March 5, 1806
Will entered the house through a side door after carefully wiping his boots clean. It had been a long, cold day and he was looking forward to washing up in a hot bath before joining the ladies in the sitting room. Just inside the door he checked the soles of his boots again. It was all too easy to miss a clump of muck from the stables and track it through the house. This time the boots were clean, so with a quick wipe with one of the rags kept near the door for that purpose, he dried the bottoms to avoid slipping or falling on the marble floors as he headed off to his study.
Despite being cold and tired, Will preferred to record the day's activities while they were still fresh in his mind. Today had been a challenge. He had gone to the parsonage that morning to receive the parson's update without forcing the elderly man to venture out in the cold to bring his report to Rosings as was his normal habit each Wednesday. Acting on Mr. Napier's information, Will had visited a few of the villagers. He hired some of the older boys in the village to split and carry wood for some of the more elderly residents, allowing the boys to earn enough to help carry their own families through the cold times. This solution also lifted some of the burden from the neighbors who had been trying to help while getting in their own wood.
He had taken the longer route back to the house in order pass by several of the tenant farms to check on them. At one he found the tenant examining the shed in which their firewood was stored. It had collapsed when an old and apparently rotten willow had toppled in the night. Will gathered a few of the other tenants and together they had moved the ancient willow to uncover the woodpile. Some of the firewood had become damp from the snow that fell on it when the shed crumbled. Will and the tenant, Mr. Klymer, shifted that aside and moved a good amount of the still-dry wood inside the man's house while the other men used the branches of the fallen willow to build a rough shelter for the remainder of the pile.
It had been hard work, but all the men went at it without complaint. Mr. Klymer felt himself lucky. If the willow had fallen a few feet to the left it would have been his house they were clearing, not just the wood shed. When the job was done, Mrs. Klymer served all the workers mugs of hot tea with a small dollop of spirits to warm them for the trip home. Will was glad of his portion. Even though he was riding, and the distance was short, the cold still ate into him between the farm and the Rosings stable.
Will made his notes quickly in the journal he was keeping for estate matters. He noted which boys he had hired, the rate of pay and which villager each boy had been assigned to assist. The incident with the willow and the names of the men who helped shift it and fix the damage were recorded. On a planning calendar he made a note to have the trunk of the old tree removed and a new shed built after the weather warmed and the snow melted. Then, finally, he was able to head up to his room and the bath he had ordered on his way into the house.
Tompkins had everything prepared for him and Will sank gratefully into the tub of hot water. For the first time in hours he started to feel properly warm again. Even the bruises from being smacked by stray branches as they moved the willow and the aches from all the heavy lifting eased as he scrubbed himself clean. He was reluctant to leave the tub, and it was only Tompkins' polite reminder that Mrs. Darcy and the other ladies awaited him in the sitting room that pulled him from the water, although admittedly it was beginning to grow cold by then as well.
As Will dried himself off he spotted the clothing his valet had laid out for him. The outfit was one of his new purchases, full evening dress suitable for a dinner party or ball, not the sort of thing he wore for dinner at home with his family.
"Tompkins, why have you laid these garments out for me?" he asked.
"Mrs. Darcy suggested they would be appropriate for the evening, sir." Tompkins said blandly.
"Are we having guests or going out this evening?"
"I really could not say, sir," the valet told him in a way that suggested Will would get no useful information from him no matter how skillful the questioning. Not having the energy to try, Will began to dress in the clothing laid out for him.
When Tompkins helped him with the cuff buttons, Will realized he did not recognize them or the fancy buckles on his dress shoes. Despite knowing he was not likely to get the whole story, Will questioned the valet.
"Where did these cuff buttons come from, Tompkins?"
"Lady Catherine provided them along with the buckles and several other items. They formerly belonged to Sir Lewis and she considers them the rightful property of the master of Rosings Park."
That made sense, but Will still was not certain why she would pass them on to him in this manner or why he was to dress for a formal dinner this evening. He pondered the matter as he finished with his preparations. Something was certainly going on, although he had no idea what it might be.
Given the style of his own clothing, Will was not surprised to find Lizzy, Mary and Aunt Catherine all dressed in their finest new evening gowns. He had to assume the ornate jewelry Lizzy and Mary wore had been loaned, or more likely given, to them by Aunt Catherine. The emerald necklace and earbobs Lizzy wore with her amber-colored gown sparkled in the fire and candlelight, although Will thought they were not quite as bright and beautiful as her eyes.
"Good evening. The three of you look particularly lovely this evening with your finery and jewels on to enhance your normal beauty. What is the occasion for which we have all dressed so carefully?
Do you truly not know, Will?" Lizzy asked incredulously.
"I have not the least clue. Should I know? I hope I have not forgotten any event of great importance to you all."
All three women laughed at his reply, confusing Will further. Finally, Aunt Catherine took pity on him.
"We are celebrating an event that is of the utmost importance to us. Today is the twenty-fourth anniversary of the day of your birth, dear nephew. I was there all those years ago to welcome you into the world. It is a matter of great joy to me to be here now, able to wish you a very happy birthday today!"
Will looked at the ladies in surprise. He had completely forgotten it was his birthday and it had been years since he celebrated the date, probably not since his mother's death. "You have me at a loss," he said, "but I thank you for the sentiment."
"We have more than sentiment for you this evening, Will," Lizzy said mischievously. "We have gifts and then a dinner composed of your favorite items, so far as I knew them."
"It seems I have already had some gifts this evening. Aunt Catherine, thank you for passing on the items from Uncle Lewis. My valet tells me these cuff buttons and the shoe buckles are only part of the personal jewelry you have placed in my care."
Lady Catherine appeared a little teary-eyed. "I think Lewis would have approved of you having the items. They do belong to the master of the house, after all. He and I might not have had a son, but now I look on you as one of my children. It will be good to see his ornaments in use once again."
"I see you have shared the contents of your own jewelry box with Mary and Lizzy," he continued.
"I have. Lewis and my Anne were the last of the de Bourgh family line. You and Elizabeth start the new dynasty here at Rosings Park and the de Bourgh family jewelry is a part of that inheritance. Those are the pieces I have now passed on to Elizabeth. My personal jewelry will one day all belong to Mary, I have decided. I have given her a few pieces now, so she may begin to enjoy it."
"I am glad to hear it. The items you have each chosen this evening certainly complement both your gowns and your beauty very well."
"Enough of the flattery, Will," Lizzy told him. "It is time for you to open your gifts." From behind a sofa cushion she pulled a soft package wrapped in brown paper. "This is from me," she said as she handed it to him.
Will settled on the sofa he and Lizzy usually shared in the evenings. Slowly he untied the bit of wool thread holding the package together, drawing out the process as a way of teasing the others. With deliberate movements he unfolded the paper, stopping just before the gift was revealed to look at Lizzy and see the amusement in her expression. Finally, he pulled the paper back and unfolded the skillfully knitted muffler.
"Now I shan't freeze on the way in to dinner," he said, wrapping it around his neck with complete disregard for the carefully formed folds of his cravat.
"Will!" Lizzy said, beginning to laugh.
"What, my dear? Was I not supposed to wear it? Such beautiful work should be displayed." He broke into a chuckle himself and Mary and Aunt Catherine joined in.
"I quake at the thought of what you will do with this," Mary said, offering him another parcel.
"Allow me to unwrap it, and we shall see," Will said, once again carefully undoing the package. When he revealed the small pile of handkerchiefs, he made a show of carefully examining each one. "Thank you very much, Mary. It is a most thoughtful gift and your embroidery is lovely. I will carry these with pride and gratitude."
Mary blushed at the compliments. The gift was a simple one, but she had put several hours of work and much thought into it, so she was pleased at the reception.
"Let us see what pretty compliments you have for my gift, William," Aunt Catherine said, producing her own package.
Will took it from her and gently unwrapped the waistcoat. "This is an exceptional gift, Aunt Catherine," he said. "I have seen you working on this for several evenings now but had no idea it was meant for me."
"We have all been working on your birthday gifts while you read to us, Will," Lizzy said teasingly. "At first we worried you might suspect, but when you did not say anything about it, we just carried on."
"You certainly surprised me," Will told them. "Now, I am looking forward to this special meal you have planned. You have so accurately gauged the type of gift I would appreciate, I know you will have figured out my favorite things to eat as well."
"While we wait for dinner to be ready, why do you not tell us what delayed you so long this afternoon?" Lizzy asked.
Will began to tell them about the events of the morning. Aunt Catherine had just approved his decision to hire the village boys to help out their elderly neighbors when Mrs. Hidgins looked in at the sitting room door. Instead of informing Lizzy the meal was ready, she offered Will a folded page on a silver salver. He stood and accepted the letter.
"This just came by express, sir. The rider said there was no reply expected, but it is terrible cold out and long since dark, so I offered him a bit to eat and a bed with the stable boys if you have no objections."
"We have no objection at all, Mrs. Hidgins," Lizzy told the woman. "Thank you."
While the women spoke, Will had unthinkingly broken the seal and opened the pages. Then he wished he had not. He thought of throwing it in the fire, but curiosity overcame him. He settled back into his seat, the open letter in his hand.
"What is it, Will?' Lizzy asked as Mrs. Hidgins left.
He looked up to see all three women staring at him intently. Drawing a deep breath, he began to read aloud.
William,
I have timed the delivery of this message so it should reach you on the day of your birthday. Twenty-four years ago on this date, your mother gave me a precious gift. Mere words cannot express the mix of emotions I felt when Catherine came to the room where Lewis and I had waited out the many hours of your mother's confinement and told me I had a son. Joy was my first reaction, along with relief, pride, and others I cannot name, but joy was accompanied by an equally strong sense of fear. I feared that you or your mother or both would perish. I feared that some danger might befall you. Above all, I feared that I might not be a good enough father to help you become the best man you could be. That final fear was prophetic. Despite all my good intentions, despite the great love I did, and still do, bear for you, I have failed both you and your mother in so very many ways, over and over again.
Catherine's recent letter, in which she detailed many of those failures, finally pierced the wall of misery and helplessness I had built up around me since your mother died. I will not try to excuse how I failed you by saying that part of me died with her. It is true, but I know my poor treatment of you began long before that, on the first day I forced you into the company of George Wickham.
I know I have fought against admitting my culpability in the distance that has grown up between us and I know that culpability begins with my consistent choice to believe in George over you, my own son. You must admit, he has always been plausible and I still have trouble believing half the things I know he has done. All the same, I have seen too much of his failings to doubt that I have spent years believing in the wrong boy. If he is not what he seemed, then you are not what I thought.
I am sorry for all the many times I failed to listen to you and to the many voices that defended you, including your mother. I cannot justify the choices I have made or turn back the hands of time and undo what I have marred so badly. My stubborn refusal to listen the truth no matter who spoke it or how many times the message was delivered has caused me to lose everyone who is dear to me.
I want to find a way to make amends for the injustice I have committed and the pain I have caused. Catherine told me clearly that you no longer have any need of me. I know from her letter that you have married and are now the master of Rosings park.. She challenged me to look at my life and decide if I needed you and your sister enough to take whatever action is necessary to mend what I have broken. I know that words alone are not enough. Please tell me what would be. Can anything wash away the disagreements between us and allow me to be a father to you again?
No matter happens between us going forward, I want you to know that I never disowned you and never would have done so, no matter what forgery was presented to me. You are still my heir, although with the losses young George caused and my poor management in recent years, Pemberley is not the estate I had hoped to pass on to you on that joyous day when you were born. I will also confirm that, no matter what anyone chose to believe, George Wickham was not my son, natural or otherwise. I should never have forgotten that and no one else should ever have been led by my behavior to think it.
I wish you a very happy birthday and hope it is spent in the company of those you love.
Your father,
George Darcy
As Will fell silent, the hand still holding the letter dropped into his lap. He sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply.
"Will?" Lizzy asked. "Are you well?"
He opened his eyes and turned to her. "I am furious," he said in a cold voice. "How dare he? I thought I was free of him and yet he still finds a way to ruin this special day."
"Oh, William, I am so very sorry," Aunt Catherine said. "I had not expected him to do this. I only felt I owed it to your mother to try to reach him and let him know how well you had turned out despite all the harm he had done. I wanted him to know you had become everything he ever hoped you would and you had done it on your own. Now my meddling has caused you harm."
Will calmed in the face of her distress. "I do not blame you, Aunt Catherine. It is just a letter and cannot harm me any more than I allow it to do."
"It cannot harm you at all, Will," Lizzy said forcefully. "Wipe it from your mind. We are celebrating with you tonight. You need not think of him. Here is the maid to tell us your special dinner is ready. Let us go make it special."
"Lizzy is correct, Will. He is not here, but we are and we wish to celebrate with you." Mary said.
"Let us go in then and enjoy this feast you have ordered for me. And Aunt Catherine, thank you for your defense of me. It must have been very powerful to have finally broken through his years of denial. For tonight, we will celebrate. However, I think I will have a reply for the messenger to carry back with him tomorrow."
Will stood and offered Lizzy his arm. Lady Catherine and Mary followed as they all headed in to enjoy Will's birthday dinner.
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AN: Check out this cool you tube video showing how a Georgian gentleman would dress with the aid of his valet. It is for when they still wore the wigs, so before the date of this chapter, but some of it would still apply for an upper-class male of the era who was less independent than Will. Search for: "Getting dressed in the 18th century – Gentlemen", uploaded by the National Museums Liverpool. The comments are a hoot too. Nearly all of them think the hero of the piece is the valet and I am inclined to agree.