Chapter Twelve

Needs: A Pride and Prejudice Exploration

Shaking his head, George cleared his thoughts and rose from his chair and walked to the window facing the fountain. Anne had loved this view. With that thought he felt a heaviness in his heart. Grief was visiting him again. He left the silence of his study and took to the stairs. Standing before the door to Anne's suite of rooms he removed the key to that room from his pocket. He supervised any cleaning or changes done to her rooms. Entering, he attempted to find her scent, lavender and vanilla—they were absent. He walked over to Anne's bed, the bed they shared every night when they were both at Darcy House. This fact was also true of her bed at Pemberley. He would have both of these beds dismantled and order two new beds from from carpenters here in London.

George wondered what his friend James would say about his situation. He had not seen him since his self-imposed exile. It all started while on a visit to Italy. James had met a beautiful, widowed, wealthy Countess, converted to Catholicism, was summarily disowned by his family and has never returned to his homeland. Although outside of the religious issue, it was an extremely fortunate move for him as the second son of a titled father. George had wished in his heart only the best for his friend. At that time, he attempted to send him a letter addressed only with his name and the city where he was last housed and the letter was answered. Although their contact was scanty, they were each apprised of each birth, or other important event in one anothers' lives.

There was a slight knock on the door and George invited entry. It was Fitzwilliam.

"Father, we have not seen each other this morning. You are well?"

"Yes, Will, I am well just making an important decision about the furnishing in your mother's rooms. I plan to have Anne's bed dismantled and a new one made for both residences. Your mother's beds will be stored and when you marry your wife will have the choice of which beds she prefers."

"Father, I am certain it is not cold fact that you are dealing with and I honor your choice.

For just a moment Will remembered his father's screams of desperation when his mother had breathed her last breath. With shaking hands, he had drunk the draught Dr. Lewis had prepared for him and even it would not allow him to sleep. Even at his young age Fitzwilliam could understand inconsolable grief. He could hear his father's weeping and pacing. He remembered the doctor's recommendation that his father not be allowed to attend either the funeral or burial of his mother. The doctor was certain that his behavior at either venue would cause observers to declare him quite mentally sick, a hopeless case. It had taken a full year for him to come out of isolation, but Fitzwilliam knew that still all was not right with his father.

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"How about a visit to the club today," was his father's suggestion for the day's activity. Fitzwilliam simply nodded in agreement and said,

"Let us enjoy our meal here and just go for association at the club," as he was not up to the standard menu at White's which provided very few, if any, variety and rarely served vegetables with any meal.

Two things happened that day that caused Fitzwilliam to be grateful he had followed his father's suggestions; he saw Mr. Bingley there and received a supper invitation to Bingley's London home. It appears that his fiancé and her sister would be returning to London this weekend. The sight of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her auburn curls certainly would be a welcome change. He had had quite enough of London's society's female offerings, heavy on make-up, low on intellect and stimulating conversation. He was certain that continued association with Miss Bennet could raise his estimation of female intellect quite considerably.

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This evening would be one of the few that he would spend without the company of his father. Seated in the coach he reflected on his appearance. His valet had noticed a degree of nervousness as he was dressed and he inquired,

"Sir, Is this evening of special significance?

"Wilkens, you are a married man…

"Sir, most happily so."

"What is it you value most in your wife?"

"Her ability to make lemonade out of lemons."

His valet was able to observe his questioning look.

"Excuse me, Sir. My Clara can take the most dismal situation and find a bright side. It is the gift she has that has proved to be most valuable to me. You do recall my personality prior to my marriage?"

"Yes, efficient and silent. So, your wife has loosened your tongue."

"Well, let me just say she has instructed me in the value of communication."

"As the 'good book' say, she is a capable wife."

"May I wish for you the same felicity when you find your perfect match."

"I would wish it to be so…" was Fitzwilliam's verbalized reply and his heart added, 'Perhaps I will get to know this very night."

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Arriving at Bingley's house he was ushered into the drawing room where his eyes sought out the object of his worshipful meanderings. She was seated on one of the loveseats and he emboldened himself to seat himself next to her. Nodding to her he simply said,

"It is a pleasure to see you again, Miss Bennet. I do hope that your trip to London was not too fatiguing."

"Thank you so much for your concern, Mr. Darcy. I am quite well and did not find the trip to overtax my endurance."

"That is good news."

She smiled at him and he felt the warmth that that display engendered in him. Just as he was about to direct the conversation, supper was announced and he offered his arm and was accepted.

Fortunately, Miss Bingley was away for the week and so there was no awkward conversation in relation to his father. Amazingly, Miss Bennet directed the conversation to generalities, but she presented her subjects so brilliantly that he was simply enchanted. Who could take the subject of weather and make it so entertaining? Or, current events? Or, politics? Or fashion? OR SHIP BUILDING, poetry, or great books? Fitzwilliam wondered if there was any subject that he could introduce that could stop her pleasant conversation. She was well informed, well read, well-educated and so much more. Right there and then he knew that what Wilkens had told him about—a man's perfect match would feel a deep-seated need, and Miss Bennet was very much qualified to be all that and more to him.

Fitzwilliam inquired as to her length of stay in London and her reply was that she was at her sister's disposal. He knew that it was time to 'seize the day;

"Miss Bennet, would you be averse to my calling on you while you are here in London?"

Color rose to her cheeks as she responded,

"No Sir, I would welcome your attention."

"I thank you Miss Bennet."