An Immodest Proposal Chapter 7 - More Spring Idylls, a pride and prejudice fanfic

CHAPTER 7 - MORE SPRING IDYLLS

That spring was a wet one, one of the coldest on record, and farmers sowed their fields late and shook their heads over their stunted seedlings. But to Elizabeth, it was a wonderful spring, keen and bracing and alive.

She spent her days exploring the countryside as she had when she was a child at Longbourn and nobody had thought to curtail her freedom. Sometimes Darcy came by the farmhouse when she was out, and then he would ride out with his footman to look for her. If she was ready to return, he would give her a hand up behind him and they would ride back together. Otherwise, he would give the reins to his footman and proceed with her on foot.

On the coldest days, when few people were out who did not have to be, they would walk to Kensington Gardens about a mile away. James would meet them there with the carriage and a picnic lunch and they would eat on a blanket in the damp grass, looking out at the spires of Westminster Abbey breaking through the mist in the distance. Then he would tell her about the debates in the House of Lords and the House of Commons that had occurred that week. He had family and friends in both places, and occasionally dropped in on Whig councils at Holland House, Lord Holland's estate in Kensington not far from the farmhouse.

Elizabeth loved hearing his stories, filled with names and people who were known throughout the nation, but offering an insider's view of their lives and struggles. Through the Fitzwilliams he was related by marriage to the leading Whig families of the land, dukes and marquesses and earls, and by friendship and influence to the throne itself.

He told her that his own family had not had a title since the Darcy barony had been attainted over two centuries ago for the treason of offering shelter to two Catholic priests, and that it was a family tradition that they would neither seek nor accept such ornaments. Sola nobilitas virtus was their motto; Virtue is the only nobility. They were first among the commoners in the county of Derbyshire and proud to remain so. When he said this, his face took on the air of haughty pride she had observed in him so often, but this time Elizabeth liked it.

Jane was also well. Elizabeth wrote once every week and received a reply in about the same interval, both sisters minimizing the frequency to allay suspicion. Despite this, Elizabeth often had James drive down her street and she frequently invited the flower seller, Susan, for a carriage ride so she could receive what news that could be had.

It was from Susan that she learnt that Jane was likely with child; it would be her fourth time. Elizabeth confirmed it herself when she caught a glimpse of Jane one day stepping out of her carriage awkwardly and saw the thickening of her waist.

Jane did not write of it of her own volition, but she did admit it when taxed. Unlike Elizabeth, she saw only good in the situation.

Dearest L,

I beg that you not fear for me. Sir H was so pleased when the physician told him the news; Dr. - said he had never seen a man more so! Sir H came to me directly and called me his dear little wife and made such heartfelt apologies that I could not doubt him. He said he would give up his evil habits and stay home more. I cannot tell you how happy it made me to hear his words and receive his affection.

I am convinced that the fault must have been as much mine as his. He told me that sometimes he felt that I judged him and it made him so angry he had to lash out. It is true that I have not been as accepting as I might have been. We have both prayed that I would be more forgiving and that he would be stronger. Darling, I understand your anger, but hope that you too can find it in your heart to forgive. Your loving sister,

This letter did little to allay Elizabeth's anxiety. Nevertheless, it did seem that Sir Henry had suffered reform of a sort, likely linked to his fear that his chance at an heir was dwindling. Susan reported to her that he filled the house with flowers and presents for his wife and had told the servants that they would all receive large bonuses if the child was a son. Lady Blemmell herself seemed more happy and glowing every time Susan saw her. Despite her misgivings, Elizabeth was forced to put her fears aside.

She now spent a large portion of her day reading. A few days after Darcy had brought her the first armload of books, his carriage arrived to drop off another two boxes full. They were from the family library at Pemberley, he told her later. Again, the selection was broad, from plays and novels and poetry to sermons and lectures and philosophical treatises.

He had also been as good as his word in subscribing her to the Morning Chronicle. In addition, he had ordered the Tory-friendly Times, Cobbett's Political Register, the Radical-leaning Edinburgh Review and a number of evening newspapers and magazines. These he read and discussed with her, staying later and later in the mornings to do so. The books he would talk about with her once she read them, as he had read most of them before. His own reading seemed to consist primarily of scientific literature, of chemistry and botany and agriculture.

"Why do you read such dry stuff?" she teased him one day. They were lying together on the sofa, Elizabeth tucked into Darcy's side, both of them with books in their hands. There was less activity now in Town and Parliament as summer approached and he had started spending most of the day with her at the farmhouse.

He lifted his reading glasses onto his head to look at her and smiled. "It is not dry at all, Elizabeth. We are living in an incredible era, seeing the fastest advancement in human knowledge in mankind's history."

"Oh, really? Such as what?"

"Well, for example, there is a scheme afoot to light all of London with gas light. The company was just granted the charter this spring and the engineers have given several demonstrations at the Royal Society. Can you imagine being able to walk about London at night as one does in the day?"

She smiled at his enthusiasm. "My goodness!" was all she said, but she said it so charmingly that he was forced to kiss her.

She left him on the sofa to gather some flowers from the garden for supper since he intended to stay. When she returned, she saw he had fallen asleep with the book on his face.

"It is not such exciting reading then," she laughed, her hands on her hips as she contemplated his long, sleeping form. She leant over and carefully lifted the book away, placing it on the table. She was about to take the flowers to the kitchen when she caught sight of his face in repose and paused.

Why had she once thought his face unpleasant in its pride? He has a right to be proud, Charlotte had told her after they met him for the first time, and now that she knew him better, she was perforce in agreement. But right now, with him sleeping in glasses and a smile on his lips, he did not look proud and intimidating at all, only boyish and owlish and sweet. She sat down beside him and leant over and kissed him.

His eyes opened and he smiled. "Hello, love."

She smiled back. "You were so handsome I had to wake you with a kiss."

"I was dreaming of you. But 'dear love, for nothing less than thee, would I have broke this happy dream.' "

" ' It was a theme for reason, much too strong for fantasy'?" she quoted back to him. It was a poem by John Donne, which they had read together sitting in the garden in the evening, watching the fireflies and the stars. "How wonderful to be someone's dream come true!"

"Yes, only take care you do not leave as she did, and leave him with neither dream nor reality," he warned.

She laughed and said, over her shoulder, "I must, to put these flowers in water. But you will see me again soon."

He sat up to watch her disappear into the kitchen, then stretched himself out on the couch again with a smile.

Brooks's Club at the corner of St. James Street was quiet, as befit the early hour. Thus, Darcy's attempt to pass through its pillared doors without being pulled into the usual vortex of game play or club gossip was almost successful, until he heard his name hailed from the direction of the coffee room.

Entering, he saw Colonel Fitzwilliam lounging at a table with a man who looked to be a few years older. He recognized him by sight as the Marquess of Blake, son and heir to the Duke of Lyle. He was a wealthy and fashionable man about town, known for his high style of living.

"Where have you been, Darcy? We see nothing of you," said Colonel Fitzwilliam as the men shook hands and re-seated themselves.

"Here in Town still. You were gone, I heard."

"For two weeks, up north, but I have been back for a week." After being injured in the retreat to La Coruna, Colonel Fitzwilliam had retired to civilian life, but still worked for the War Office in procurement, which required travel to drum up the needed supplies for army and navy.

They discussed business and racing and whether Lord Liverpool would be able to hold onto power in the wake of Spencer Perceval's assassination. Then the talk returned to Darcy's whereabouts.

"What have you been up to, Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked. "I was beginning to think you had left Town."

Darcy shrugged, but Colonel Fitzwilliam grinned. "Oh, I forgot. How is Elizabeth?"

"She is well, thank you."

"Who is Elizabeth?" Lord Blake inquired.

"Darcy's mistress."

"You have a mistress, Darcy?" Lord Blake asked with interest. "I had heard that you did not indulge in such things. Is she someone I might know?"

"I doubt it," he said reluctantly. "She is a young widow, from Hertfordshire."

"Very pretty, Blake," Colonel Fitzwilliam said. "Not one-and-twenty, and a smart, sassy tongue when she gets her blood up."

"I do enjoy a woman of spirit," Lord Blake smiled, a gleam appearing in his eye. "La Giacinta is beginning to wear on my nerves, always wanting to talk of love and other nonsense. A man can only take so much. When do we meet this little spitfire, Darcy?"

"We prefer to avoid the public eye," said Darcy with haughty dignity.

"Still attempting to hold onto her reputation, is she?" said Lord Blake. "What do you do, slip into her flat when the watchmen have gone to bed? Or do you have her holed up in one of the farmhouses in Kensington specially suited for the purpose?"

Darcy coloured in vexation as his cousin let out a bark of laughter.

"No offence, Darcy," Lord Blake grinned maliciously, enjoying his discomfiture. "But it is a mistake to keep them locked up. They only tire of you sooner. If you like this one, I suggest you take her out, show her a good time."

He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out an ivory card case, then helped himself to a pen and inkwell from the club. After a few minutes of pen scratching, he handed Darcy a card.

"There you go. I am having a private supper party this Friday with Giacinta. Why do you not come and bring Elizabeth? Giacinta will give a concert. That is one thing I will give her; she can sing like an angel."

He rose and took his leave of Darcy and the Colonel.

Left alone with his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam lifted one eyebrow. "You know what I think."

"What you think has been uniformly wrong," Darcy informed him.

"Then I am overdue to be right," he smiled. "Besides, I am thinking of Elizabeth as well. She does not strike me as a woman who would be content to spend all her time waiting upon your desires."

No, Darcy did not think that either. When he left the club, his pocket held Lord Blake's card and his head was full of thoughts of Elizabeth. This time, they were not quite so pleasing.

RANDOM NOTES:

1. Darcy and Elizabeth quote from John Donne's The Dream.

2. The Gas Light & Coke Company, predecessor to British PLC, was incorporated by Royal Charter on April 30, 1812, and its plan was to install gas light lamps throughout London.

3. The British Prime Minister at the time, Spencer Perceval, was assassinated on May 11, 1812. Lord Liverpool succeeded him to the premiership, although the government dissolved within months.

4. Lord Holland, aka Henry Fox, 3rd Baron Holland, was the nephew of the great Whig politician Charles James Fox. He considered it his life's work to carry on Fox's ideals, and following the death of the brilliant political hostess Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, the headquarters of the Foxite Whigs moved from Devonshire House in London to Holland House just outside London in Kensington, where it remained for the first quarter of the Nineteenth Century.

5. The Abolition of the Slave Trade Act 1807 passed on March 25, 1807, advanced by Evangelicals and ardently supported by Foxite Whigs and most of the House of Commons. Although the Earl Fitzwilliam's son, Viscount Milton, then an MP for Yorkshire, voted in favour of the bill in the Commons, Lord Fitzwilliam himself declined to take a position in the Lords over concerns of its impact on the West India interests of certain peers.