for them until their mother is well again."
Colonel Fitzwilliam embraced his wife in a sympathetic hug. "Then you must visit them as often as you can, and take them what food Cook prepares. I will even go with you tomorrow."
Georgiana turned around to look into her husband's eyes. "Truly?"
"Truly." It was her generous and loving heart that endeared her most to him.
She put a hand to his cheek and then leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "You are such a dear." Changing tones, she added, "Was there something you wanted to see me about?"
Her husband pulled away from the embrace. "As a matter of fact there is. I am glad you reminded me for I almost forgot. I seem to do that every time you are near and take my breath away."
Georgiana laughed as she led the way to the morning room. "Flatterer."
Colonel Fitzwilliam drew the folded sheets of paper from his pocket. "I do not mean to pry, my dear, but I came across this list on your desk when I came looking for you. I was wondering what it is for."
Georgiana peered at the pieces of paper her husband brought over to her side and let out a tiny yelp. "You snooped!"
"I most certainly did not!" her husband answered in the most hurtful voice he could muster. That earned him a look from his wife. "Well, I certainly did not set out to spy on you! I was merely looking for you when the list of names caught my attention."
"And you just could not let it well alone."
"You know I have a curious nature," he pouted.
"And it will be the death of us both," she predicted.
"Well?"
Georgiana sighed. "I suppose it hardly signifies as I would have shared it with you in the end anyways."
"Of course you would," the Colonel soothed. "You share everything with me."
"That's what you think," she muttered.
"What was that dear?"
"Oh? Nothing. I was just saying that I was still working on the list. I was waiting to show it to you because I wanted it to be perfect when I did."
"Any list with Caroline Bingley on it is not perfect," her husband shuddered.
"That's why I put a question mark by her name." She tapped the piece of paper, pointing it out.
"So you did." Georgiana smiled at his graciousness. "Well, are you going to tell me why you wanted to create this perfect list?"
"Oh, yes, of course. You know I get easily sidetracked whenever I speak with you."
"It seems to be a mutually shared problem. Our presence overwhelms one another," he teased.
Georgiana ignored him. "The list is for our wedding anniversary ball."
Her husband almost stumbled. "I beg your pardon?"
"Our wedding anniversary ball. Have you forgotten? I know I have mentioned it more than once ever since our last anniversary. In fact, I would venture a guess and say that I have mentioned it at least once a week since our last anniversary."
The Colonel blinked and sat down. "Yes, but... I never imagined that you were in earnest."
"Why ever would I not be in earnest?" Georgiana cocked her head to one side.
"I haven't the faintest idea," he answered honestly.
"Silly husband."
"And where are you planning on having this ball?"
"Why, here of course! I say, Richard. You have not been listening to a single word I have said for the past three months!"
"That's not true... I just, I... well, to be honest I did not think you were actually being serious."
"I mentioned it to my brother... in your presence, if I recall correctly."
"I thought you were just trying to bait him!"
"Well, what is done is done. We are having this ball. Or, rather, my brother is having this ball in our honor. Only, I shall do all the planning of course."
"Of course."
"You are not angry with me, are you?"
"No, I am not angry. I just wish I had known."
"But you did know. You just did not listen to me."
"I know. I am just having difficulty imagining what your brother has to say about all of this. After all, if I did not listen to you, I cannot imagine that he would have heard you. He has the worst hearing."
"Only because he chooses to not listen," Georgiana huffed. "Fitzwilliam will have no say in the matter, not that he would really care either way. He gives me leave to do what I want with Pemberley, and I want to host our anniversary ball here. It is appropriate that my brother should do the honors. And since he will be the host of the ball, it will certainly bring him back to England!"
"Aha! Now we have the reason for why you want to have a ball. It is a convenient, albeit expensive, way to bring your brother home from France."
Georgiana gave an exasperated sigh. "Our anniversary ball is hardly just an excuse to bring my brother back to Pemberley. And I must say, I am a little miffed that you could even think I would think of it in such a way," Georgiana sniffed. "Our anniversary ball will be a celebration, shared with all our family and friends, of our blessed union and all the happy years we have spent together! That it also provides us with a way to bring Fitzwilliam back, ah well, that is just the added benefit of hosting the ball here."
"I see." The Colonel was not the least put out by all his wife's sniffling; years of marriage had taught him to be smarter than that. He cast a shrewd eye upon his wife and did some quick mental thinking. "If I am not mistaken, Miss Bennet will be visiting when this ball takes place. Is that not so?"
His wife gave a small cry of surprise. "Why, Richard! I do believe you are correct. Well that is wonderful. I am sure she will enjoy the event."
The feigned cry of surprise did not fool her husband for a second. "And will Miss Bennet appreciate you throwing her into the tedious company of the ton as well?"
"You should not speak of the society in which we move about like that, Richard. It is very naughty of you."
"Pot calling the kettle black, wife," he warned. "I have often heard you offer disparaging remarks about the ton."
"I know not of what you speak," she sniffed.
"Come, Georgiana. Let us not quarrel about the ton. You are trying to deliberately lead me down another path, but I will not be swayed. Let us return to the subject of Miss Bennet." Georgiana groaned. "Confess, my dear. You are doing some elaborate maneuverings to bring your brother and Miss Bennet together, aren't you?"
"Maybe..." she blushed and shied away from him, refusing to look at her husband.
He tugged her chin around. "I cannot hear your answer when you look away from me like that and then mumble."
"I... yes," she finally admitted. "And I do not see what is so wrong about what I am doing," she proudly added.
"Georgiana!" her husband groaned. "You are playing with the fires of fate!"
"Well somebody has to! And why should it not be me? After all, if it had not been for me, perhaps Miss Bennet and my brother would have had a chance."
"You? What does this have to do with you?" And so Georgiana repeated the explanation she had first given Mrs. Reynolds when she returned to Pemberley. "Georgiana," the Colonel ground out. "You must stop blaming yourself for what happened with Wickham," he spat out the name, "and everything else that man has done to hurt this family. You are not to blame, he is. You are the innocent who got caught as a pawn in his sick games."
"I know I am not to blame," Georgiana sighed. "Truly, I do. In my head I know that there is nothing I could have done to stop George Wickham. He was too cunning by half for me, and he took advantage of that. But in my heart, I cannot still help feel a little responsible. Especially when I see my brother as pained as he is."
Colonel Fitzwilliam placed a protective arm around his wife's shoulders. "This is too large a responsibility for you to carry alone. I will help you, Georgie."
"You will?" She turned to him delightedly. "Did I really hear you say that you will help me? You are not joshing me are you?"
"Aye, you did." He smiled ruefully. "I confess I have always hoped that Fitzwilliam and Miss Bennet would find their way back together again. It was patently obvious that they held each other in close affection that summer. I was so sure that they would come to an understanding, yet when Miss Bennet left Pemberley it all became a case of what might have been. I felt very sorry for Fitzwilliam. I had never seen such a despondent man before then."
"It was scary," Georgiana agreed.
"I suppose that after all that your brother has done for us, the least we can do is help them along a bit. I just pray that we are not wrong, and that Miss Bennet's affections for Fitzwilliam have not changed. Otherwise we might create more damage."
"I do not think they have. A woman knows these things. Our hearts are most constant. Furthermore, if Miss Bennet had had a change of heart, do you not think she would be married by now?"
"I suppose you are right," he gave his wife's shoulders an affectionate squeeze.
"This is wonderful!" Georgiana clapped. "Now that you have given me leave to go ahead with my plans and promised to help me, I should dearly love to hear your opinions. What do you think about..."
The Colonel laughed and raised his hands in protest. "My dear wife, when I said I would help you, I meant support you. I will not stand in your way, but I will also have nothing to do with the planning of the ball."
"But..."
"Ah, ah, ah... You know I have no stomach for such details. You voluntarily have taken on the task of planning the ball and you shall bear the responsibilities of such a task. I dare say Mrs. Reynolds will be more than willing to help you, but I refuse to spend my days planning out the menu, the music, and decorating scheme!"
"I suppose it is not a very manly pursuit," Georgiana pouted.
"No," her husband agreed, "It is not." He kissed the top of her head. "And that is why I am leaving it all up to you," he said gaily. "After all, if you cannot trust your wife to plan a ball, who can you trust?"
Georgiana fairly glowered at his back, watching him leave the room. It was only when she thought about his promise to help that she brightened and went back to work, planning and scheming.
An afternoon and a night turned out to be a sufficient amount of time for Colin to come to a decisive conclusion. All night long he had tossed and turned, all the while weighing the interests of his options against one another.
Ultimately, it was not a difficult decision to make. Mary had seen to that when she gave him only two options from which he could choose. He could take the lonelier path of life by rejecting the possibility of a relationship with his cousin, a person he had always regarded as an unofficial arch-rival, and in turn ruling out any possibilities of a friendship with Mary. Or, he could try another path, one that seemed much more fulfilling and meaningful. This path, however, would require him to swallow his pride, learn how to embrace his cousin as a friend, and only after he had done all that would Mary then consider welcoming him as a friend. Even to a novice, it was clear that the latter path, though uncertain, was still the preferable option. Nevertheless, Colin still had a difficult time reaching a decision.
He drummed his fingers along the bedcovers, mulling over the question. Colin had always gotten his own way. He was used to being the young master of Pemberley, always ordering others about and having them heed his words. His position had never been questioned before. Now, for the first time, someone else was handing out the orders and ultimatums, and Colin was questioning himself.
A part of Colin knew he was being irrational, but the other part of him, the part that wanted to protect him, knew no bounds. To accept Mary's challenge was to give up the small hold on life that he had struggled for so long to control. To accept Mary's challenge was to throw caution to the wind. To a person who had so little, these were very large steps, very large uncertain steps. Colin felt like he was being forced to take a gamble on life. The cards had been dealt, and now he had figure out how to use them so that he could play to win.
For as long as Colin could remember he had always harbored some sort of resentment towards his elder cousin. Dickon represented all that Colin did not have and would never have. Dickon had a mother where Colin had none. Dickon was healthy while Colin was perpetually consigned to bed. And whereas Dickon got to go to school, Colin was lucky if he could even make it out of bed in the morning. These were some things that hurt, but were also out of his hands. So, Colin was resigned to always being jealous about these matters.
What hurt Colin the most however was that Dickon had a father who not only stayed at home and watched him grow up, but also showed him his love by teaching him and doing things with him. Colin had no such relationship with his father, and it was like having a knife stabbed and wrenched in his side every time he had to witness another interplay between his cousin and uncle.
His aunt and housekeeper, who tried their best to fulfill some part of the empty mother's role in his life, were always trying to reassure him that his father loved him, but in his heart Colin could not be anything but doubtful. His father was never home, and when he was he never came to see him. What Colin did not know was that his father did visit him whenever he was at Pemberley. In fact, his father would sit with him for hours, sometimes reading to him other times holding one-sided conversations with his son. But it did not matter. What mattered to Colin was what he knew, and he could have no knowledge of his father's love when his father was too insecure to see his son during the wakeful hours of the day.
Now, Mary wanted him to be friends with Dickon, someone he had always loathed. Mary seemed certain that Dickon would welcome an opportunity to be his friend. He wondered if that was true or not. Certainly Mary had never lied to him before; in fact, Colin began to think she was the one of the few persons he could trust for she was someone who actually dared to stand up to him and meet him on equal ground. She did not cower, she fought back, and for that he had to admire her. But could he give her the power of control?
Colin sighed, knowing the question was moot. Mary had maneuvered him quite skillfully; he really had no other choice. As the dawn of a new day rose with the blazing sun far beyond the wild and barren moors of Derbyshire, Colin came to a monumental decision. He would place his trust in Mary's hands, and let her be his guide towards a new life, one that was hopefully more fulfilling than the one he had lived before.
The footman had come to heft him into his wheelchair, and now he sat at the side table staring at his porridge and bacon. Colin tapped the table idly, wondering how he should proceed now that he had decided to play by Mary's rules. He picked up a spoon and let played with the thick gruel, letting it rise and drip back into the bowl. Up, down, up, down, in and out of the bowl the porridge went.
That's when inspiration struck. He would not wait for Mary to come to him this time; he would go to her. Balancing the tray carefully on his lap, Colin wheeled himself out into the hallway. Luckily, there was a maid who happened to be walking by and he could ask her for directions. Stuttering and shocked to see the young master out of his element, and half afraid that he would scream his head off at her, she barely managed to whisper that he should turn right to find Mary's bedroom.
The trek from his room to hers was made difficult by the breakfast tray on his lap. Having to stop every so often to readjust and make sure the tray did not slip, it took him a while to reach his destination. He knocked lightly on the door, savoring the moment as he realized that this was the first time in a long time that he had paid a visit to someone and not the other way around.
"Come in," a fresh voice called out to him.
Colin managed to twist the door open wide enough to fit his chair through and found Mary also staring at her breakfast. "I have come to share my porridge with you."
Startled by the sound of Colin's voice, Mary turned to the door with her eyes wide open. "C-C-C-Colin?!? Is that you?"
Now that he was in Mary's bedroom, a spasm of doubt shot through him, and Colin hung back shyly by the door. "Are you displeased to see me?"
Mary shook off the shock and stepped forward eagerly, welcoming him. "No, no, of course not. It is just... unexpected. I thought you were Martha or one of the other servants. Come, I see you have brought your breakfast. We will eat together." Carrying his tray for him, she led him to her table.
Colin saw that her bowl was still filled to the brim as well. "I see you share my same dislike for Mrs. Reynolds's porridge."
"I'm afraid so," Mary glared at her breakfast. She looked over to his tray to commiserate and was instead shocked by the sight of crisp and golden slabs of bacon staring back at her. "Wait a minute, you get bacon for breakfast???"
It was Colin's turn to stare back at her. "Yes..." he answered, not quite sure why this should be so earth shattering.
"No fair! All I get is porridge!"
"I guess Mrs. Reynolds thinks I need more fattening up," Colin shrugged.
Mary huffed with offense. "Well, I am a growing girl too."
"Would you like to share some of my bacon?"
Mary's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Would I? Oh my goodness, how I have missed bacon! Mmm..."
The two children giggled over their bacon breakfast, and when they were done, they patted their bellies and smiled satisfied smiles. And then they looked down at the table and remembered their now-cold porridge.
"Yick, we still have porridge to finish."
"I don't suppose there is any way to get around it."
"Not a chance," Colin answered regretfully. "Cook leaves out the breakfast dishes for Mrs. Reynolds to inspect. There is no way to get around her, Mrs. Reynolds knows everything."
Mary picked up the spoon with a heavy heart. "Well, I suppose there is only one thing left for us to do." Spooning out a big gob of the distasteful, lumpy and gray-colored porridge, she grimaced and started to shovel it into her mouth. Colin's hand shot out, stalling her and causing her to drop the spoon in stunned surprise. The spoon landed in the porridge, where the gruel was so mercifully thick that none of it splashed out onto their clothes.
"What was that for?" Mary demanded.
"I have an idea," Colin's eyes twinkled with a devious plan. He picked up bowl and moved over to the window. "Do you think birds like porridge?"
Mary's eyes narrowed, trying to assess what Colin was up to. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Do you think they would like our porridge?"
Mary's eyebrows shot up. "You are going to feed the birds our porridge?"
"I think we should try to," Colin admitted.
"I don't think the birds could finish off the porridge fast enough even if they wanted to, Colin. Someone will probably be coming back to fetch my breakfast tray at any moment," she told him, trying not to put a damper on his original idea.
"Who said anything about having the birds eat out of our bowls?"
"Well how else are the birds going to eat the porridge?"
Colin turned around and smiled. "How would you like to play a game?"
"A game?"
"A game," Colin confirmed. "To see who can launch their porridge the farthest."
Mary smiled back. "I think I like this game!"
Taking her place by Colin's side, she unlocked the windowpane and pushed it open. They each took a spoonful of porridge and held it up precariously by their sides. "All right," Colin glanced over to Mary. "Ready, get set, and GO!"
Two spoonfuls of porridge flew gloriously out the window in a large and wide arc. Leaning out the window, they tried to see where the porridge would land. Unfortunately the porridge tended to blend in with the natural coloring of its surroundings and they were too high up to hear its landing splat.
"Oh well, I guess we will never know who won."
"Never mind that," Mary laughed. "Who knew throwing porridge could be so fun! What a wonderful way to get rid of this disgusting breakfast! I could kiss you for conjuring up this idea, Colin!"
Colin blushed prettily, pleased that someone could actually take delight in a suggestion of his. For the next quarter hour or so, the children toiled over the dispensing of their porridge. When they were finally finished, the put their empty bowls aside to hang out the window, breathe the fresh air, and look at the coming spring.
"Do you see the tiny buds on the trees?" Mary pointed out. Colin nodded. "In a few more weeks, they will blossom into beautiful flowers. It will be so pretty, with all those trees covered in white and pink."
Colin wrinkled his nose. "I do not like the color pink. Pink is for girls."
Mary laughed. "You will like them on flowers," she promised. "They are very pretty, a present from Mother Nature herself."
It was thus that Mrs. Reynolds found them. Walking into the room, she was surprised to be greeted by a blast of fresh air against her face. "Mary Bingley, what on earth are you doing with the windows open at..." she never finished her sentence for her eyes had lit upon Colin and been rendered speechless.
"I... I wanted some company for my breakfast, it was lonely eating alone in my room, and Mary said she did not mind."
Mrs. Reynolds pulled herself together, nodding her head briskly as though nothing were amiss. "Of course you did. And it is perfectly all right, my child. In fact, you can have breakfast with Miss Mary every morning from now on if that is what you and Miss Mary want."
"Oh, can I?" Colin's eyes glowed with the promises of such pleasure.
He looked to Mary, who shrugged her shoulders absently, "Sounds fine to me. Besides, it is so much easier to eat porridge when one has company." Mary winked boldly at Colin.
Mrs. Reynolds took note of their polished empty bowls and beamed. "I knew you would come to appreciate such a good, hearty English breakfast," she told Mary. "I will make sure that Cook gives you a little more tomorrow morning since you seem to like it so much now." Mary turned away to hide her gagging look of horror and revulsion; Colin giggled.
At the sound, Mrs. Reynolds turned to fix her stern gaze on the young boy. "You, young man, need to return to your room and get dressed. If you are going to be running out and about the house, you are going to have to start wearing something more than your nightgown and robe. Come, I will help you dress."
Colin sent Mary a searching look before following Mrs. Reynolds out the door. Mary stalled him for a moment. "Colin?"
He twisted around in his wheelchair. "Yes?"
"Does this mean that... well, you know... that you have agreed to do what we talked about yesterday?"
Colin held Mary's gaze for a while before nodding his head confidently and saying, "Yes."
Mary flashed him a most pleased grin. "Excellent! I cannot wait to tell Dickon. He will be so happy too. I shall check in on him immediately, and then we will come for you," she told him.
Colin nodded his head agreeably. Behind him, Mrs. Reynolds was doing the same. Looks like things are at long last starting to turn around for the better. Praise be, she thought happily.
As Colin and Mrs. Reynolds headed down the corridor one way, Mary flew out of her bedroom and headed down the corridor in the other way. She rapped sharply on Dickon's door and waited for the invite to come in. When it finally came, she laughed to find Dickon still staring at his bowl of porridge. "I do not know how your mother or uncle ever survived growing up with Mrs. Reynolds at the helm. They could not possibly have liked that porridge anymore than you, Colin, or I like it."
Dickon looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and said, "You know, I never thought to ask my mother about it. That is an excellent question though. I will have to remember to ask her about it. So, what brings you to my quarters at such an early hour on this fine morning?"
"It is not that early. Besides, I have already finished my breakfast... with Colin," she added.
"No, you don't say?" Dickon's attention immediately captured.
"Oh, but I do," Mary answered smugly.
"Really???"
"Really."
"So, does that mean he has finally come around?"
"I think so."
"And he does not mind being friends with me?" Dickon asked warily.
"Well... that I do not know," Mary answered truthfully. "But, when I asked him, he said he was willing to abide by what I said yesterday. So, that must mean that he is at the very least willing to try."
"I'll take that. Lord knows, 'tis better than anything else I have gotten from him. I do not know how you managed it, Mary Bingley. All my life I have tried to get my cousin to like me, to be my friend. You come here, and in only a short, few months you have the entire house turned upside down, with the master of it eating out of the palm of your hands!"
Mary laughed raucously. "Well, I do not know about the eating out of the palm of my hands bit, but I suppose Colin and I have established some sort of a rapport."
"That is some rapport, indeed."
"You know, Dickon, you were right."
Surprised that Mary would concede that he was right about anything, Dickon could not help asking, "About what?"
"Your cousin. Colin is not all that bad, once you get to know him. He just has a lot of complicated layers. I think we are going to have a lot of fun helping him through them, and helping him discover life and himself."
Dickon groaned. "You have a real penchant for projects don't you? First the garden. Now Colin. What next? And furthermore, how is it that I let you drag me into all of this?"
Mary shrugged her shoulders noncommittally. "The garden might have been my idea, but confess Dickon Fitzwilliam. Colin was yours. You are the one who told me to give him a second chance."
"So I did," Dickon sighed.
"Consider it then as each of us having a project and crossing over to help one another with the projects."
Dickon mulled over that one for a little while. "I suppose you are right. And I also suppose that since we have a new project to work on, that means we will have to forego the garden for a few days?"
The light in Mary's face diminished. "Oh, I had not thought of that."
"It will be all right. We have finished with most of the work in the garden anyways, now we are just waiting for Spring to regale us with all her charms. We might as well spend that waiting time working on Colin. Eventually, we will have to tell him about the garden."
"Do you think it would be all right to tell him?"
"If he is going to be our friend, we are going to have to trust him," Dickon said wisely. "I think he will not only be happy to be let in on our little secret, but I think he will like the garden too. I think the garden will be a good thing for Colin. It might be just the ticket to getting him out of the house."
"Why, that is perfectly brilliant! Why did I not think of that?" Mary wondered.
Dickon laughed and tapped her head playfully. "Because you have not a brilliant mind such as mine." Mary snorted her derision, letting him know exactly how she felt about that.
"Now, if only I could find a way to make my porridge magically disappear."
Mary's eyes lit up. "Ahhh... now it is my turn to show you how wrong you are. Behold my brilliant mind at work."
"You actually have an idea on how to get rid of porridge without Mrs. Reynolds being none the wiser?"
"But of course!"
Dickon leaned back and curled his lips, waiting to hear it. "Pray do enlighten me with your brilliance then."
"How would you like to play a game?"
"A game?"
"A game," Mary confirmed, smiling mischievously.
Suffice to say, Mary and Dickon spent the next quarter of an hour most agreeably engaged.
If any of the gardeners ever wondered what the mysterious brown stuff they found on the lawn was, they never did let on. They probably thought it was some sort of fungus and went about their usual ways, trying their best efforts to get rid of it before it could spread.
Georgiana looked up from the book she was reading and glanced around the room. Strategically placed candles cast a soft, romantic glow around the room. She looked smilingly at her husband who sat on the other end of the settee and thought he had never looked handsomer as he did that evening. They were sitting in the drawing room, sharing a quiet moment like they always did after the evening meal. Sometimes Georgiana worked on her sewing, other times she read a book, like tonight, but her husband always read the newspaper. The Colonel was not one to stray from old habits.
Sitting in the drawing room as they always did, there was something nonetheless nagging at Georgiana in the back of her head. She could not help but feel as though something were not right. But what? Her husband was on one end of the settee with his newspaper, she was sitting on the other end with her book. The after-meal tea had been drunk and dispensed with. As Georgiana went down the schedule of their habits, she still could not figure out what was so different about tonight. And yet, a warning persisted in pulsating in the back of her head. Georgiana's eyes stayed busy, wandering to each and every corner of the room, but it was only until she strained her ears that she noticed with stunning realization that it was too entirely quiet in the house. How unnatural, she thought.
"Richard," she called out softly.
The Colonel looked up from his week-old copy of the London Times and rubbed his wife's ankles indulgently as they lay in his lap. "Yes, dear?"
"Does something strike you as odd and unfamiliar about this evening?"
Her husband tilted his head for a moment, thinking, before answering, "Not really, why?"
"I don't know. I just feel a little odd, like something is not right. It makes me unsettled."
Colonel Fitzwilliam furrowed his brows with concern, "Are you feeling all right, my dear? Are you cold; would you like me to stoke the fire? For all that spring is coming, there is still a bit of the night's chill in the air. Perhaps we should move and sit closer to the fire."
"No, that's quite all right," Georgiana tittered, keeping her legs firmly across her husband's lap, locking him in. "I am not cold, I am feeling perfectly well. But I thank you for your concern, my love."
"Well what's wrong then?" he resumed the massaging of his wife's ankles and moved stealthily upwards.
"It's awfully quiet tonight, don't you think?"
Her husband quirked his eyebrows, "Hm. You're right. I rather like it though now that you mention it." Georgiana stared at him, and started to rise, but it was the Colonel's turn to hold her legs securely in place. "Come, my lovely wife, don't you like it? A quiet evening at home, just the two of us, wine and spirits readily available," he pointed to the sidebar.
"You forget that three children and some number of twenty and upward servants are also lurking about the house," Georgiana snorted.
"That's never bothered you before," her husband answered suggestively.
"No, but something is not right about tonight," Georgiana insisted as she shook her head and shook off her husband's distracting hands. "I cannot quite put my finger on it though and it is bothering me," she tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"I think you are unnecessarily worrying yourself to death. Don't you think you have worried enough for one day? Relax, dear."
"Nooo..." Georgiana pulled away before the Colonel could reach her again.
"Georgiana, love," he pouted, stretching out for her as she stood up to pace and think.
Georgiana slapped his hands away playfully, "Quit trying to distract me, Richard. It is not going to work."
Colonel Fitzwilliam sighed heavily and slumped back into the settee. He recognized his wife's determination and gave up. He knew she would not rest until she had her answers. The Colonel rather pitied himself at that moment. It was a perfect moment wasted.
"Oh for heaven's sakes, Richard, stop pouting like a child!" Having said the magic word, Georgiana snapped her fingers in triumph. "That's it! The children!"
"The children?" her husband repeated in confusion.
"Yes! The children!"
"You always were so forthcoming, my dear," the Colonel sighed sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately I cannot read your mind every time. So would you mind actually telling me what it is about the children that has you so fascinated and interested?"
Georgiana gave her husband a look as if to say, it is so simple, why have you not thought of it yourself.
Simple indeed, the Colonel thought, still waiting for his wife to answer his question. "I have not heard a single peep out of them all day long," she finally answered. "Isn't that odd?"
Colonel Fitzwilliam scratched the back of his neck. "Now that you mention it, I haven't either."
"Usually if Colin is not having some sort of a fit, he at the very least has a complaint, and the servants are in turn complaining about him. Meanwhile, Dickon and Mary are usually stirring up their own trouble, be it sliding across the freshly waxed ballroom floor or tracking mud on the newly mopped kitchen floor. But today, I have heard nothing and seen nothing. It has been quiet from every quarter of the house, and it was nice at the time, in retrospect, it is awfully queer."
"True," the Colonel agreed.
"Let's go check on them," they said in synchronization.
As they left the room, Georgiana could not resist saying, "See? I told you something was not right."
"Always trust those maternal instincts," the Colonel replied, hugging his wife. As he gave her a playful pinch though, it turned into a mad chase; Georgiana desperately trying to avoid her husband's lobster claws with the Colonel following menacingly from behind.
They sobered as they approached their son's room, putting on their most serious, adult, parental faces. Their efforts were wasted for Dickon's room was ominously empty. Hurrying to Mary's room, an expeditious glance around her room revealed similar results. Georgiana and the Colonel gave each other curious glances.
"Colin's room?"
By mutual agreement, they walked towards his room, and opened the doors to all the other rooms along the way. Every room proved empty, except one where a maid was busily engaged in sprucing up the furniture in preparation of Miss Bennet's imminent arrival.
"Do you think they are with Colin?" Georgiana asked.
"They must be," Colonel Fitzwilliam answered. "Where else would they be?"
"I thought that Dickon and Mary were not talking with Colin."
The Colonel stopped dead in his tracks and stared at his wife. "Good gracious, woman. Do not tell me they have taken up sides against one another? Why, that is perfectly ridiculous!"
"I know. But they have."
"Why?" The Colonel was not one to mince his words.
"I don't know," Georgiana shrugged. "They are children and their temperaments change every five seconds. Goodness knows I cannot keep up with them."
Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his head, "And you let them do this?"
Georgiana turned around and gave her husband an exasperated sigh. "What would you have me do, husband? Force them to always get along? They are children; they will do whatever they want; and they will have arguments if they want to. I cannot stop that, but I know that their anger is usually but a fleeting thing of the moment. Surely you must remember some of your own arguments from your childhood. You and your brother could not always have been friends."
"I suppose not," he frowned.
"The children grow from the experiences they encounter," Georgiana wisely foretold. "I believe in letting them sort their problems out for themselves. Supervision is required only for extreme circumstances."
The Colonel nodded from where he walked behind his wife, and deferred to her infinite wisdom. "I suppose you're right. You certainly know more about raising children than me."
"Oh my goodness!"
Georgiana's outburst alarmed her husband who rushed to catch up. Following her through the doorway, he stopped abruptly across the threshold. Husband and wife stared, and then stared a little bit more. The Colonel was the first to find his voice, "Where is Colin?"
Scrambling around the empty room, they left no corner unturned. "He's not anywhere."
"And his wheelchair is missing."
"Do you think he's actually left his bedroom?" Georgiana asked incredulously.
Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled wryly, "It would appear so, madam wife."
A horrible thought suddenly occurred to Georgiana. "You do not think someone has stolen him, do you?" she asked in a breathy whisper.
Colonel Fitzwilliam howled loudly. "That's not bloody likely! Who would want a rascal like Colin? Besides, if someone had stolen Colin, after spending five minutes in his tedious company, the kidnapper would undoubtedly return him to our doorstep."
"You need not swear in my presence," Georgiana muttered disdainfully, not at all pleased that her husband would choose to poke fun at her fears.
Walking over to the bellpull, Colonel Fitzwilliam gave it a good yank. "I am sure Mrs. Reynolds, the eyes of the house, will be able to tell us what is going on. Either the pied piper has come and led the children away or they are all hiding somewhere out of sight together."
"How very odd though," Georgiana mused. "Surely you must be right for there are no other explanations, but I did not know they were getting along so well."
"Miracles do happen; is that not what you are always saying to me."
The miracle was confirmed two minutes later when Mrs. Reynolds appeared. "The children are in the billiard room," she happily told them.
"The billiard room?" the Colonel and Georgiana asked in harmonized surprise.
"Is it not wonderful? Master Dickon is teaching Master Colin and Mistress Mary how to play. Although I am not quite sure that it is proper for Miss Mary to be learning how to play billiards."
Both Georgiana and the Colonel turned an embarrassing tinge of pink as they thought about all the times the Colonel had spent instructing his wife in the art of billiards during their honeymoon period. They still enjoyed playing a game or two in the privacy of their home when everyone else had gone off to bed.
Evading a discussion on propriety, Georgiana asked, "What happened? How did they come around to learning how to play billiards?"
Mrs. Reynolds shrugged. "'Tis what the children wanted."
"You mean, they actually voluntarily chose to spend time together and play a game?" Mrs. Reynolds nodded in answer. "So, they have decided to be friends? All of them?"
"'Tis about time! It would seem that Master Colin has seen the errors of his way and decided to try and different tack."
"But why?" Georgiana wanted to know, not that she was not pleased by this startling revelation.
The Colonel, on the other hand, was concerned with the other, more technical, details. "How can Colin reach the table to play billiards? Is he not too low for the billiard table, sitting in his wheelchair?"
Mrs. Reynolds spared him a quick glance and told him how Dickon had fetched a large book or two from the library for Colin to sit on before returning to Georgiana's more important question.
"I hope it was not the atlas," Colonel Fitzwilliam scratched his head. "Darcy's rather partial to that book, heavens only know why, and I do not think he would appreciate knowing that his son sat his bum on it for a whole evening."
Mrs. Reynolds cast him an in credulous look, as did his wife. How on earth could he be thinking of things at a time like this? The housekeeper turned away from him and focused her attentions on Georgiana, clearly the more sensible half of the couple. "Our little Mary paid a visit to Master Colin yesterday evening and had a good talk with him. May you forgive me, I confess, I stood outside the door and eavesdropped."
"You are forgiven," Georgiana quickly reassured. "What did she say to him?" eager to know what had transpired.
"Our little, mistress Mary gave him a firm tongue lashing, she did. Told him he needed to stop living the life of the dead and join the world of the living. Gave him reason to do it too. Master Colin has been jealous of all the time Miss Mary spends with your Dickon; it seems he wants to have friends as well. Well, Mistress Mary made quite certain that he understood he could have friends if he wanted them he had only to try. When Master Colin said he would be her friend but not his cousin's, asking her to essentially choose between the two of them, Mistress Mary put her foot down and gave him an ultimatum of her own. She told him in no uncertain terms that he was being ridiculous for being jealous of Master Dickon, told them they should all be friends, and then she warned him that if he was going to force her to choose between the two, she would with no question choose your son."
Georgiana gasped. "The clever thing, she did not!"
"Upon my honor I swear she did," Mrs. Reynolds smugly affirmed. "That brave Mary of ours told Master Colin exactly what he did not want to hear. She told him that if he would not be friends with Dickon, then she could not be friends with him either."
"The little minx," Colonel Fitzwilliam whistled. "She drives a hard bargain. She did not leave Colin with much choice did she?"
"No, and she knew it too. She left him to mull over it, but sure thing the first thing Master Colin asks of me this morning is to be removed to his wheelchair. I had the footman help me. We left him to take his breakfast, but when I returned an hour later, both person and tray were naught to be found. After a quick search, I found both in Mary's room. Can you imagine? The little boy who absolutely refused to leave his bed and then his room had actually wheeled himself down the hall to another part of the house all because he wanted to share his breakfast with a friend! I never thought to live to see such a miracle, and a miracle it is!" Mrs. Reynolds reverently avowed.
Georgiana clasped her hands with joy, her eyes brimming with happy tears. "This is such good news! Colin has ridden through the worst and will get better. How happy his father will be when he hears the news."
"Aye. I should write Fitzwilliam and tell him immediately. He will want to come home for sure when he hears the good news."
Georgiana did some quick mental calculations and grabbed her husband's arms, reining him in. "Not yet, Richard, not yet."
Her husband looked down at her confused. "Why not, Georgiana? Surely you would not want to be kept in the dark if it were Dickon in Colin's place?"
"No..." Georgiana hesitated, searching for the right words. "Of course not."
"So we are agreed; I will write your brother," the Colonel trying to press his point home. Georgiana, however, shook her head no.
"I must admit I am quite confused, my dear madam wife. Colin is our nephew, and in his father's absence, his guardian as well. In the interest of his welfare, and Fitzwilliam's I dare say too, should we not tell him?"
Georgiana floundered for an excuse, a reasonable explanation to give her husband. She did not dare confess the truth about why it was she wanted to wait for her brother to return. She wanted to make sure that Elizabeth Bennet was safely installed at Pemberley before she summoned her brother home. If Darcy came home now, it would ruin everything.
"Let us be sure before we write Fitzwilliam," she said instead. "Colin has such a volatile temper. For all we know, he may be back in his bed in two days with a new resolution to stay there forever. Miracles work in small increments. Let us all have some time to adjust to these new developments; then, when the time is right we will call Fitzwilliam home."
That sounded reasonable enough to the Colonel. "Well, all right then. Shall we check on the children?" Georgiana nodded her head and her husband led the way.
"I knew Miss Mary would be just the thing for our Colin," Mrs. Reynolds whispered to Georgiana. "Did I not tell you so? He needed someone like her to whip him into shape."
"I know! We have much to thank her for. She has accomplished what none of us have been able to accomplish in a short few months! 'Tis too good to be true!"
They hugged each other tightly, clasping to one another's hands, and giggled like schoolgirls all the way to the billiard room. The Colonel rolled his eyes. Women, they always had to be so emotional.
The children had left the door to the billiard room open. The light from the candlelit room now spilled into the hallway alongside their boisterous laughter. Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and Mrs. Reynolds heard their happy chattering, even before they rounded the corner. Whispering excitedly amongst themselves, they could hardly wait to reach the billiard room to see what was happening inside.
All of the sudden the talking voices inside the billiard room stopped and there was a pregnant pause. Right away, the Colonel Fitzwilliam, Georgiana, and Mrs. Reynolds ceased their whisperings as well, and unconsciously halted in their steps as they waited to hear what was happening. After a long moment had passed, the threesome heard a crack of a shot, which was followed immediately by loud whoops of joy. It sounded like Colin! Could it be? Hope growing exponentially in the pit of her stomach, Georgiana looked up at her husband with unhindered joy and delight. He hugged her back with more restrained energy, telling her in his own silent way that he understood exactly how she felt.
"Yes!" Colin cried out exuberantly.
Mary clapped her hands excitedly, jumping up and down, happy for her billiard partner, "That was an excellent shot, Colin!"
"Thank you, Mary," blushing placidly, "Now, which ball should I go for next?"
Mary thought for a moment, tilting her head left and right trying to capture all the angles in her head. Colin mimicked her gestures, trying to seek out another perfect shot.
"How about that one?" Mary finally asked, pointing to one of the remaining balls on the table.
Colin followed her extended finger. "The red one?"
"Yes." Colin nodded his head thoughtfully, considering how he would maneuver his shot to sink the ball in the pocket.
"Think you will be able to sink that one into the pocket?" Dickon, clearly the most experienced of the three, could not help asking.
"I made the last shot, didn't I?" Colin shot back defiantly.
"Of course he can make the shot," Mary huffed indignantly.
"Well, let us see you do it then," was Dickon's natural and easy response.
The Colonel, Georgiana, and Mrs. Reynolds reached the doorway just in time to see Colin wave away Mary's assistance and to wheel himself into position. He hunkered over the green table as he stared at one of the red balls in absolute concentration. Hovering in the doorway, the elders held their breaths, waiting to see if Colin would sink the ball.
Colin bit his lower lip and held his hand steady, propping the stick over it. Sliding it back and forth ever so carefully, just as his cousin had taught him, Colin put all his energy into focusing on the stick and the white and red balls before him. Once he had the balls in range, he pulled the stick all the way back before propelling it back forward again. The pointed end of the stick hit the white ball. The white ball rolled forward, along the calculated path towards the red ball. Colin, Mary, and Dickon held their breaths, as did the threesome standing in the doorway, waiting to see what would happen next. The white ball hit the red ball triumphantly, but sadly with too much force. It sent the red ball rolling in the wrong direction, bouncing into edge of the billiard table instead of landing in the pocket.
Everyone exhaled with disappointment, especially Colin. "Darn!"
Georgiana almost opened her mouth in protest, but her husband clamped his hand over her mouth and all she managed was a muffled squawk. In the end, it was her son who did the deed for her.
Walking over, Dickon placed a friendly clasp on Colin's shoulder and said, "It's all right, Colin. It's nothing to swear over." The gentle admonition was felt, and Colin looked contrite.
"I thought I had it," Colin lamented.
"It was a good shot," Dickon continued smoothly, "You just need to learn how to channel your energy. That will take years of practice, and even I have not yet mastered the skill. We will work on it together," he promised.
The Colonel beamed with silent pride to watch his son and hear his own encouraging words echoed back at him. Georgiana saw her husband silently preening behind her and shook her head ruefully.
"It was an excellent shot," Mary joined in, offering comforting words and her support lest Dickon grow frustrated and irate again. "It was certainly better than any shot I have made tonight."
"Indeed," Dickon nodded his head in agreement. "You have come along way since the beginning of the night when we started. You are a fast learner and an excellent student. In no time, you will be besting me."
Starting to blush a delightful pink from all the compliments and encouragement, Colin turned away from their scrutinizing stares and shyly returned a compliment, "I have had a good teacher."
Dickon grinned widely, accepting the compliment with grace.
"Is it my turn yet?" Mary whined with impatience.
"No. It's mine. You go after me," Dickon reminded her.
Mary pouted. "Not fair. You will sink all the balls in one fell swoop, leaving me with nothing."
"Have faith my fair friend," Dickon mocked. "I promise to leave you at least one ball to practice on."
"Then I wish you would hurry. It is tiresome having to stand here, waiting for you and Colin to play just so I may have my turn."
Dickon chuckled. "Patience is most definitely not a word I would associate with you," he tapped her affectionately on the nose as he walked past her to position himself behind the white ball.
"Nor you," Mary breathed to herself as she absently rubbed her hand against her nose, wiping away her friend's jesting touch.
The children remained oblivious of their adult audience, and Georgiana decided to indulge them by letting it stay like that. Turning away, she gestured for the others to follow. Once out of hearing range, Mrs. Reynolds immediately began to object. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam, the hour grows late. I must send the children to bed!"
Georgiana shook her head, but Mrs. Reynolds was persistent. "They need to go to bed, Mrs. Fitzwilliam. They have had a long day, though they may not know it, and should be put to bed at once. They will be tired tomorrow if they do not get their rest," she warned with her sage advice.
"Did you see them, Mrs. Reynolds?" Georgiana asked, stopping in her walk. "They are happily playing together. Colin is playing, laughing, and even learning how to lose with grace." Georgiana's eyes moistened with fondness. "I never thought I would ever see a night like tonight. I never thought to see my nephew actually enjoying a simple aspect of life such as a game of billiards."
Georgiana began to choke on her own words, overcome by her emotions, so Colonel Fitzwilliam championed her cause. "Let them play their game, Mrs. Reynolds. The children will no doubt tire by themselves soon enough and go to bed on their own. If they are still exhausted from their long night, they can sleep in tomorrow if they are still tired. I haven't the heart to ruin such a wondrous sight either."
Mrs. Reynolds nodded her head slowly, torn in half. It went against her mothering nature to allow the children to stay up even a minute past their bedtimes, but she saw the merit of Georgiana and the Colonel's words for she felt the pleasure and elation of watching the children playing harmoniously together too. She sighed, feeling the sharp tug on her emotions, "I suppose I can make a special exception for tonight. After all, these are special circumstances."
"They are," Georgiana agreed softly.
"All right. I will keep an eye on them, but I promise not interfere."
"Thank you. I know I can depend on you to take care of the children." The words, simply spoken, carried a great deal of weight with them.
Mrs. Reynolds nodded solemnly, accepting her charge. The Colonel gave her one of his special smiles and wink before taking his wife by the arm to lead her back to their bedchambers.