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Chapter 6: The Kiss
It was the height of the Christmas season, when family and friends from near and far all gathered together at Pemberley. It was always the most joyous time of the year, and the guests of the Darcys for this year's festivities were the most numerous yet.
Since his return from Rosings, Alexander Darcy found that he could not walk around the great house without stopping several times to chat with his relations, or attending to his maternal grandmother's excessive demands for attention to her "poor nerves." At times, Alexander felt that he was in Bedlam itself, although his dear mother was ever so capable in meeting everyone's needs, and his father was ever so patient and generous with all their relations. Indeed, if Mr. Darcy was on the verge of losing his holiday cheer, his beloved wife was always close at hand to restore his good spirits. More than once did Alexander detect his mother giving his father a discreet whisper, or a lingering touch on his arm. His father would smile, and all would be well again. Each evening, no matter how busy his mother would be otherwise, she never failed to play and sing at least one song for his father. It was during such moments that Alexander witnessed the incredible love and infinity that his parents shared: they would look at each other across the room so intensely that they seemed to be in a world exclusively of their own. Their quiet intimacy was so palpable that Alexander felt that he was intruding upon their privacy. His sister Lizzy was correct in her observation: their parents were like newlyweds still. One only needed to witness how Mrs. Darcy declared her love for her husband with every note of her enthralling music, and how Mr. Darcy reciprocated with such lovingly looks that seemed to draw her into his very arms . . .
On the bright and brisk morning after Christmas Day, Alexander ventured out to the woods for a solitary walk. He sorely needed to clarify his thoughts, and examine his own emotions. He still did not have any opportunity to speak to Isabella in private, although she did give him a kiss on the cheek when she wished him a "Merry Christmas" after church. He was even robbed of the chance to sit next to Isabella when they dined. His grandmother had insisted that she needed the sturdy presence of her oldest grandson close by her side so that her "poor nerves" would not suffer any further decline. However vexing she was, Alexander could do nothing but remain stoically by her side.
Constant and effusive holiday cheers could be so overwhelming, Alexander thought as he took his walk in a rather brisk pace. He knew that, in this particular aspect, he would never be able to measure up to his esteemed father.
Alexander knew the cause of Mr. Darcy's forbearance, of course - it was all done for his love of Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy - but he knew not how his father could have put up with so much nonsense with certain members of their extended families for so long.
After a long walk, Alexander came to his favourite tree near Pemberley Lake - an ancient and mighty oak tree. Indeed, the magnificent tree was formed from two trees entwined at the roots since time innumerable. A horizontal tree limb extended out, forming a natural "bench" for any passerby to sit and rest. It was upon this "bench" that Alexander sat. He leaned back against the tree trunk, and admired the serenity around him - everything was covered by a very light layer of pure white snow - such idyllic picture rendered a sense of contentment in his otherwise agitated heart.
How many of his ancestors throughout the generations had felt this way when they too sat under this ancient tree, mused Alexander. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. The wintry air was fresh, and he felt his spirits rising again.
Presently, Alexander took out a small leather portfolio from his greatcoat, and pulled off his leather gloves. With a small piece of charcoal in his hand, he proceeded to draw. With quick and bold strokes, he rendered on parchment the lovely image he held in his mind's eye.
"Hello there!" called Isabella in her clear, melodic voice.
Alexander looked up in surprise. He did not hear any approaching footsteps, and she was standing less than a yard away from him. He hastily snapped his portfolio shut.
"Oh, Isabella! Good morning!" he said courteously. "I thought you were home this morning." The Bingleys had returned to their estate after yesterday's early Christmas dinner.
"I came here with my father only a short while ago," replied Isabella as she sat down next to him. "Papa needs to seek your parents' advice on some matter of concern regarding our new steward. You know my father well - he always come over to discuss matters with your parents, even minor ones which he can very well discuss with Mama."
"Yes, it is fortunate that we are in close enough proximity for such frequent visits," observed Alexander.
"Should not a husband and wife have the complete confidence and honest trust with each other?" asked Isabella, obviously unsettled.
"I am certain that your parents share a deep trust with each other. Uncle Charles dotes on Aunt Jane constantly. Perhaps he believes it is his duty as a good husband that he should not trouble the tranquility of his dear wife, so he does not tell her everything."
"I am sure your parents do not behave in such a way!" said Isabella, failing to see the justification behind her father's behaviour.
"You are right," stated Alexander, "My parents are each other's closest confidants. They seem to prefer bringing everything out in the open, arguing with each other rather than to create any misunderstanding by maintaining stoic silence. And they have never failed to come together to talk calmly in the end. Indeed, it is their habitual preference to sit under this very tree, in perfect companionship, sometimes talking for hours. They are truly kindred spirits."
"Like us presently? We are talking very harmoniously," she grinned. "We had such a memorable conversation at the ball, and I missed talking to you since."
"James has been very attentive by your side. You hardly have the need for my company," he observed dryly, twisting his signet ring absently as he tried to think of the right words to say to her.
"James is always very considerate," she agreed. She turned her head and gave Alexander her full attention. "Throughout these years, you have never spoken more than a few words to me each time we met. You always had the demeanor of a stern elder brother - lecturing, moralizing, scolding, and . . . well, frankly, Alexander, you could be rather infuriating at times, although I always knew that you meant well."
"Then, I am heartily sorry for my overbearing behaviour."
"You were always very patient though, when you taught us different sports. I always enjoyed playing tennis with you, and my brother Henry was so grateful that you did not give up but worked so hard with him in cricket and fencing. He once told me that James would never have such patience."
"Because most things come so easily for my brother," replied Alexander. "James is one of those blessed ones who can manage most activities with ease and aplomb. Sometimes, he lacks the compassionate patience to realize that others may find the same tasks rather daunting."
"You have a very deep insight into people," she remarked thoughtfully.
"No, I speak from my own experience," he confessed. "I do not consider myself dim-witted or clumsy, but it always seems to take me just a bit longer to master any new sport or skill when James can excelled at it after a few lessons." He did not add that his confidence in himself sometimes suffered heavy setbacks when his brother, two years his junior, could easily be his equal with such little effort. One of his private fears was not only would he fail to measure up to his own father, he might also fail to match his own brother.
What Alexander Darcy failed to realize - the most crucial fact - was that James never put much time and effort to practice or learn anything. James might manage most things with ease, he never became an true expert at any endeavour. Alexander, on the other hand, had always tried so persistently hard that, by his bright and inquisitive mind, by his dedicated and methodical ways, he excelled in many areas - both in academics and sports - a true Renaissance Man in the mode of Leonardo da Vinci.
"You have surprised me exceedingly, Alexander," continued Isabella amicably. "With your stern looks and brooding silence, you sometimes seem to be decades older! Yet, you are a young man of four and twenty, and you are actually very much like James."
"Really?" He was intrigued by her assessment.
"Yes, because I can detect James's good humor and sensibilities in you as well. You only need to be more lively," she replied with a mirthful glint in her eyes. She would tease him out of his brooding nature if necessary.
"Will you teach me then?" he asked, with a light chuckle. It was very rarely that he felt so light-hearted, but her mirthful countenance was infectious.
"Gladly," she replied, smiling merrily at him. Her vivid blue eyes sparkled with such luster whenever she laughed. It reflected how she embraced life with appreciative vitality. Her manner was open and unaffected, without any feminine artifice.
Alexander, enthralled by her vivacity, felt an unfamiliar tug at his heart, and he looked away hastily. Now that they were finally alone, he must find to right words to say to her!
The awkward silence was soon broken by her clear, inquisitive voice. "So, what were you drawing when I came upon you just now?"
"Rough sketches. Nothing to signify," he answered quietly.
"Do show me! Please! I like drawing, and I can learn much from you. You have such splendid artistic talents!" she exclaimed with admiration.
"No, my talents are very meager," he said as he shook his head gravely.
"You are too modest! Your landscape paintings are excellent."
She spoke the truth, of course, because the walls of Pemberley were graced with many of his paintings. Indeed, his Christmas gift for the Bingleys was a large painting titled "A View of Venice."
Isabella had spent long hours last night studying the canvas. It was a vivid image of Piazza San Marco and its environs. His brushwork was excellent; and his eye for details was precise. Yet, there was something else about his painting that drew a viewer's attention. She wanted to use the term "romantic," but found it rather inadequate. She felt as if Alexander himself was extending a personal invitation to the viewer to join him in Venice: to explore the myriad of alleys and canals, to enter the Palazzo Ducale, San Giorgio Maggiore and other magnificent churches and admire the great masterpieces of Titian, Tintoretto and Veronese. One felt the strong inclination to join Alexander for a ride in the gondola along the Grand Canal and be serenaded with Italian love songs . . .
"Isabella! Is something amiss?"
His concerned voice jolted her out of her reverie, and she laughed, "No, I was only wool-gathering! To confess the truth, I was thinking about your painting - "A View of Venice." It is so lovely, with such splendid colours and details. Nevertheless, why do you paint only landscapes and city views? Why do you not paint portraitures of people? I find people's faces infinitely more fascinating."
"I find drawing a person's eyes - universally acknowledged as the 'window of one's soul' - a very daunting task. I have tried to emulate the Great Masters, but my works have been poor imitations indeed. Landscapes and architectural subjects are much easier to paint."
"You only need to practice more," she said encouragingly.
"Yes, as my dear parents always urge me - one must take time to practice - for the sake of constant improvement of one's mind and skills."
"Judging by your 'A View of Venice,' I can clearly see that you have spent your year abroad in Italy and France engaged in diligent studies. You have employed your time well," she declared firmly, although she arched an elegant eyebrow quizzically at him.
"Yes, I did," he confirmed sincerely. "I spent most of my time studying and drawing. In Italy, I added music to my curriculum. I did not indulge myself in the more popular pursuits other young gentlemen usually favoured."
"Namely, carousing, gaming, dallying with the fair sex, and pursing other vices," she stated rather boldly.
"Isabella!" he exclaimed, "You are too young and innocent in the ways of the world, and it is highly improper for ladies to bring up such unsavory subjects!"
"I may be an innocent, but I can hardly be unaware of the vices of men. When one is related to Aunt Lydia and Mr. George Wickham, one cannot escape knowing certain infamous tales!"
Alexander grimaced at the mention of their uncle's name. On his part, he was grateful that he only met Mr. Wickham a few times, and had not seen him for the past several years. The story of the Wickham's infamous elopement prior to their subsequent marriage was, of course, common knowledge to all. Their relations in Meryton, as well as the Rev. William Collins, had the propensity to use the story of the Wickhams, albeit in allegoric terms, when they preached to their youngsters about moral lessons against sins and shameless, wanton behaviour. The eventual marriage of the wild couple only served to pull a thin veil of respectability upon them. The lack of connubial felicity between the Wickhams was evident, as the couple drifted apart within a year of their wedding.
Alexander Darcy was one of the very few trusted confidants privy to the full history of Mr. Darcy's dealings with George Wickham. He had made the shocking discovery when he was examining the Pemberley estate ledgers. He was astounded to find so many substantial sums paid out to settle debts of gaming, drinking, and philandering. Knowing that his father had always led a life of strict probity, Alexander knew instinctively that the debts did not belong to any Darcy.
Mr. Darcy made a complete revelation to his first-born son and heir when confronted by his appeal for the truth. He spared no details: from the generous legacy of George Alexander Darcy's will, the settlement in lieu of the living at Kympton, debts resulted from Wickham's life of debauchery from Derbyshire to Meryton, Brighton, London, Newcastle, and wherever Wickham had resided. The great sum of ten thousand pounds - for Lydia Bennet's marriage settlement and Wickham's army commission - was considered by Mr. Darcy as money well spent in the preservation of the Bennet's family name and honour. Married life, however, did not improve the Wichkams' want of thrift and dissolute habits. The accumulation of debts continued throughout the years, and Mr. Darcy settled sundry debts for the couple at regular intervals, helped Wickham advanced in his career, and even granted a handsome allowance for young Frederick's education. It was very peculiar, thought Alexander, that most of those monies were deposited into Mr. Edward Gardiner's account at Baring's, and disbursed to the Wickhams.
Mr. Darcy's long and faithful narrative spared no secrets. He divulged Wickham's plot to elope with young Georgiana, and how Wickham's malicious lies had created such a villainous picture of him that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had rejected his first marriage proposal with the most vehement disdain. Mr. Darcy suffered a pang of heartache when he recollected how close he came to losing his most precious darling forever.
At the conclusion of these revelation, Mr. Darcy also exacted a promise from Alexander that such secrets should remained undisclosed to the world at large so as to avoid any unnecessary pain and embarrassment to all parties concerned. The Wickham children - Georgette and Frederick - should especially be spared the painful truth, insisted Mr. Darcy.
With such disturbing recollection coursing through his mind, Alexander was most anxious to avert any feelings of distress for his sweet cousin. He forgot that she, like others in the family, did not know half the sullied details of Mr. Wickham's life.
"Hush!" said Alexander as he implored Isabella, putting his hand upon her mouth in the gentlest touch. "Do not distress yourself by mentioning his name."
She seized hold of his hand, and smiled, "I can't tell you how glad I am that you have such concerns for my well being."
"I do, as I am concerned about all my family and kin," he acknowledged solemnly as he pulled his hand back. He could feel the warmth of her hand through her soft kid leather glove. "It is my duty and obligation."
They regarded each other silently. Isabella held his gaze steadily, the slightest smile curved upon her lips. She sensed that it was quite possible to form an affinity with this most serious of all her cousins - much like the one she shared with James - if he allowed it.
After a moment's pause, she said, "Now, may I see your drawing?"
"No, if you don't mind."
"Yes, I do mind!" she persisted. He shook his head gravely, and was about to speak again when she suddenly leaned closer to him, and seized hold of his portfolio. She opened it with a triumphant air..
The look of amazement was instantaneous upon her face when her eyes beheld the charcoal drawing.
"You have drawn a picture of me!" she stated simply.
Alexander was in total silence.
It was a rough sketch of Isabella's face, but he had captured the essence of her vivacity perfectly. Her eyes, ever so fine, were perfectly rendered, with an expression of joyful laughter and confidence in their depths.
"You said you did not draw portraits," she said quietly.
"This was," confessed Alexander, feeling rather tongue-tied, "as I informed you earlier, a practice for the improvement of my drawing skills."
"Why me?' she inquired softly, suddenly feeling shy and uncertain. She stared at her own image, and was much impressed by his artistic mastery. He had real talent.
"I . . .well, I must confess that I spent most of my time studying your lovely face rather than listening to Rev. Castleton's Christmas excellent sermon at church yesterday. Unlike many clergymen, Rev. Castleton is neither self-righteous nor pompous. He is a very good man." Isabella examined the drawing carefully, and asked, "So, you drew this from memory?"
"Yes," he murmured almost inaudibly. "The eyes," he pointed to the drawing, "were drawn from my vivid remembrance of how you looked at me whilst we danced at the anniversary ball. You are . . . an excellent model." He struggled with his suddenly befuddled mind, trying to come up with a coherent line of thought.
She persisted in wishing to know the true reason. "Why me?"
"Because I find you very fascinating," he confessed truthfully at last. He put his hand gently under her chin to lift her face to him, and studied it intensely with the appreciative eye of an artist.
"You have very fine bone structure, with such exquisite features and classical beauty. Your eyes . . . your eyes are absolutely bewitching - as blue and clear as the Aegean Sea . . . I can look into them endlessly, and be gladly lost," he said without pretense, although he did not mean to speak those last few words aloud.
"Alexander . . ." she murmured his name, in a voice so sweet and a look so tender that he held his breath, and felt his heart stopped for a precious moment before hammering so violently in his chest again. The radiant light shining from her blue eyes parted the dark storm clouds of his mind, and he felt strangely alive. He wanted to confess his mixed-up feelings all at once - perhaps she could help him sort them out - but the urge to kiss her was too great to resist.
Without further thinking, he bent his head to kiss her - tentatively and gently at first. The sugar touch of her lips were so intoxicating that he involuntarily put his arms around her slender waist, and gathered her close to him. His kiss deepened, carrying with it all the longings, fears and hopes that he had long felt, but had always held back with such iron will. She moaned softly, surprised by his action and by the ardour of his kiss. Without knowing, she put her hands around his neck, drawing him closer, and clinging on to him. They leaned into each other, and his right hand reached up to cradle her head as he continued to kiss her.
"Oh, Isabella," whispered Alexander, when he lifted his month breathlessly from hers at last. He held onto her, close against his chest. It was so wondrous to hold her thus, he thought, as if she had always belonged there, safely in his arms. The sweet fragrance in her golden hair filled his senses entirely, and he closed his eyes to savour this quiet moment of intimacy. He felt a tremor coursing through his entire being, and he knew not what to say to her after such a kiss. If only such a moment would last a lifetime, he thought wistfully.
Isabella's mind was so confused at the present moment that she knew not what to think or say. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her face was blushed with utter embarrassment, and her mind recoiled at the impropriety of letting Alexander kissed her and holding her so tightly. All her senses were overwhelmed, and she was utterly lost. Unknowingly, she clung into him even tighter, burying her face into his chest. She heaved a heavy sigh, and wondered what such a kiss would lead to. She listened to his rapid heartbeats, and knew that her own pulse easily matched his. She knew she should back away from him, but she seemed to lack the strength to do so. She stole a shy glance up at his face, and found that he had his eyes closed.
"Isabella!" came a distant but loud shout.
It took Alexander a moment to recognize the voice, and a little longer for Isabella to do the same. She broke away from him instantly, the expression on her face was one of horrified surprise. They had both leapt up from the tree branch, and when Alexander took a moment too long to release his hold on her, she twisted desperately out of his arms.
"Isabella!" repeated James urgently as he vaulted from the saddle of his galloping horse. He landed within a yard of them, and rushed up to his elder brother.
Before Alexander could gather his own wits, James had swung a hefty fist against his head, hitting him with a solid blow.
Alexander staggered, but being admirably strong, he was able to maintain his balance. He stepped back with agility, and dodged the next onslaught of blows from his furious brother. He parried and deflected his brother's determined efforts, but did not strike back. He did not know what effected James to give him such a sound beating, but as he had no cause to quarrel with him, he held back his own punches.
In the meanwhile, Mr. Darcy was not too far behind. He leapt from his own horse, and proceeded to separate his two sons.
"Stop! Stop this very instant!" he shouted his command with the full force of authority. Both sons immediately heeded his words, and drew apart. Mr. Darcy placed himself between them, and grabbed each son by the arm to keep them apart.
It was a very rare occasion that the brothers fought. When they were boys, they had indulged in brotherly wrestling as well as other antics of the rough and tumble antics worthy of vigorous boys. Fist fighting or even arguments, however, were very seldom as they had always been the best of friends.
Presently, the looks of hurt and shock were clearly on the faces of both brothers, as well as on their father's. All three men were silent, however; only the sounds of laboured breathing permeated the air.
The embarrassment for being discovered by James and Mr. Darcy was so acute that Isabella felt the most urgent need to flee from their sight. She grabbed for the reins of James's horse, and leapt into the saddle, swiftly and ably, without anyone's assistance. She took off at a full gallop, and her horsemanship was as capable as any young man's was. James and Henry had taught her well, it seemed. She ignored the impropriety of riding astride for a young lady, and was determined to make her escape as quickly as possible.
All three men stared after the unusual sight of a young lady riding thusly, but the stunned silence soon ended.
James was furious. He spun around to face his elder brother and demanded, "How dare you! You, who are so endowed with every blessing, now wants to lay a claim on what is mine?"
"Yours?" said Alexander rather bewildered, as he rubbed his throbbing temple. His muscular torso took the blunt of James's assault, but the pain was less there.
"Yes, my own Isabella!"
"Your own?"
"Yes!" shouted James.
"I have no inkling that you are pledged to each other! There is no formal engagement, no hint of pending announcement, and you have never confided in me of any particular regard for Isabella Bingley other than platonic love," protested Alexander, taking a further step back.
Mr. Darcy remained between them, in grim silence. Alexander knew his father's intention - Mr. Darcy meant to be an impartial referee in this fight, but he wanted a fight of the verbal kind only.
"You cannot be blind! You can plainly see how close we are now - much more than we ever were!" protested James.
"As I recall, James, the two of you have been inseparable since you were babes in the cradle. You are as close to her as her own twin."
"I have declared her as my darling in your presence!" insisted James.
"Ah! 'Bella, ma cherie and ma vie' as I recall," quoted Alexander in verbatim. "But you have spoken such effusive words for years in teasing jest. How should I know that you are now a suitor, and no longer a brotherly cousin? And as such, those words have taken on an entirely different meaning?"
"I had thought you a keener observer than most, and that our close brotherly bond would render many declarations unnecessary as we should know each other's mind so well," cried James with great emotions.
"In many matters perhaps, but not in all," replied Alexander patiently. "I am sorry that I have hurt your feelings, James. I never meant to. If I had known your prior claim to Isabella's affectionate heart, I would never have given her more than my brotherly respect. You must see how the situation was when I approached our cousin. At the anniversary ball, as I observed, she had welcomed the attention of numerous suitors, and had danced with each delightfully. I thought I had as much chance as the next fellow to court her."
"Well, you don't! None of the other fellows do!" exclaimed James heatedly. "Isabella desires only to dance and make social acquaintances. She may even flirt occasionally, but such flirting is of the most chaste and innocent kind. It is true that she has not given me her formal consent, but we truly adore each other."
"She has not given her formal consent for you to make your secret engagement public, or she has not even given her consent to be engaged to you?"
"You are toying with words!" charged James, the habitual laughter in his dark eyes now replaced by a look of fury.
"Perhaps, but there is a vast difference between the two statements!"
James hesitated before he answered truthfully, "The latter," he murmured very quietly, but added gravely, "You have betrayed my trust and have injured Isabella's tender heart!"
"Come now, James, " said the elder brother with a relieved smile, "be reasonable! You cannot call my honourable intention a treachery if Isabella is, in the eyes of society, unattached. She is an exceedingly fine young lady, and it is not a heinous crime to pay her my gentlemanly respect."
"So, how do you define 'honourable intention' and 'gentlemanly respect?' You have always been too aloof to allow any woman to breach that iron discipline of yours! Have you finally decided that your ivory tower is too stark and lonely, and you need some diversion? Do you intend to flirt with Isabella until you lose interest, or until you find someone else far more alluring or willing?" James knew he was being unreasonable. Like their own father, his brother led an exemplary life, with neither irreligious nor immoral habits. Alexander Darcy had never flaunted his wealth or abused his position to fulfill any selfish wants at the injury of others. Yet, the green-eyed monster of jealousy had reared its ugly head in the mind of James Darcy, and he could not prevent his assault against his brother's character.
"James!" Mr. Darcy said gravely, "Do not pursue such petty and irrational line of reasoning! It is not of your own character, and entirely unworthy in a Darcy!"
"Well, then," retorted James, "tell me now. Is Isabella Bingley the woman of your destiny? Do you intend to marry her?"
"My dear brother," replied Alexander calmly, his own rational mind still ruled over his emotions. "How can anyone have such absolute certainty in the initial stage of any courtship? If Isabella allows me to court her, then I should know her better. In the course of a courtship, sometimes it is not immediately apparent that one person may not suit the other."
"If Isabella allows you to court her?" James repeated his brother's words in a mocking voice. "Did you not leap over the niceties of initial courtship in order to take liberties with your kisses? And if her kisses do not inspire you, do you reject her then, and leave me to pick up the broken pieces of her heart?"
"James, I implore you! Please be reasonable!"
"I am, Alex! I am perfectly so! From the first moment I saw Isabella in her debut ball, I knew that I was in love with her, and that she was the one for me. Papa knew, by his own confession, that almost from the first moments of their acquaintance, he had felt such an ardent regard and esteem for our mother. So, you should already know the answer to my vital questions!"
"Then both of you are the exception rather than the rule. The rest of the poor sods, myself included, cannot make such a monumental decision of a lifetime within a few moments' time. One must consider not only one's own happiness, but the happiness of others as well!"
James was not pleased with his brother's words, however reasonable it might seem. He turned to appeal to their father for support of his cause, but Mr. Darcy shook his head grimly, and replied, "You both are so dear to my heart. I cannot take sides in this matter, especially one that would affect the happiness of so many. You must resolve this critical problem - rationally and justly - with your own heart and conscience as your guide. It is entirely between you both, and between Isabella as well. Whatever the outcome, I pray that this will not drive you apart."
Both sons were absolutely silent. They remained thus for a seemingly long time. Time was being measured entirely by their own heartbeats. Finally, the elder one spoke.
"My own heart tells me that I am very fond of Isabella, but I dearly love my only brother." He paused to meet James's fierce regard with undaunted resolve, "Aside from our parents, there is no other but you whose esteem and trust I value more, James. I am truly sorry for the transgression I unwittingly made. If I had known of your love for Isabella was beyond brotherly, I would never have come within her sphere, and would never have kissed her so boldly."
James winced at his last words, dreading the vivid images of seeing his brother's powerful arms around Isabella, kissing her with an ardour and abandonment that he had never allowed himself to - at least not until he wedded Isabella, thought James bitterly. The most painful recollection was how Isabella had clung onto Alexander, as if she was drowning, and he her saviour at sea.
Alexander saw the abject misery in his younger brother's eyes. He added thoughtfully, "I only kissed her once, I swear. She did not protest my advances - I believe it was more from shock rather than from pleasure."
"I have never taken such liberties," replied James in the barest whisper, his fists were tightly clenched. His anger was such that he could have shouted aloud across the entire Pemberley estate.
Alexander felt his own anger rising again. If his young pup of a brother had kissed Isabella properly, to show without any doubt his passionate admiration for her, he might have swept her off to the altar already! Instead, James had allowed her to receive the attentions of other suitors, and all the while, Isabella looked so irresistibly alluring. From the young lady's response, he was certain that his ardent kiss was an entirely novel experience for her, but as he recalled, she did not find it overly objectionable.
"I cannot erase the memory of the kiss," Alexander continued, "but I shall make amends. With God and our father as witnesses, I hereby promise that I shall distance myself from Isabella immediately. I shall make myself entirely disagreeable in her presence so she would lose whatever little affection she may still have for me."
"Distance yourself? You shall only make yourself even more intriguing to her!" James cried in protest.
"What do you mean?" demanded Alexander. "You are speaking in riddles! I have offer you the best resolution under these trying circumstances." He did not add that his proposed course of action would be a sacrifice to his own heart. As he spoke, he realized that his fondness for Isabella was much greater than he had confessed to. He would never have kissed her the way he did if his feelings were less.
"By fawning over her whenever you saw her these past weeks, Alex, you have attracted her interest and attention. I am like an open book to her - she knows the depth of my soul - so there is no surprises, no uncertainty or challenges for her. But you, being ever silent and brooding, represent an enigma. To an intelligent young woman with an inquisitive mind and a tender heart, you are infinitely fascinating. Her tender nature has already warmed to you - other fonder sentiments may follow suit."
"Then we shall stop such sentiments from happening - nip it at the bud, so to speak."
"No, it is too late now - far too late! A breach has been created!"
"Any breach can be repaired or healed," reasoned Alexander with forbearance. "Nothing is insurmountable!"
"No, it is too lately already," retorted James, his habitually rational mind too overwhelmed by anger and jealousy. "You have yielded too much power and caused too much havoc."
"James," implored Mr. Darcy. "Be gracious, and accept your brother's offer. I trust his promise to you regarding Isabella. His solemn word, once given, is binding."
"Come now, James," said Alexander cordially as he extended his hand.
"No more, Alex!" said James, almost shouting. "I wish to hear no more from you!"
With that parting salvo, James bolted way. He sprinted across the clearing, and was soon out of sight.
Both Mr. Darcy and Alexander stared after him in silence.
Finally, Mr. Darcy spoke. "James and I took a ride out - we were looking for Isabella."
Alexander nodded his head gravely, and replied, "I was alone, making a rough sketch when she happened upon me. I did not plan on what eventually transpired between us - it simply happened. I am very sorry, sir."
"Let James go off to calm down for now. I shall have a word with him later," said Mr. Darcy. "It was very selfless of you to make such an offer to your brother. May I be so bold to presume that you care very deeply for Isabella Bingley?"
Alexander nodded silently, unable to trust himself to speak again.
Mr. Darcy put his strong arm around his son's shoulders in a fatherly gesture to commiserate with his private pains.
Indeed, thought Mr. Darcy, Alexander must be suffering. He knew his son well enough to know that if Alexander did not care for Isabella, he would never have taken such liberties. The lingering kiss and close embrace he witnessed was no trifling matter.
"I had no inkling of James's partiality towards Isabella when you asked my advice about courtship that day. Later, your mother enlightened me on her own suspicions regarding James's feelings. I did not broach the subject with you because I noticed that you had not approached Isabella these many weeks the way you did at the Ball. I presumed that you had another young lady in mind. I was wrong. Perhaps, I should have spoken to you sooner!"
"Before I left for Rosings, Mother tried to speak to me on the same subject," Alexander replied, with a deepening frown upon his handsome face. "She was very patient with me, but I was not very forthcoming with her. She had hinted as much to me regarding James's feelings for Isabella, but I had chosen not to listen to her advice. Perhaps, I harboured the hidden fear that James felt more than brotherly affections for Isabella, and that her heart was already engaged - by James or some other suitor. Without hearing Mother out, I was selfishly ignoring such possibilities, and pursued my own wishes instead. With clear hindsight, I know now that I should have been more forthcoming and scrupulous with my concerns. Instead, I have caused such havoc!"
"Perhaps you and I can figure a way out of this quagmire," said Mr. Darcy. "I can only guess the depth of your feelings."
Alexander tried hard to find the right words. He desperately needed to talk to someone, and his father was always the best person to confide in.
"Despite of his convoluted reasoning, James is correct. He has been in love with Isabella for the past three years, and she seems to be equally fond of him. I came so late into the scheme of things - I have no right to steal Isabella away from James. Indeed, I rather suffer a lifetime of loneliness than to rob the happiness of two people whom I hold so dearly in my heart," stated Alexander in the gravest manner.
Mr. Darcy acknowledged the logic of his son's words, but it did not lessen the cost of his sacrifice.
"God forbid that you should suffer a lifetime of loneliness! It took me many years to find your dear mother. Believe me, Alexander, I suffered my fair share of loneliness and abject misery. Isabelle Bingley is a rare gem, and it may prove difficult to find her equal. But Time heals all wounds, and you must remain hopeful. In due time, I pray, you shall find your own angel."
"My own angel?" asked Alexander.
"Yes, that someone special who ignites your heart, inspires your mind, and stirs your soul - the one with whom you wish to share your life with."
Alexander was grateful for his father's understanding and words of comfort. Yet, at this very moment when all was lost, when love seemed impossible between Isabella and himself, he finally realized, with clarity and certainty, that he loved Isabella with all his heart. He had, indeed, found his own angel.
It was too late now, Alexander reminded himself. His love for Isabella Bingley would forever be in vain.
While Alexander was having his true moment of revelation, Isabella Bingley was riding full gallop towards Pemberley Hall. She was not used to riding astride - she knew how because Henry and James had secretly taught her when she was about ten, but she had never practiced much, given the great impropriety of riding thusly. The hard leather saddle was chafing her delicate skin, but she ignored the pain. The shock in her heart was tenfold greater, and she fought hard to hold back her tears.
"What have I done?" She admonished herself silently. She had not expected Alexander to kiss her as he did, but more shockingly, she had responded to his kiss by literally throwing herself closer into his embrace.
Conflicting thoughts continued to attack her mind and her conscience as she drew near to the grand courtyard of Pemberley Hall. She was in dire straits! How would she explain galloping back alone, in the most unladylike manner? She knew her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was quite disheveled after her wild gallop. She had lost her bonnet somewhere!
The sight of her aunt and her father standing next to the carriage, with the handsome grays in ready harness, provided substantial relief. She only needed to leap from the horse, throw the reins to a footman, and dash into the carriage, thought Isabella. But her hastily made plan was disrupted when her Aunt Elizabeth, ever so alert, surmised that something was amiss at her first sight of Isabella coming through the main gate.
"What is the matter?" Mrs. Darcy rushed forward to greet her niece. Isabella leaped from her mount, gave her aunt a quick hug, and ran towards the carriage without breaking her stride. As soon as she was inside the carriage, she slammed the door behind her.
"Isabella!" called out Mrs. Darcy and Mr. Bingley in unison, their voices full of concern.
Mr. Bingley came quickly into the carriage, and said, "My darling child, what is wrong? Are you ill?"
"Nothing to signify! Please, Papa, can we leave immediately? Please!"
"Not until you take proper leave of your aunt," said Mr. Bingley, his golden brows knitted together in puzzlement.
Mrs. Darcy had entered the carriage as well. She took hold of her niece's hands firmly but gently, and said, "My dear Isabella, are you ill or hurt in any way? Where is James? Your uncle? They have gone out to look for you."
The fact that Isabella had come home alone on James's horse was worrisome.
Isabella managed to find her voice, and said, "I am not hurt - merely not feeling too well. I left everyone behind - by the lake. They . . .well, I think they might be in a fight."
"In a fight? James and his father?" exclaimed Mrs. Darcy incredulously. Her dear husband could be very stern, but he had never needed to raise his voice or his hand at any of their beloved children. He always dispensed his parental discipline with stern lectures and severe looks. Corporal punishment was never used.
"No, a fight between Alexander and James," murmured Isabella. "Uncle Fitzwilliam was with them. I was rather upset by it, so I simply ran away. I am sorry if I have caused any undue alarm."
"No, no! Not at all," reassured Mrs. Darcy. "Won't you come in for a cup of tea to soothe your nerves? I am sure your uncle will sort things out, whatever the cause of such violent disagreement may be between my boys."
"If you would excuse me, Aunt Lizzy," replied Isabella, "I prefer to return home with my father immediately."
Mrs. Darcy regarded her niece thoughtfully for a moment, and gave her consent. She promised to pay Isabella a visit the next day because she suspected that her niece might have need for her company. She would need to speak with her own sister Jane after she had look into this puzzling matter.
The carriage ride of almost thirty-mile journey home to Maywood provided Isabella ample time for private reflection. Her father had sensed that she did not wish for further conversation, so he did what all doting fathers would do - he tugged her under his arm, and let her rest her weary head upon his chest. He would shield her from all the world, and he would have hummed a favourite nursery tune if she did not think it too childish.
"Life gets rather complicated when one grows up," he commented quietly, patting her head gently.
"Yes, Papa," nodded Isabella, but she did not speak again.
Mr. Bingley waited for another moment before he closed his eyes. "Take a nap, my dear. Problems are best dealt with if one is well rested."
Isabella could hardly rest. Her mind kept turning over the images of the past hour. She could remember every moment so vividly, and it was with an introspective and critical eye that she tried to unravel her own tangled emotions.
Her rational mind objected vehemently to the liberty she had allowed Alexander. She was not in love with the man, so how could she allow such a kiss?
She had taken an interest in Alexander because of James's insistence at the anniversary ball. She had always regarded Alexander as a forbiddingly aloof elder brother, so she had been pleasantly surprised to find such honesty and ease of manner when he conversed with her that night. The unusual experience prompted her to seek him out during their subsequent familial visits. Although Alexander often sat next to her, he had relapsed back to his brooding self. Indeed, they discussed more about music than any personal matters - especially after he played such exquisite Beethoven on the piano yesterday, and she had asked him for some advice regarding her own technique. When they played chess - usually games of over an hour long - Alexander would barely utter more than a few words. James, on the hand, was so full of anecdotes that she had to insist that he be more sedate!
In truth, Isabella was more interested in finding the key to solve Alexander's enigmatic nature. She never viewed him as her possible suitor! Granted, he was devastatingly handsome - more so than any other man she had met - and he had been very attentive to her. Since she was not engaged to James Darcy, and had openly informed all her suitors that she would welcome only a waltz but nothing beyond, she was free to allow Alexander Darcy to court her if she wished to. She found that she truly enjoyed his company, and she delighted in teasing him so that she could see that beautiful smile of his. Was she being flirtatious without being aware of it, and had mistakenly led him on?
Before Alexander made any declaration of his intentions, however, he blatantly ignored proper decorum, and kissed her as if they were engaged to be married! She had allowed, on rare occasions, a chaste kiss from a few of her more agreeable suitors. James had kissed her more than once, and she had enjoyed his tender kisses. Indeed, embarrassed giggles would often follow. It felt entirely agreeable when James embraced her.
Isabella was in her third Season since her coming-out ball, but until this day, she had never experienced of such an ardent kiss than the one she received from Alexander. No, she admonished herself again, not simply received, but one she had reciprocated so willingly!
Alexander had been so open in his manner, so restrained in his conduct, and so gentle when he touched her face that she had been quite enthralled by him. When he bent his head towards her, she knew she would be kissed. A fleeting protest had raced across her mind, but she allowed his tentative touch.
In that instant, when his lips brushed against hers, her senses were heightened as never before. He became the vivid center of attention as everything else faded away. As he held her so closely, she could feel the pounding of his heart despite of their thick winter clothing.. She liked his clean, masculine scent and the way his unruly thick curls felt against her fingers when she put her hands around his neck.
The novelty and indeed, the excitement of his kiss had induced Isabella to indulge in some fanciful thoughts. She might be an innocent, but she had not been entirely deaf to the whispered tales of amour from her married female relations, especially from Aunt Lydia, and from indiscreet housemaids as well. She was always too proper to indulge in any wanton thoughts, but her heart was certainly leading her in an emotional rush.
Suddenly, Isabella was struck by a horrible realization. She was behaving like her Aunt Lydia! What was she thinking? She suffered an inward shiver as she tried to put an iron grip upon her raging emotions. Good God! She was letting her passions rule over her rational mind! She was not certain of Alexander's feelings towards her either! Surely, it was not wise to guess or speculate about his heart when she herself knew not of her own!
The strangest part of it, thought Isabella, was the feeling she had when her was with Alexander. When he pulled her into his arms, it was more than passion that gripped her heart. She had felt as if she had come home to a safe haven, and she would not wish to depart from it.
Was that true love with grand passion? Or what that passionate longings without love in its purest sense?
Isabella had no ready answer. It was a great dilemma; she was treading on terra incognito.
Chapter 7
Alexander Darcy sat in meditative silence in his bath, ignoring the increasingly cold water. His faithful valet went about his various chores in the bedchamber with quiet efficiency, but ever alert if his services were needed.
"Briggs, stop fussing around like a mother hen. It is getting late, and you need not wait on me," said Alexander at last.
"Master Alexander," said Briggs placidly, "it is my duty to serve you, sir."
"Thank you, Briggs," smiled Alexander with genuine appreciation. "I may sit here for a while longer."
"You best get out before you are frozen, sir! Won't you let me run a fresh hot bath for you, sir, if you wish to brood longer still?"
"I am not brooding - I am merely thinking," replied Alexander with a deepening frown.
"Yes, sir," replied Briggs, but in such a tone which reaffirmed that he knew the young master's moods very well indeed. Master Alexander was brooding, and definitely over something mightily serious. Briggs had heard a rumour below stairs earlier, when the new stable boy came rushing in to speak to the head cook Mrs. Childers with an excited report of what he had witnessed. Mr. Henning, ever the stern and loyal butler, put an hasty stop to such idle gossip. Loyalty and genuine devotion to the entire Darcy family prompted every servant to obey Mr. Henning, and poor Johnny was sent back to the stables with a severe reprimand.
"Would you like a tray from the kitchen after your bath, sir? You missed your supper earlier," said Briggs as he stood over his master with a large towel and dressing gown. He would not budge from his post until Master Alexander came out of his bath. He had added extra logs to the blazing fire in the fireplace to warm the bedchamber, but it would not help the ice-cold bath at all!
"I appreciate this, Briggs," said Alexander as he grabbed the towel and tossed it on the floor. "I rather enjoy a cold bath now and then." He dismissed his valet with a firm wave, and added, "I am not hungry at all. Good night, Briggs."
The faithful Briggs had never seen his young master looked so troubled or spoke so abruptly to him before. He finally bowed and took leave.
Alexander Darcy berated himself with endless questions. How could he force such amourous attention upon Isabella Bingley without first declaring his honourable intentions towards her? Why did he ignore his mother's advice to tread cautiously if his feelings towards Isabella had grown beyond brotherly admiration? Before he left for his visit to Rosings, his mother had cautioned him. She had urged him to proceed with prudent care if he should wish to court a lady - any lady. She told him that she did not wish to interfere at all - not in his affairs or that of his brother James - and that she trusted his judgment. Too embarrassed to engage in such a sensitive conversation with his mother, he had hastily changed the subject.
He did try to heed her advice, and had resolved to act cautiously. He hardly spoke to Isabella when he was in her company, but when he found himself alone and in such close proximity of Isabella - her alluring presence proved too bewitching and overwhelming for him.
Alexander groaned loudly - not from the near-freezing temperature of his bath water - but from the sudden realization that he had behaved like his uncle by marriage - George Wickham! He had taken advantage of sweet Isabella's implicit trust, and had not given any consideration to her feelings when he kissed her so passionately. He never knew himself to be arrogant enough to believe Henry Bingley's assumption that many young women would swoon at his mere smiles! If an amicable and intelligent young lady took an interest to converse with someone, it did not necessarily meant that she felt anything beyond chaste friendship. Isabella's gentle teasing was neither flirtatious nor improper in any way. Why did he presume that she had reciprocal feelings of much warmer sentiments towards him? Was her behaviour not unlike his own sister Lizzy when she teased him simply to make him smile?
Alexander cursed himself furiously. Such insufferable presumptions on his part! Was his brother James justified in accusing him of being the arrogant first-born son who thought he had the first claim to everything?
He ducked his head into the ice-cold water for a moment as if to clear his head. Why did he ever ignore the clear possibility that Isabella returned James's love? All the world could see that the two cousins were always very devoted to each other, inseparable since childhood. So, was it too far-fetched to expect this handsome pair to marry each other when they reached adulthood?
He had rushed in like a mad bull in a fine china shop, and had spoiled everything! He cursed himself again, and felt envious of his younger brother. So many things came so easily for James, including the precious gift of love!
Love!
Alexander Darcy had grown up in the very bosom of extraordinary parental love. His parents shared such an incredible love and friendship - their unique passion for each other could only be guessed at - but one could sense its vibrancy even if standing at a polite distance. Alexander often wondered what it was like to love and be loved so truly and completely by the woman of his heart. He leaned back and closed his eyes - savouring those precious few moments he shared with Isabella Bingley - moments which would last a lifetime in his heart. He could still taste her sweet lips upon his own, her silky golden hair against his cheek, her slender figure with its alluring contours . . .
"Enough!" Alexander shouted aloud, and uttered another curse at himself. With firm resolution, he scrubbed his face vigorously with soap and water, as if to wash the lingering scent of Isabella off himself. He must not demean Isabella in any way with such vivid remembrances! He must not allow himself to take such liberty and indulge in such fantasy. He had given his brother his solemn oath, and he would live up to it. If Isabella was to be his sister-in-law someday, he must regard her with chaste thoughts and strictly honourably sentiments! She might be the brightest star in his heaven, but she was now beyond his reach - he would only allow himself to admire her at the safest distance!
Alexander finally got out of his bath, and found himself shivering violently. He grabbed the thick towel, stepped over to the blazing fireplace, and blessed Briggs for being so thoughtful. He then poured himself a large goblet of cognac, and drank it in a few gulps. He rarely drank, but he felt that it was excusable for such a dreadful day.
One of his favourite Poor Richard's proverbs came into mind as he fell into his bed exhausted: "Women and Drink, Game and Deceit, Makes Wealth Small, and Needs Great."
Alexander Darcy had never squandered his father's wealth on women, drink, or dice - there was very little that he craved in the disciplined life he maintained. He had always prided himself of having such good regulation, of making it his study of life to avoid those weaknesses which often exposed a strong understanding to ridicule, and to abstain from vices that drained away one's honour and character so insipidly.
It was with mercy that sleep finally overcame him, and allowed his mind to be freed of the torturous tumult which had gripped him for so long. He had tried so hard to emulate the exemplary life his own father led. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy had been so richly and deservedly rewarded for his sterling character, but his son Alexander felt so wretchedly poor. At that moment, the humblest tenant farmer at Pemberley - home with his own wife and children - was a far wealthier and happier man than the heir of Pemberley.
Chapter 8
Whilst their first-born son laboured under such emotional guilt and tortured thoughts, Mrs. Darcy finally had the chance to question her husband about the events of the day. She rushed up to him the moment he strolled into her bedchamber.
"My dearest Will! You must not spare any details," she implored. "I saw Isabella - coming back on James's horse and being in such distress! I tried to question Alexander when he returned home, but he bolted away to his room with barely a word. You had James in your study for ages! It was fortunate that Mama, Lydia and her family had left for Longbourn moments before Isabella's sudden appearance. I dread to imagine their wild speculations otherwise!"
Mr. Darcy nodded thoughtfully as he took his wife's hand gently and led her to the sofa. "We best make ourselves comfortable, my love. This may prove to be our longest talk yet!"
The grim look on Mr. Darcy's face confirmed her worst fears - their two sons were in love with the same woman, and they had come to blows over her.
With deliberate care, Mr. Darcy gave a faithful narrative to his wife - giving full details and conversations in verbatim. Mrs. Darcy listened without interruption, and her mood became as grim as his.
"Perhaps we should have intervened earlier," remarked Mrs. Darcy at last.
"Perhaps," nodded Mr. Darcy, "but I have serious doubts if we could have prevented what did transpire today. I saw the look in Alexander's eyes. If his feelings for Isabella are half of how I felt about you when I proposed at Hunsford - our son is suffering the worst heartache!"
"Alexander truly loves Isabella?" said Mrs. Darcy. It was more a statement rather than a question.
"Yes, he does," replied Mr. Darcy, "although I think he did not realize it until today."
"Until he kissed her," added Mrs. Darcy quietly. She nestled closer to her husband, more for comfort than warmth. He responded by hugging her to him, and bestowed tender kisses upon her lovely brow.
"Alexander should have restrained himself - to admire Isabella's fine eyes at a safe distance - and should have made his proper declarations before making such a bold move!"
"Not everyone has your iron will, my darling," smiled Mrs. Darcy fondly as she traced the outline of his strong mouth. "Two marriage proposals before I received a single kiss from you! Even after I accepted you the second time, you did not sweep me instantly into your arms!"
"We were on the public road to Meryton!" protested Mr. Darcy mildly. "I did kiss you later - near the tall hedgerows - out of the sight of prying eyes."
Such fond remembrances momentarily distracted both of them from the serious problem at hand. Their lips met in an ardent kiss, reminiscent of their first kiss. Mr. Darcy moaned softly as he gathered his wife closer into his arms.
"My own Lizzy!" he murmured. "Do you know how exceedingly bewitching you are, that you still take my breath away? After two and a half decades of sharing the closest intimacy, my old heart still hammers so violently at the very sight of you!"
Mrs. Darcy returned her husband's kisses with equal feelings, and whispered, "My darling Will! I love you more than words can ever tell. You are too good for me!"
Mr. Darcy chuckled softly, and shook his head. "No, Lizzy, I am the lucky one. Without you, I am lost! You are the essence of my being. I take every breath with thoughts of you in my heart. I love you so dearly!"
"As I love you," replied Mrs. Darcy as she ran her hand caressingly through his hair - still thick and unruly. She rested her cheek against his, and sighed. "How do we solve this quagmire?" she asked as she reluctantly forced their wandering attention back to the current crisis. "Where do we find another young lady equal to Isabella Bingley in grace, intelligence, and goodness of heart for our unfortunate son?"
"I know of only two other such accomplished young ladies," remarked Mr. Darcy dryly, "but they are our own daughters."
"Will! Please be serious!" admonished Mrs. Darcy.
"I am in total earnest, Lizzy!" replied Mr. Darcy. "I am merely pointing out how difficult it is to find someone who will best suit Alexander. I am not favouring one son over the other. I am making my objective observations based solely on my understanding of the nature and temperament of our sons. James has a lot of you in him, and I can readily think of several agreeable young women who would suit James well. Alexander is truly like me in every aspect - it would take an extraordinary young woman with a generous heart and patient understanding to comprehend our son's quiet brooding nature."
"If Alexander's heart is already attached to Isabella, then looking for someone else is futile," said Mrs. Darcy. "If our son is like you in every aspect - then once he gives his heart, he will be forever devoted!"
"You speak the truth, Lizzy," agreed Mr. Darcy. "Nothing altered the way I felt about you - the vehement way you turned me down at Hunsford, being Wickham's brother-in-law, my Aunt Catherine's wrath - none of those reasons, or anything else in the world could sway me from loving you."
"Not even when I did not return your love at first?" asked Mrs. Darcy, feeling the guilt of ever hurting her beloved Fitzwilliam so severely with her willful prejudices and her blind trust in George Wickham's lying words.
"Oh, Lizzy! I have taken your advice and have chosen not to have a good memory in such cases! I have quite forgotten that you did not always love me as you do now!" Mr. Darcy laughed as he gave her another kiss.
"Perhaps," Mrs. Darcy said after a long moment, "perhaps Alexander is more enthralled by the feeling of being in love than by the young lady herself?"
"A point well taken," nodded Mr. Darcy, "but I stand by my original assessment regarding Alexander. It is James's state of mind that I am very worried about."
"What do you mean?"
"I must confess that I am rather disappointed in James. He refused to see Reason, and ranted endlessly against his brother throughout our long talk."
"But it was a severe shock for James to see his brother kissing Isabella. You were quite stunned yourself, weren't you?"
"Yes, I was. I also think the two who were kissing were equally surprised by their own actions," remarked Mr. Darcy. "My grievous point with James is his rather childish behaviour. If James truly loves Isabella the way he claims, then he needs to ride over to Maywood to comfort her and to declare his endless devotion. Instead, he is home, sulking and brooding over his own hurt feelings."
"Are you being a bit harsh on James?" observed Mrs. Darcy.
"Perhaps I am. But Alexander has offered his sincerest apology, and has given a noble pledge. James should forgive his brother."
"I am sure he will," said Mrs. Darcy. "Our sons are treading upon previously uncharted territory - they have never been rivals in such a serious matter! But, my darling, we have not considered the most important aspect of this entanglement! Which one of our sons does Isabella Bingley love? We can speculate all we wish, or propose different resolutions, but it does not matter a whit because Isabella is the one who has to decide! It does not matter if Alexander has given his pledge or if James has insisted that he has prior claim to Isabella's heart! She is the one who must choose!"
"You are absolutely right, Lizzy," agreed Mr. Darcy. "Isabella has to decide. That might even be an off chance that she is in love with someone else entirely!"
"I have promised Isabella a visit tomorrow. Perhaps I shall be able to gain some insights into her heart. I must also have a talk with my sister Jane."
"Speak with Jane and Bingley if you wish, but I think it is wise for all of us to stay clear from any interference," said Mr. Darcy after a long moment of reflection. "Isabella is an exceedingly prudent young lady. She will know her own will. We must allow her to come to grips with her true feelings on her own."
"We might be in for a long suspense," concluded Mrs. Darcy. "It took me many months to appreciate your true merits!"
"Then, we best say our prayers," smiled Mr. Darcy.
Mrs. Darcy nodded her head sleepily as she tried to remain alert for their long discussion. The accumulated fatigue and worries of the Christmas season had finally caught up with her.
Mr. Darcy saw her exhaustion clearly. He reached over to caress her face tenderly before he swept her up effortlessly into his arms, and carried her to bed.
"Sweet dreams, my darling Lizzy," he whispered against her ear as he stroke her silky dark hair.
Mrs. Darcy was almost asleep. She responded by whispering, "I love you, Will," as she snuggled closer to him. She buried her nose against his neck, and sighed contently.
Mr. Darcy, in turn, marveled yet again at the snug way they fit into each other's arms. He fought back his own sleepiness for a while longer because he wished to savour such splendid moments of quiet contentment. If the truth be told, Fitzwilliam Darcy still could not believe it possible that he had such a precious treasure as his wife. As he said his nightly prayers, he added a special one for his children - that they too would find equal bliss in their own lives.
Chapter 9: Serious Talks
The conflict between the Darcy brothers remained unresolved. James Darcy remained in a foul mood, and spent most of his time sulking in the library. Alexander Darcy was his customary brooding self, and kept busy with estate matters. Although no one spoke of it openly, their sisters Jane and Lizzy were aware of the sudden rivalry between their brothers. Lizzy, in particular, deduced the truth with her keen observation and logical mind. She loved both of her brothers equally, but she secretly rooted for Alexander. She longed to speak to Isabella Bingley - they were such dear friends - but she knew that she should refrain from being a meddlesome creature.
A general air of unease permeated the habitually harmonious household. If Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy were suffering from worries over Isabella and their two sons, their problems were further compounded when Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and her children returned to Pemberley the morning after their initial departure! It seemed that Mrs. Bennet had suffered minor stomach aliment at the first carriage stop, and insisted that she was too ill to continue the long journey back to Hertfordshire. A hasty return to Pemberley was made, and the Darcys found themselves playing hosts again.
In the interim, Mrs. Darcy had paid a visit to Maywood. She spoke first to Isabella, trying to comfort her as well as giving her some advice. Isabella, however, had been too over-wrought with conflicting emotions to listen attentively to her aunt, although she did cry for quite a long time in her loving arms. Isabella had never been one of overly sentimental or excitable nature, but once her tears started, those tears became quite a deluge. Nothing much came out of this special interview, except that it confirmed in Mrs. Darcy's mind that her niece was blameless in this love triangle.
Mrs. Darcy also brought the matter to the attention of Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. A long conference ensured, out of their love and concern for the three young people involved.
"The situation is utterly dreadful," exclaimed Mr. Bingley, when he heard the full narration from Mrs. Darcy. He looked at his wife anxiously, because he was as concerned about upsetting the tranquility of his beloved Jane as he was worried about the happiness of their daughter Isabella.
"Oh, Lizzy, what should we do?" said Mrs. Bingley in extreme stress. "Both of your sons are such fine young men! My darling Bella has the most difficult decision to make!"
"It is not so difficult if she knows her own heart - she simply chooses the man she loves most," remarked Mrs. Darcy after a long pause. "My dear Jane, Isabella may be in love with someone else entirely! She has many charming suitors!"
"A possibility," conceded Mr. Bingley with a deep frown. It was entirely unusual to see his jovial countenance marred by a worried look. "There are a lot of fine and agreeable young men in Society, but none quite equal to your sons in substance of character."
"Character - yes, that is of the greatest importance," agreed Mrs. Bingley and Mrs. Darcy in unison.
"We should let Alexander and James to have a separate and private interview with Isabella - as soon as we can arrange it - so that they can each plead their own suit," suggested Mr. Bingley. "I can understand James's jealousy. It is very difficult to compete with one's older brother - especially one so endowed with excellent qualities."
"I am afraid that Alexander has already withdrew from the field of courtship," stated Mrs. Darcy.
"Then Darcy's advice is the best after all - we should not interfere, but let Isabella choose. Young people nowadays can always contrive to seek their own interviews if they so inclined. They do not really need us to intervene," said Mr. Bingley with a smile.
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Bingley with a hopeful nod, her tender nature always preferred to seek the brighter side of things. "And I am sure a reconciliation between the three of them will be forthcoming soon."
Mrs. Darcy, however, believed that matters were far more complicated than they seemed, and that Alexander's resolve to leave the field clear for James might not be enough to bring a reconciliation between all parties involved. Seeing the deep anxiety upon her elder sister's face, however, made Mrs. Darcy refrained from voicing any additional worries. The sisters embraced, and talked of other matters. Mr. Bingley was ever so glad that his beloved Jane had her cherished sister living in close enough proximity to render such frequent visits.
As soon as Mrs. Darcy returned to Pemberley, she endeavored to speak to her two sons individually to ascertain for herself their current state of mind. James was determined to remain silently unapproachable during their talk, although he refrained from ranting against his elder brother in his mother's presence.
Mrs. Darcy found Alexander in a melancholy mood of resignation. She was, however, able to engage him in a small measure of conversation.
"Dear heart, I spoke to Isabella yesterday. . ."
"Mother," interrupted Alexander gravely, "I do not wish to know the content of your conversation. I have made my solemn pledge to James, and I shall honour it regardless of circumstances."
"So you and James have decided on your own? As if this is the law of the jungle - two young lions fighting it over - the vanquished one retreating in favour of the victor to claim the prize? Have you no consideration for Isabella's feelings?"
"I have the greatest consideration for Isabella's feelings," replied Alexander rather heatedly. He swallowed a deep breath, not wanting to lose his temper with his beloved mother. "Her happiness of paramount importance. She is particularly engaged to James. It is only right and proper that I quit the field."
"You cannot deduce Isabella's heart and mind solely from the testimony of your brother. James cannot be entirely unbiased!"
"Mother, until Isabella rejects James unequivocally, I cannot plead my own suit. James has been in love with Isabella for three years, and has been courting her for as long. I only took notice of her at your anniversary ball."
"She has yet to accept James," pointed out Mrs. Darcy with a patient smile.
"But she has not rejected him either," remarked Alexander.
"Under such circumstances, I think it is permissible for you to make a declaration of your intent so that Isabella can choose with clarity of mind. She has many suitors other than your brother James, my dear heart."
"If my brother was not amongst Isabella's suitors, I should gallop over to Maywood this instant to make such a declaration. However, the fact remains that James loves Isabella. James feels that . . . well . . . that I have significant advantages over him in certain aspects. I shall not further jeopardize my brother's chances in winning Isabella's heart by being one of her suitors."
"Alexander . . ." said Mrs. Darcy, determined to find a resolution to this dilemma.
"No, Mother," interrupted Alexander with a sad shake of his head, "I fear that we must speak no more of this matter."
"Being determined is an admirable quality, my son, but being overly stubborn can bring adverse results in certain situations."
"Mother, I have already resigned myself to be Isabella's brother. Thank you for worrying over me as you do." He bowed to take leave, but stopped himself. Instead, he leaned down to kiss her cheek tenderly, and said simply, "I love you, Mama."
Mrs. Darcy took notice of his boyhood salutation of her. Her tender heart ached for her son. He always looked so serious - such striking resemblance to his dear father - yet he was a young man of barely four and twenty. He should not look like he carried the burdens of the entire family on his broad shoulders.
"I love you too, dear heart," replied Mrs. Darcy with a tearful smile. "As do your father."
"Lizzy!" came Mrs. Bennet's shrill call for her daughter. Mother and son were thus interrupted, and they did not have any further chance of private conversation.
Another large family gathering was held at Pemberley - this time to celebrate the New Year of 1838. Much jubilation ensured, with every expectation of hope and happiness for all in the dawning of the Victorian age.
One day into the New Year, the families were greeted by the best of news. Glowing with love, Margaret Bingley and Anthony Knightley announced their engagement, and their plans for a wedding in the spring. Anthony Knightley had journeyed to Maywood to ask for Margaret's hand in marriage, and the Bingleys had given him their immediate approval.
"A wedding in May!" gushed Georgette Wickham. A pretty twenty-one year old, Georgette's demeanor was more agreeable and less selfish than Mrs. Wickham's, but it made her no less susceptible to the vain pursuit of handsome officers in regimentals.
"Will you marry at Maywood or in Town?" inquired her elder brother Frederick. At three and twenty, Frederick Wickham was his father's son in every way, except for his more scrupulous nature. Growing up in a household of doting and frivolous females, without the strong influence of a good father - George Wickham was home so infrequently that Lydia had moved back to Longbourn when Georgette was still an infant - Frederick was the center of attention. He was aware of his handsome looks and natural charms, and used them to his own advantage. Whenever he visited the Darcys, however, - at Pemberley and in London - he felt utterly out of place. Therefore, young Wickham had always endeavored to put on his best manners, and to curb his willful temper.
"We suggested a wedding in Town," replied Mrs. Bingley with the brightest smile of approval.
"Most of Anthony's family and relations are in London and Surrey," added Mr. Bingley.
"Not to mention his legions of admirers," exclaimed Margaret, gazing up at her fiancé with pride.
"You exaggerate, my sweet," smiled Anthony Knightley at his lovely Margaret, "it is you who have legions of admirers amongst the ton." Of average height and stocky built, Anthony Knightley was an agreeable young man with the sensible mind and gracious manners of his parents. At nine and twenty, he was already a renowned barrister, and was a rising star in Parliament. His progressive ideas, backed by sound principles, were expounded with such oratorical skills that his speeches at Parliament always caused quite a stir.
His words of endearment caused Kitty's two sons - a couple of gangly youths named Peter and Paul - to snicker with rude laughter. Their father Rev. Castleton shot them such a stern look that it silenced them instantly.
"Oh, dear Lord!" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. "My dearest Jane, we must go to London at once - after I go to Meryton to spread the wonderful news, of course! Oh, I must send an express rider to Mary!"
"Yes, Mama," replied Mrs. Bingley with her unfailing sweetness.
"It has been such a long time since we had a wedding in our family - fifteen years since Mary married Mr. Witter," continued Mrs. Bennet. "Oh, my darling Margaret, your own mother was also three and twenty when she married. Oh, Jane was the most beautiful bride, and so was my dearest Lizzy! Meryton had never seen such a fine double wedding! Dear Lord! The jewels, the silks, the linens, the fine china, the carriages . . . My dear Mr. Knightley, do you have a house in Town? The Crescent at Regent's Park? It is a very fashionable address, indeed, but is your townhouse airy and large enough for our dearest Margaret? Where should we host the wedding breakfast?"
Mrs. Bennet grew so agitated with her questions that she required her smelling salts. Her attacks of vapours and poor nerves had become more frequent after the passing of her husband some years ago.
"Thank you, my dear Alexander," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Alexander had foreseen such an occasion, and he had stood by her attentively. He was willing to bear the burden of his aged grandmother's irksome demands so that the rest of his relations could enjoy themselves.
Mrs. Bennet gazed up at her oldest grandchild with effusive pride, "Alexander, you are always so kind, so considerate, and so generous - like your dear, dear father. He is the most agreeable and noble man in Derbyshire, I always say. All your younger cousins - Henry, Freddie, and especially the two young rascals Peter and Paul, should follow your gentlemanly example!"
If Mr. Darcy had rolled his eyes at his mother-in-law's words, his oldest son missed seeing it. Alexander acknowledged his grandmother with a solemn nod, but his attention was arrested by his Aunt Lydia's sudden proclamations.
"Oh, do not wait months for the wedding! I should elope immediately if I were you! La! It is so romantic! I hear that the winter is very mild in Greece - you can walk amongst the ruins and read Lord Byron's poems. I should like to go sea-bathing there myself!"
"Lydia!" exclaimed her sisters Jane, Elizabeth and Kitty in unison.
"An elopement is not so shocking," retorted Lydia. "People should be allow to do as they wish! I remember what jolly good fun it was when Wickham and I . . ."
Alexander coughed very loudly to interrupt his aunt's most imprudent comments. Peter and Paul Castleton tried hard to stifle their delirious laughter, but everyone else in the drawing room suffered silent embarrassment.
The Knightleys were close family friends for many years - Mr. John Knightley was Mr. Darcy's school chum at Cambridge and Alexander himself shared a close friendship with Anthony - but the Knightleys did not know all the skeletons in their family closet yet! Alexander felt that Anthony should not be subjected to such a shock yet. Time enough for Margaret Bingley to take her fiancé by the hand and ask for his patient forbearance as she explained all.
"It is still a scandalous act, Lydia," said Kitty. When she was much younger and foolish like Lydia, she had not thought it so bad. However, the former Kitty Bennet, now the wife of Reverend John Castleton, had repressed all her former silliness, and had become a model of proper decorum.
Mrs. Darcy also added, "Indeed! An elopement is most improper for a young MP and our dear niece."
"Oh, Lizzy! You are far too proper all the time," complained Lydia. "Too much decorum provides no excitement in one's life. You must let me plan more entertainment for you this Season in London! Perhaps a fancy Masquerade Ball? It is exceedingly exciting to flirt when one is wearing a mask or some kind of disguise!"
"I thank you, Lydia, but I do not wish to experience whatever excitement you may have in mind. My life is exciting enough with my own husband and children."
"La! Do what you may!" Lydia eyed her elder sister with a look of dissatisfaction. It irritated her to no end, knowing that both Lizzy and Jane had married men of substance in every aspect whilst her own husband George Wickham had only his handsome appearance to recommend himself. It irked Lydia that even Kitty and Mary managed to secure respectable men as husband. Both Rev. Castleton and Mr. Witter were rather plain and dull men, without much talent or distinction, thought Lydia, but they always stayed close to home and hearth. These past several years, she rarely saw Wickham's face - only on occasions when his entreaties for funds were so urgent that he had to appear in person instead of sending an express rider to Longbourn. It was fortunate that her Uncle Edward Gardiner had given such a handsome sum for her marriage settlement when she married Wickham, mused Lydia, from which she allowed to draw an annuity to support her children. Her own father provided such a paltry dowry, his entire estate of Longbourn being entailed to their odious cousin Mr. Collins.
Everyone present was caught in the awkward moment created by Lydia's thoughtless outburst. Frederick Wickham jumped into the fray with his most charming smile, and said to his cousin Margaret, "Do tell you of your wedding plans. How many guests . . ."
In an instant, many voices joined the animated discussion. Alexander Darcy took half a step back, and stole a glance at his own father. He noted the stoic look on his father's handsome face, and realized that his father was determined to be civil and patient.
Mrs. Darcy, however, could feel the tension beneath her husband's placid look. She tried her best to shield him, and her husband acknowledged her kind consideration with a discreet caress of her hand. Mr. Darcy had found, throughout these years, that he only needed to fix his attention upon his wife, and he could face the most trying circumstances. She was, indeed, his most steadfast ally and the essence of his happiness.
The talk of the wedding continued unabated for the duration. The men took their leave as soon as it was polite to do so, leaving the women to attend to such domestic matters.
"Don't worry, Anthony," said Mr. Darcy with a fatherly smile. "Everything shall be planned to the most minute detail. You are only required to be punctual, sober and sincere on your wedding day. My niece is a treasure - you shall have a lifetime of happiness together. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, sir!" smiled Anthony as he shook hands with Mr. Darcy. Their mutual esteem was forged by years of close friendship between the families.
The gentlemen retired to the library, for a glass of sherry and a leisurely conversation on matters other than silks and laces. Freddie, Peter and Paul, however, preferred a game of billiards, and set off for the billiards room.
Isabella Bingley managed to slip away from the drawing room unnoticed. She desperately needed to talk to James and Alexander. After that most embarrassing day, she had not spoken to either Darcy brother since.
Isabella appreciated her Aunt Elizabeth's concern during her special visit. She had always found it easier to speak her mind openly with Aunt Elizabeth than with her own mother. Mrs. Bingley's mind was entirely focused on her husband, family, and all domestic matters. Mrs. Darcy, on the other hand, understood the dreams and aspirations of bright young women whose intelligent minds thought of matters other than handsome suitors and matrimony. It was true that their talk this time did not amount to much - other than Isabella having a good cry - but Aunt Elizabeth supported her view that she should not worry about going into a Fourth Season without securing an engagement. No one should rush into holy matrimony, advised Mrs. Darcy, for she herself did not consent to marry until she found the deepest love. The Bingleys dispensed advice to their own daughter as well. Isabella could discern subtle preferences each of her parents had for the Darcy boys. It was not overly surprising, thought Isabella bemusedly, to realize that her mother preferred James, and that her father seemed to like Alexander more!
Isabella had hoped that no one else would know of her kiss with Alexander. She knew that her Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Fitzwilliam were the souls of discretion, that Alexander would speak to no one else, and James would confide only to Henry Bingley. Therefore, Isabella was horrified to discover, from her own abigail Lucy, that the fight between James and Alexander was common knowledge amongst the servants, even though her own family and her many relatives remained ignorant of the rift between the brothers.
It seemed that a stable boy had witnessed the fight from a distance. His faithful narrative to his fellow servants at Pemberley, and later at Maywood, had set the servants of the two households abuzz with whispered comments and rumoured presumptions. The Pemberley staff was loyal and discreet to the last servant, but the Maywood staff was certain that such a rare confrontation between two devoted brothers must be a fight over Miss Isabella! Everyone at Maywood was taking sides, and even laying odds as to the eventual outcome - with Master James as the favourite.
Isabella's mind was preoccupied with such reflections as she went in search of both James and Alexander. She caught sight of her cousins going into the billiard room, but James and her own twin Henry were not amongst the party. As she turned towards the grand foyer, she saw them leaving through the front door. She hurried to join them outside.
Both men were engaged in earnest conversation, but they turned expectantly at her approach. Henry gave her an encouraging smile whilst James stood rigidly, in obvious discomfort.
"James, we need to talk," she said directly, without any feminine artifice.
Henry smiled again, giving both of them an affectionate pat on the back. "Time for me to join the billiard game! Be civic to each other now!"
Isabella looked at James quizzically as Henry went away.
"I have confided fully in your brother - you know that I have no secrets from him," said James solemnly. It was quite obvious that he was still angry.
"I am very sorry. . . about the other day," she said softly, putting a tentative hand on his arm.
"Sorry? Sorry that I came upon you and Alex at such an inopportune time?" James muttered in quiet fury as he brushed her hand away. He knew he was being childish and unreasonable, but he was too upset to care. He had been brooding for so long that he had descended into the deepest doldrums.
"No!" protested Isabella, her vivid blue eyes threatening to tear up.
"Is my brother the main reason why you have been unable to answer my rather persistent and frequent marriage proposals?" demanded James in a furious whisper. He was clenching his fists, as if he would hit Alexander again if he saw him in the vicinity.
"No, it is not true!" cried Isabella, resisting a strong urge to slap James for his insolence. But she resisted because she wanted to make her reconciliation with him, and it was not prudent to escalate the current situation.
"Did you not seek him out on purpose that day? Everyone else was indoors - Alex was the only one taking a walk. My father and I had to look for you when your father was ready to return home to Maywood. You were nowhere to be found!"
"I needed some fresh air - Grandmama and Aunt Lydia were rather vexing and tiresome. Please, James, be reasonable! I came upon Alexander by chance. He was drawing a picture, and I sat down to chat with him about art. It was very pleasant and friendly until he kissed me. I neither expected nor invited his kiss, I swear! It simply happened!"
"I did not see you fighting him off. I know you can throw a decent punch because I have taught you myself! Perhaps you did not invite his kiss, but you surely looked as if you enjoyed it very much! I have wondered many times since - what might have happened if my father and I did not come upon you both when we did! Would such a kiss have ended with a marriage proposal from my exulted brother? He is a far superior catch than I am, to be certain. I suppose even you might not have resisted such an attractive prospect!"
Isabella's slap came fast and furious upon James's face.
"How dare you, James Darcy!" She was both insulted and shocked by his insinuating words.
To her and to the world, James was always generous and jovial. He could be serious-minded and determined when he needed to be, but he was always gracious and amicable. She had never seen him behaved like this before - unreasonable, uncompromising, and full of hurtful anger. It was a side of him that she never knew existed.
James did not look overly surprised by her vehement reaction. He knew that he had provoked her to slap him. He wanted so desperately to hear her denouement of his brother, and perhaps, her declaration of love for him. He did not get either results, but earned a stinging slap and Isabella's wrath instead. He stalked away wordlessly, leaving Isabella behind to stare after him.
Isabella barely had time to recover from her outburst with James when Alexander Darcy came strolling down the side stairs from the far side of the mansion. He was whistling a familiar tune - one that Isabella recognized immediately. It was her Uncle Fitzwilliam's favourite aria: "Voi Che Sapete." Her Aunt Elizabeth had played it for him during her very first visit to Pemberley when she came with the Gardiners that fateful summer of 1812, and the aria had remained their permanent favourite. It seemed rather odd for such a blissful couple to enjoy the melancholy lyrics of "Voi Che Sapete," but seen in a prudential light, one could appreciate the significance.
Isabella could readily recall some of the lyrics:
My heart overladen, why is this so?
What is this yearning, these trembling fears
Rapturous burning, melting in tears?
While thus I languish, wild beats my heart,
Yet from my anguish I would not part,
I seek a treasure Fate still denies,
Naught else I prize. . .I'm ever sighing. . .
What is this sorrow naught can dispel?
Was Alexander whistling the tune out of habit, or did it hold some special meaning for him as well, wondered Isabella? She was uncertain whether she should confront him presently, or whether she should wait until she was calmer. She felt that she needed to retain a better grip on her frayed nerves.
Before she could decide, Alexander had caught sight of her. He was less than ten yards away. It was dark outside, but the chandeliers of the grand gallery were so bright that enough light came through the immense glass windows, and they could see each other's face clearly.
Never one to be faint of heart, Isabella Bingley gritted her teeth in determination, and walked up to Alexander.
"Why have you been avoiding me all evening?" Isabella asked him plainly.
"I . . . I have not," he answered her hesitantly. "Our grandmother has been quite demanding of my time. I think even my parents' sanguine spirits are wearing thin."
"Grandmama, Aunt Lydia and our Wickham cousins are leaving for Longbourn tomorrow, are they not?"
"Yes, they are!" He gave a slight smile of relief. "This particular visit has been unusually long. Freddie has been threatening to leave for London immediately - so that he could join his father for a spell before reporting to his new post at Whitehall. Aunt Lydia has been rather overwrought with worries. She fears that Freddie will fall under his father's bad influence, and partake in a similarly dissolute life. She reluctantly asked for my father to dispense stern fatherly advice to Freddie."
"Reluctantly? Is she upset that her Freddie is less than the paragon of manhood that she believes him to be?"
"I think her disappointment is less with her son than she is with her own husband," remarked Alexander dryly.
"Poor Aunt Lydia. A moment of passion, and a lifetime of regret."
"Yes," he murmured his agreement gravely. He took a couple of steps backwards, as if he needed to draw away from Isabella.
Suddenly, he gave her a very formal bow. "Please, excuse me, Isabella," said he as he took his leave.
"Alexander!" She stopped him at once. "I need to speak with you."
"Now?" he asked glumly.
"Yes," she said firmly. "We have not spoken to each other since we . . . talked under the great tree."
"I did not think you wish to speak to me again," he stated stiffly. "Isabella. . . I owe you my deepest apology. I have already apologized to my brother. Please forgive me!"
"And?" She persisted, her voice trembling a bit, "You have nothing else to say on this matter? You have not ask me once how I feel - about you, or about James . . . or about anything connected with this?"
He finally met her gaze. Her vivid blue eyes were weary and reddened, as if she had been crying, and had not rested well lately. His heart ached for her, knowing that he was the culprit who caused her tears. How he longed to sweep her into his arms to comfort her, to kiss away the pain and the doubts! He held himself in check, with supreme control over his raging emotions.
"I have not asked you because I can see very plainly that I have hurt you - that you are confused and upset - and I am truly sorry. As for my own rash action, well . . . no . . ." he said at last, "I have nothing to add except another heartfelt apology. You are particularly betrothed to James, pending your public announcement."
"You . . . you kissed me!" She whispered desperately, shocked that he presumed that she was secretly betrothed to James, and upset that he did not care enough to hear the truth from her. Moreover, she needed to know the true cause of his action - so much of her emotional turmoil was the result of this uncertainty.
"Yes, I did," he replied very solemnly, "but surely, you have been kissed before."
"Yes, but never in such a way," she replied, fighting hard to stop her tears. She did not want to appear as if she was a helpless watering pot, a silly female who could not have rational command over her emotions. "I . . . I only wish to know if you are in . . .eh . . . if you make a habit of kissing females in such a way."
"No, I do not make it a general habit," he confessed. He was about to declare that he had great abhorrence for rakes who cared only for their own selfish wants, and he was certainly not a philanderer. His near confession was halted by the remembrance of his own resolve: he must repress his feelings for her!
He added very bluntly, "I kissed you . . . to express my admiration for your classical beauty. Do not presume that I . . . that I meant anything more than . . . admiration by my kiss. I have explained this to my brother as well."
"Have you considered what your . . . action could induce an unsuspecting female to think otherwise?"
"You are not like most females, Isabella. Surely, you are far too intelligent to let such unguarded, albeit exceedingly improper, action to cloud your mind." He added with a self-effacing laugh. "Besides, I did not think my kiss could cause such excitement."
It pained him grievously to utter such callous words to her. His words seemed to cut straight to her tender heart. He saw the raging emotions in her eyes - pain and disbelief - and he cursed himself for being so cruel. How could he tell her the truth now - that he loved her as he had loved none other before - when he knew fully of his brother's love for her? To sacrifice his own happiness for the connubial bliss of two people so dear to his heart was a noble cause, he reminded himself.
"Forgive me, Isabella," he repeated.
"No, I cannot forgive you," said Isabella at last, "but I thank you for your honesty." She stared at him for a moment longer, her eyes no longer teary, but determined and harsh.
She too had an undaunted spirit that always rose up to meet any adversity, thought Alexander with admiration.
"It is very seldom that I misjudge people," she added rather coldly. She had thought him to be different from other young men of her acquaintance, but it was apparent that she was mistaken. "I supposed that there is always a first time for all matters." She gave him a look that could wither a lesser soul, and she turned away with an air of dismissal that had the definite sense of finality in it.
Alexander stared after her, as still as a statue. He could feel the searing pain in his own heart - for hurting her so harshly, and for the unequivocal loss of her trust. He consoled himself that he had made the right sacrifice. He had made himself the villain in her eyes, and had terminated any residue of affections she might have for him in her heart. His brother James no longer had a rival for her affectionate heart.
"Choose the difficult right over the easy wrong," was one of his father's favourite maxims. He never found it harder to live up to it than at the present moment.
As Isabella stalked away, her mind was suffering violent tumult and her heart was in worse condition. The shock of discovering an unforeseen petty selfish in James Darcy was compounded by the realization that Alexander Darcy could be such an arrogant and callous man. She had imagined him to be a younger version of her esteemed Uncle Fitzwilliam Darcy - a man of sterling character and virtues - but it seemed now that she was mistaken. She always had the warmest sisterly affections for Alexander: If she was not in love with him already - she could very well imagine herself tumbling in love if he had shown the proper sincerity and reciprocal attraction. Yet, to be kissed by him, and to find out that she was nothing but an object of art in his eyes, was insufferable! To respond to his kiss in such a maddening way, to enjoy being held so close against his broad chest was inexcusable!
Isabella berated herself over and over again. She was an intelligent, rational being, and must not be guided by bestial impulses and wanton thoughts! She must not allow a moment of passion to cause a lifetime of regrets as her Aunt Lydia did.
James Darcy - whom she had always cared for with the most tender affections - was a severe disappointment. When she cared to indulge in fantastical thoughts, she had imagined married life with James as being quite wonderful - perhaps it might still be so, but James had dire need for maturity of character and temper. She could never love a man who behaved more like a spoiled, selfish child than a responsible, caring adult.
Isabella Bingley reminded herself sternly that her father's station in life did not require any of his children to marry for fortune, status or consequence. Indeed, with her substantial dowry, she could choose either to marry for love or to remain a respectable spinster! She had been wiser than she realized when she had vowed, during her debut Season, that she was too young and immature to entertain courtship from any young man. The disastrous result of letting one Darcy brother became too complacently familiar and letting the other Darcy brother kissed her so ardently had now convinced Isabella the wisdom of being free of any entanglements of her heart in the near future. She resolved again that she should not be thinking of handsome young men, but rather, she should be thinking of pursuing her own goals - to seek further education, to see the world, to engage herself in worthy causes, and . . . to be a happy spinster!
An interesting thought came to her mind as she returned to the drawing room to rejoin her family. "A single young woman in possession of a good fortune is not always in want of a husband!" she mused.
More serious events were brewing on a larger scale in the world at large than these vexing affairs of the human heart. Influential political thoughts, changing economies attributed to the shifts of power, and many other social changes. There was much political tumults brewing in the Continent. Even in the relatively stability of Victorian England, there was much agitation for social reforms and better government.
Within days of the New Year, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy found out that he had suffered a financial setback. Some years ago, he had made a substantial loan to Robert Fitzroy, the Earl of Rodham. Lord Rodham was an old chum from Cambridge, and had asked Mr. Darcy for a short-term loan to resolve some personal matters. The exact nature of such matters was never clearly divulged by Lord Rodham, but it was apparent that he could not go to Baring's for a loan. Against his better judgment, Mr. Darcy had consented to make such a loan. Lord Rodham assigned over his coal mines at Ridgemont as collateral. Mr. Darcy reasoned that it was highly unlikely that Lord Rodham would default on such a loan - a relatively small sum compared to the very large annual income from the coal mines. So the appropriate legal documents were drawn up, and the loan was made.
The loan turned out to be one of the very rare mistakes Mr. Darcy had ever made in his life. Lord Rodham suffered further financial setbacks after he took Mr. Darcy's money - his Jamaican plantation burned down, his overseer at Ridgemont embezzled all the income, and his luck at the gaming tables was a disastrous nightmare. He defaulted on Mr. Darcy's loan, as well as other loans he had borrowed from other old friends. Lord Rodham was fortunate to retain his ancestral estate, but lost all his other holdings.
It was with a grim look that Mr. Darcy called his two sons to his study the week after New Year's Day. His lawyer in London had written to inform him of Lord Rodham's default of the loan.
"So, by Monday next, after my solicitor records the ownership title with the Crown, I shall be the new owner of Ridgemont."
"A coal mine?" exclaimed James.
"Yes," replied Mr. Darcy grimly. "By its ledgers, Rigdemont has been posting losses for years - low production yield, poor revenue, and high injury rates. My solicitor suspected abuse and theft by the appointed overseer, and advised Lord Rodham to call the authorities immediately."
It was not the news of Lord Rodham's default that put such a grim look upon Mr. Darcy's face - it was the attachment letter describing the conditions of the mines.
"It seems that the conditions at the Ridgemont mines are hellish. According to this report from my solicitor, the overseer of the coal mines has been robbing Lord Rodham blind for several years. He has been sending false reports to his employer to report heavy losses whilst pocketing very handsome incomes. The workers there are poorly paid and abused."
"How can Lord Rodham let this happen at Ridgemont?" exclaimed James.
"He never set foot at Ridgemont, but placed his trust entirely on one man - the overseer."
"Have the authorities arrested this criminal overseer?" asked Alexander. "Now that his devious deeds have finally come to light?"
"The scoundrel has fled overnight - when the word of a new ownership of Ridgemont reached him. It is reported that he sailed for America already," replied Mr. Darcy.
"I hope he is apprehended quickly, and receive swift justice," said James.
"Well, I hope so too," said Mr. Darcy, "but whatever the outcome, it will not help us in our immediate concerns. It is imperative that I go to Ridgemont as soon as possible - to see how bad things really are, and try to find some remedies to the situation. I have already talked with your mother. She is having the staff prepare all necessary arrangements. I shall leave at first light tomorrow - both of you must accompany me because I strongly suspect a major crisis has fallen into our laps."
At this very moment, Mrs. Darcy came into the room.
"Mr. Henning has the task well in hand," she reported, "and I have sent young Reynolds to Lambton to purchase provisions of food stuff, medicine, and blankets. Winter is very harsh in that part of northern country, and I think such items may come in handy - especially if the overseer has abused his workers so deplorably. You may need to purchase additional supplies later, but take whatever you can with you for now."
"You always think of everything, my dear," said Mr. Darcy as he took her hand thankfully.
"May I also suggest that the three of you share one valet?" continued Mrs. Darcy. "Coxwell is the best choice, but he is suffering from a fever."
"Yes," nodded Mr. Darcy, "we shall take Briggs with us."
It had been many days since Alexander and James had last spoken to each other, except for a civil "Good Morning" or "Good Night." They now needed to stand shoulder to shoulder in the daunting task before them. Alexander was the first one to offer his hand, and James took it at last. They shook hands silently. The personal rift between them still existed, but it was now plainly understood, with gentlemanly accord, that it would not be the cause for further havoc between them.
Mr. and Mrs. Darcy witnessed this brotherly exchange with palpable relief. It was a significant step towards a true reconciliation in the future. Mr. Darcy put his arm discreetly around his wife's slender waist, and drew her closer to his side. He disliked vehemently the prospect of being away from his beloved Lizzy, but duty and responsibility demanded heavy sacrifices. He knew, as his wife did, that it would be many weeks before they would be standing together with their beloved sons in the warm sanctuary of Pemberley. They turned and gazed into each other's eyes intently. After such a long and intimate marriage, there was no need for words. Their shared looks reaffirmed the bonds of their incredible love, and such a love would reach across the physical distance to hold them close to each other during the pending separation.