"I appreciate you taking the time to aid me these last few days, especially in meeting the tenants. Your help will be invaluable as I fumble my way through my first efforts at estate management."
Mr. Bennet chuckled at William's words but quickly sobered. "I believe you already surpass me as a good master. Unfortunately, I have been far too indolent and have not done right by Longbourn, and subsequently, my family. I need to do better."
William simply looked at Mr. Bennet. They had been much in company as they rode across Netherfield and the areas of Longbourn it bordered, discussing issues and areas for improvement. However, he had not expected such a confession.
"I have rendered you speechless, have I? Just as well that I require no reply, simply the ramblings of a man that avoids introspection far too much but sometimes it does come upon one at inconvenient times. Do not worry for me, it will pass soon enough."
"If you are, indeed, indolent, would it not be better to deal with the problems you face rather than ignoring them? Ignoring problems only allows them time and space to grow larger thus making them more difficult to repair." William liked Mr. Bennet but he had little patience for men who did not face their failures. "You will pardon my presumptuousness," he added as an afterthought.
"I do not think you mean that," Mr. Bennet chuckled again. "I also do not think you speak of my problems alone."
"You are very astute. My father, he created an insurmountable chasm between us due to his own lack of, well, everything."
"Would you like to talk about it?" Mr. Bennet asked quietly. "You may be assured of my discretion."
"No, I…yes, I just, I do not know."
Mr. Bennet took the lead. "Your father is still living, yes?" William nodded. "Yet neither you nor your mother speak of him. Did he harm you, lad? Or your sister?"
"He did all of us great harm. While he himself never raised a hand to us, I did experience physical injury due to his actions, or rather his inaction. Luckily, my mother and sister escaped that. However, sometimes the greatest harm is not physical." William told Mr. Bennet of his treatment at the hands of George Darcy and George Wickham.
"Do not think me horrible but I am glad George Wickham is dead." Hearing of the man's demise, Mr. Bennet felt an odd sense of satisfaction. "I have never met your father, nor do I ever wish to, but I can confidently say I would not like him. What happened after he came to Kent?"
"My mother's letter left some things out, but you will enjoy this, my cousin Anne, who had been watching through a crack in the door, claims the teapot was emptied onto my father's lap and at a later point it came perilously close to striking him in the head on its way to the fireplace. Needless to say, my mother and sister did not return to Pemberley with him."
"And when you returned from your tour, did you confront him?"
"Oh, I most certainly did…"
~~PoR~~
Pemberley, 1806
Mrs. Reynolds came bustling up to Mr. Darcy when he returned to the house after his ride. "Mr. Darcy, young master William is here! He is in the library."
Not bothering to wash up, Mr. Darcy went immediately to the library. He stopped in the doorway, watching his son. He had grown so tall. Of course, all the Darcy men were tall. He noted how severe William looked, and mature beyond his years.
"William, it is nice to have you here at Pemberley again. Will you be staying?"
William turned when his father started speaking, "I will not. I am just here to clear some things up. I will return to Matlock once I have had my say."
Mrs. Reynolds knocked and entered quickly, placing a tray with tea and biscuits on a low table near where William was standing. She grasped his hand and squeezed tightly. "Your favorites." She left as quickly as she entered.
William helped himself to a cup of tea and selected some biscuits. Seating himself, he leaned back in his chair with an air of nonchalance. Eventually, his father joined him though, he was much more ill at ease than his son.
"How are your mother and Ana?"
"We are not doing this. I am not here to have a pleasant chat over tea. I simply want answers. Despite my disinclination to be in your presence, I needed to come and ask why?"
"I told your mother everything. I do not know that I can offer much more."
"You are not talking to my mother; you are talking to me. And your arguments, thus far, are woefully inadequate."
"William, you and your mother just do not understand."
"While I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding. But if I am in error, please help me understand. Quite frankly, even with the explanations Mama shared with me, your reasoning is incomprehensible."
"George is my nephew."
"So I hear, but so are James and Richard. Would you allow them to abuse me with impunity, would you support them so blindly, would you risk your marriage for them?"
"It is not that simple."
"If you will not answer my questions, I am quite prepared to answer them myself. It is 'no', to each and every one. You would not grant your other nephews the same license for ruination."
"You know it is different. George is a Darcy."
"I am a Darcy!" William roared. "The irony being it was I who was treated as the steward's son."
"I know I made mistakes, but you are my heir. I would never deny you that. I had always intended you to learn your responsibilities at my side, but your mother took you away from me."
"If you are suggesting my mother is to blame for any of your rot, our conversation is about to become very disagreeable." Mr. Darcy listened to his son's tight voice, and he had the thought that while George's temper ran fiery and messy, William's was cold and contained. "I do not believe it is an exaggeration to say that my mother took me away to save my life.
"But I am curious, you say you would not deny me but that is exactly what you did by sending George to Eton and Cambridge. You denied me the experience shared by generations of Darcy heirs. And I should warn you, I will not be receptive to any comment that places blame on my mother. You could have just as easily sent George to another school."
"I did not believe your mother would go through with her threat to send you elsewhere." Mr. Darcy was unnerved by the intensity of William's stare. "And for that first year, I did think you were attending Eton."
"Well, that is honest, at least," William said, almost to himself. "Does it not concern you that you had so little communication with and about your son that you did not know where he attended school? George I can understand. He would have wanted to avoid me as much as possible if I were there. He was also quite stupid and self-absorbed; he would not have questioned anything that seemed to be to his advantage."
Mr. Darcy could admit this a fair assessment, but his son was not yet done.
"Still, you sent George to Cambridge knowing it would result in me not attending, as if deliberately intending to alienate me. Then, you sent him on a grand tour. So much effort and expense, and he just wanted more and more. He became a beast of your own creation. Was it worth it?"
"I say this with all my heart, it was not. I cannot justify the majority of my actions other than to say I was trying to be a good son."
"In the hierarchy of familial relations, I would think being a good father takes precedent over being a good son. You allowed memory to hold mastery over the living."
"This is where your naivete is showing, William. Our entire role in society is based upon upholding the past. You cannot think the Fitzwilliams immune to its force. Their whole legacy is built upon it."
"Yet, still, you denied me my heritage."
"I was trying to right two wrongs. It was not just about George. In seeing to his future, I was putting him on the path he should have always trod if my sister had been recognized as a Darcy."
"Your liberality is truly astounding," William replied bitterly. "For all your efforts of raising George to be a gentleman, you somehow missed the fact that you did not do the same for me. You had no hand in raising me at all. But, perhaps, it necessitates Grandfather demanding it on his deathbed for you to act."
"As you said, my explanations are inadequate. I thought I was doing right by my parents as well as Sarah and George. I am sorry, William. I am sorry for everything I put you and your mother and sister through."
"You will pardon me if I am suspect of your motives. Are you only sorry because you now find yourself alone? If George were living, would he still be ensconced in Pemberley? Would you still be funding his lifestyle?" William wondered. "I cannot fathom how you could have been so oblivious to the damage you were doing to the family you actually chose to create? And why did you persist after my grandparents' deaths? What could have been easily remedied two decades ago is now beyond repair."
"Is it beyond repair?"
"It is if you make no effort. Every time you are challenged you slink away without even a hint of willingness to work for a solution. You want me or my mother to tell you how to fix things between us. We should not be responsible for fixing what you broke." Not for the first time, William noted his father's habit of focusing on certain statements and ignoring the rest.
"I shall fix it then. But whatever happens, even if you never forgive me, Pemberley will one day be yours. It shall be my life's work to make it up to you."
~~PoR~~
"I do not know why I even bothered. I did not achieve any satisfaction from the meeting."
"And have things gotten better between you two in the ensuing years?" Mr. Bennet asked.
"We meet on occasion in town, mostly for Ana's sake. Despite it all, I do feel for him. It cannot be easy to live with a man's death on his hands, even if that man was a snake."
"Do you think you will ever get the satisfaction you desire?"
"I do not. His actions were so irrational I do not think anything would ever explain it. Even if George Wickham were his natural son, that would still not be justification enough."
"Since you have taken Netherfield Park, is it correct to assume you have relinquished your claim on Pemberley?"
"Not at all. Pemberley and all its privileges and responsibilities will one day be mine. And I will be honored to be its master and I will work hard to benefit the land and its people. My father will not take that away from me. He has already taken so much." William fiddled with the reins of his horse as he took a few moments to gather his thoughts. "As a youth, I simply thought my father did not like me. I was resentful and jealous."
"One could hardly blame you," Mr. Bennet said.
"In a fit of anger, I went to my grandfather, the Earl of Matlock, and asked if he could help me change my surname. I no longer wanted to be a Darcy. I was determined to take my mother's maiden name. That lasted about ten seconds, for after my grandfather got done laughing, he reminded me I would be William Fitzwilliam, actually Fitzwilliam Fitzwilliam, as I was named after my mother's family. Then he told me anger clouded clear thinking and I needed to be more mindful, and he cautioned me against implacable resentment."
"Wise words, pity he was a Cambridge man," Mr. Bennet grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
"Indeed," William smiled back. "As I got older, I realized I was glad I kept the name Darcy. My grandfather Darcy was an adulterous hypocrite and my father a foolish ba…um, man, completely lacking in understanding. I may not be proud of them, but I am proud of what I have accomplished and what I can contribute to the Darcy name and lineage. However, my father is not pleased I have tainted it with the stench of trade."
Mr. Bennet was incredulous. "After everything, he balks at you becoming a tradesman? From what we discussed earlier, it sounded as though your grandfather and your uncle aided your pursuits."
"Well, his vow to fix things between has not been fulfilled. Instead, my father's strategy these last few years is to ignore everything that occurred as I was growing up. He likes to pretend I had a normal upbringing and that I should be behaving in a manner befitting the heir to one of England's greatest estates.
"However, my grandfather and my uncle, especially, were surprisingly keen that I do what interested me without thought to my position in society. My uncle grows increasingly discontent with the societal norms of the ton. You see, he has two sons, James, his heir, and Richard. As a second son, the only acceptable options for Richard are a career in law, the church, or the military. He chose the military, but my uncle would much rather he venture into trade. Yet, it is simply not done. According to the ton, an interesting, lucrative, and safe career as a publisher would be consider undignified for an earl's son. It is somehow much more agreeable to kill and be killed on the battlefields."
"You certainly have had your share of challenges for one so young." Mr. Bennet was suddenly exceedingly happy with his lot in life but did not feel it proper to say so to William.
"And Netherfield Park is my newest challenge. While I accept that Pemberley is my inheritance, I do not wish to live with my father, neither does my mother. We have lived so long in the homes of family, and I am grateful to them, but I wanted my own home where I could be master. My mother and sister deserve that too.
"And Pemberley is bloody awful. It is big and drafty, and crowded with so many things, artifacts of generations past. It is probably ten times the size of Netherfield. Who needs that many rooms? Do you know it has over one hundred fireplaces? The window tax alone is more than many men earn in a year." William looked baffled at such examples of excess.
"Netherfield must be positively cozy in comparison. Some might aspire to more, but I am quite content with Longbourn, though I wish it had done more to provide for my girls." Mr. Bennet blinked in surprise. "Ah, we are back where we started."
"So it seems, but you speak as though it is too late to make any corrections to benefit your daughters," William said.
"Well, perhaps, not for the younger girls but I fear it is so for Lizzy and Jane. Their need for dowries is more immediate."
William was uncomfortable with Mr. Bennet's claim of an immediate need for Elizabeth to have a dowry. "Is their need urgent?"
"Well, not so very urgent." Mr. Bennet admitted. "They have no suitors that I know of, if that is what you are asking."
"Thank you. I confess to feeling some relief. I am intrigued by Miss Bennet, and I would like to get to know her better."
Mr. Bennet looked thoughtful for a moment, then sighed. "Mr. Darcy, I appreciate the trust you showed me by revealing your family history and it is not my intention to use what you shared against you, but I admit some trepidation. I do not want Lizzy to become a pawn in a game between you and your father."
"I would never allow such a thing!"
"You have every right to your indignation, son, just as I have every right to my reticence. Ours is an acquaintance of less than a fortnight. But I ask you, if you father does not like you being in trade, how would he feel about you courting the daughter of a very minor gentleman with no connections or fortune to speak of?"
"My father has no say in the matter, at all. And I am not asking for a courtship. I would just like the opportunity to converse with Miss Bennet away from the glares and smiles of our respective mothers."
"The assembly is in three days' time. Glares and smiles cannot be escaped on such an occasion, but perhaps we should put our estate business aside for a bit. That would allow you to accompany your ladies when they visit Longbourn and I might contrive for you and Lizzy to join me in my study. I promise not a glare or smile will be seen. I make no promises about smirks, though."