Page 55 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
Darcy had to think for a moment about that horrid missive he had written all that time ago, and finally said, “Yes, I did. They are very old, and extremely valuable.”
“I beg you to keep your temper in check when I tell you that your collection is well known around here. Your father liked to boast about it, and many remember the boasts. There are quite a few gentlemen who wanted to read those books. They wanted to do so quite badly, and quite a few have ample funds.”
Darcy stared, so the bookseller continued.
“You told her she could notreadthem, and she followed that instruction to the letter. Sheleasedthem for a day. She made quite a game of it. Sometimes it was groups pitching their funds together, or sometimes she would auction. Either way, only one man got to handle the book, and the rules were exceedingly stringent. I think that was a big part of the amusement for the men. Mrs Darcy brought the books to the shop, double and triple wrapped extremely carefully in oilcloth. The men had to read them in the store, sitting at this very table, wearing brand new white cotton gloves. They were not allowed to smoke, eat, or drink anything at all, nor touch anything with ungloved hands. She even made them wear a cap inside in case something lurked in their hair, though I suspect she did that just for her own amusement. When they were done, they had to spend at least an hourdiscussingthe book with Mrs Darcy. That was the bargain, take it or leave it. If a man baulked, she simply doubled the price and then offered the same terms or walked away.”
Both Darcy and Longman were staring with their mouths open for some moments of stunned silence, and then Darcy started laughing. The others joined in, and within minutes, they were howling like banshees. The laughter went on for some time, with first one man almost coming to his senses, then another, only to be triggered by one of the others.
Eventually, Darcy wiped tears from his eyes. “That may be the cleverest thing I ever heard. Who would have thought? She could go far with a hundred pounds or two, even taking two servants along. She could go for years. What a clever strategy.”
“Yes, she was brilliant, but where did you get that figure?”
“It is the largest amount I can imagine for such a scheme.”
Bartlet laughed for quite some time by himself while the other two looked on in confusion.
He finally put them out of their misery. “Imight get a hundred pounds.Youmight get fifty—on a good week, if you were very lucky—but Mrs Darcy? Well, that is another matter entirely.”
Darcy regarded Bartlet with suspicion. “How much are we talking about?”
“Oh, I would not know, but for the oldest tomes, I believe she was fetching well over a hundred pounds. Have you ever spent a hundred pounds, or even two, for an afternoon or evening’s entertainment? Is that uncommon?”
Darcy grunted. “I must admit I have. I spend more than that every quarter on clothing, so any man of consequence could afford it. I have seen thousands cross the gaming tables in a few hours, so hundreds to read a rare tome, and tweak my pride in the bargain, would not be out of the question. In fact, some of my neighbours might do it even though they are barely literate just to have it on with me,” then he chuckled, “not to say that is a bad thing. I would probably do the same, given reversed positions.”
Bartlet nodded. “I made no attempt to keep track, but it seems likely that, all told, she managed several thousand. She offered me a cut, but you know how I answered. All those gentlemen bought ordinary books while they were here for the entertainment, so I made out all right.”
Once again, all three were staring with their mouths hanging open, and finally, Darcy chuckled, and within minutes they were all howling again.
Not much later, Darcy and Longman took their leave and wandered back to Pemberley.
Darcy was still chuckling when he finally retired that evening, wondering what in the world she was doing with that kind of money.
20.Breakfast
“Mrs Longman, if I eat one more biscuit, your husband will have to make two trips to the stables. One for a wheelbarrow, and the other to haul me to my horse.”
Both Longmans laughed at the admittedly weak jest, and Longman added, “Do not pick on the young master just because he is skinny as a beanpole.”
“I do appreciate the meal,” Darcy agreed laughingly.
Both Longmans had known Darcy since he was in swaddling clothes. The young Fitzwilliam Darcy had been a bit of a gangly, awkward boy, especially when compared, as he inevitably was, with his much bolder and more outgoing cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam; or worse yet, with the steward’s boy, George Wickham. When the boys were young, they were rascally and mischievous as most boys were, but the heir to the estate was always just a step behind the others, always just a bit more cautious, a bit more reticent, as if he were born with the knowledge of his duty and responsibility. Mrs Longman had chased all three out of her kitchen with a large wooden spoon more than once, though she neverquitearrived in time to prevent the pilferage of whatever pie or biscuits were cooling on the table at the time.
On the day that Mrs Darcy was birthing her last child, when the young Fitzwilliam Darcy was but twelve years old, the process was not going well at all. The men in the house could not be much bothered with the young heir to the estate; but whether that was because they thought it was women’s business, they did not think it important, or because they did not know how, was anybody’s guess. It was the Longmans who had taken him aside, and Mrs Longman who had the painful conversation about what was happening upstairs and what the likely outcomes were, thinking forewarned was forearmed.
The latest conversation was happening as Darcy was having breakfast at the stablemaster’s cottage, two days after getting the news from Bartlet that his wife was not only gone, but flush with enough money to do just about anything she wanted. He had spent the days sorting the enormous number of things awaiting his action into things that he had to do immediately or face material consequences, things that he could decide later, and the much larger pile of things he simply did not want to bother with. He also had to urgently write to his poor neglected sister with some belated apologies, and his uncle Matlock with some sharp words. Lady Catherine would get her own sharp words in person, and sooner than she might like.
In between bouts of working until his eyes crossed and fingers cramped, Darcy spent two melancholy days wandering around Pemberley between tasks, because in some ways, it felt like a tomb. Everywhere he went, he saw things that made him envision a ghost of Elizabeth, even though she had left so little behind it felt more like a dream than anything else. His memories of her were fragmented, so he could not picture her in the roomexactly, but he could picture anideaof her.
He found a lost handkerchief in the hidden stairs that connected the master and mistress’ suites to the library and wondered if that would be the only keepsake he had of her time at Pemberley until he found her—if he ever did. There was a chair in the library closer to the fire than where it formerly sat for so long a depression was worn in the floor from the legs. There were a dozen books that had been moved, but he found that she put them where they belonged, instead of where she found them. He found the seventeen law books and looked through all of them, thinking she might have left a note of some kind, probably around the marriage law or contracts sections. He spent an hour or two in the room that Georgiana haddecorated, wondering if Elizabeth found it comfortable, or if she only disliked the décor instead of hating it.
He rode Omega to the field where she made her first jump and found the log was all of half a foot high—hardly more than a broom handle. He wondered how good a rider she was when she arrived, and after Longman finished her training. She was gently born, on an estate with plenty of horseflesh, and a woman was expected to have the skill. The eldest Miss Bennet—and he struggled a moment to come up withJane—obviously knewhowto ride, but her knowledge ofwhento ride seemed suspect. However, if you looked at riding to Netherfield in the rain as a marital stratagem, he could easily see one or both Bennet parents forcing the issue. Whether the eldest Miss Bennet was willing accomplice or reluctant victim was a question best put aside.
He finished his ride by going to the wide spot in the drive between Pemberley and Lambton, then urging Omega into a full-out run, while trying to imagine how she felt leaving the Matlocks in her dust. He had to admit that just the idea of doing that gave him a thrill, so it seemed likely it would have done the same for his wife, but who could know? For all he knew, she was terrified the entire time and did it just to prove she could, and because she was too much of a lady to say what she really thought.
It all hit him the hardest when he was trying to fall asleep at the end of his first days in Pemberley without his wife, and he found himself crying like a baby into his pillow for the first time since his twelfth year, when his mother died. He would tell nobody about this episode, just as he had told nobody about the previous one.Oh, how it hurt!Since time immemorial, father had handed down to son the maxim, ‘men do not cry,’ and he had adhered to it until it struck him just how badly he had ruined two people’s lives.
He wondered when it had started. When had he become so arrogant? When had he decided his worth was better than others? Had she heard him say she was not handsome enough to dance with at that blasted assembly? In Meryton, he believed she had not; but in France, with a great deal of time to think, he worked out that she probably had. He had seen her laughing with Miss Lucas while looking at him, but was that because his arrogance amused her, or because being slighted hurt and that was her only remedy? Given that others might have overheard him, making him a joke was her best defence among her neighbours.
