Page 33 of Heiress of Longbourn (Pride and Prejudice Variations)

Graveyard

Kympton

Late February

A cold wind skated across barren ground and a fresh mound of dirt, tugging at black coats and black hats and black armbands before tucking itself around rows of crosses and upright stones and shivering leafless bushes. The sun shone down on a graveyard that was serene and nearly deserted, save for the seven men standing about the new grave. The church, some hundred feet away, basked in the sun, and a sudden warble of birdsong broke the stillness.

Alexander bowed his head and said, “We commend unto thy hands of mercy, most merciful Father, the soul of this ourbrotherdeparted, and we commithisbody to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. And we beseech thine infinite goodness to give us grace to live in thy fear and love and to die in thy favor, that when the judgement shall come, which thou hast committed to thy well-beloved Son, both this ourbrotherand we may be found acceptable in thy sight. Grant this, O merciful Father, for the sake of Jesus Christ, our only Savior, Mediator, and Advocate.”

“ Amen,” the other men chorused.

“I heard a voice from heaven,” Alexander continued, “saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead which die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labors. Now unto the King eternal, immortal, invisible, the only wise God, be honor and glory for ever and ever.”

“Amen,” the men murmured again.

Alexander stepped back and nodded to two of the men, who immediately took up their implements and being shoveling dirt over the coffin in the grave. He and the other four men left the graveyard in a solemn procession and then separated into two groups. Three of the men went one way, and he and the master of Pemberley began walking toward the parsonage.

“Thank you for coming today, Darcy,” he said.

Fitzwilliam Darcy nodded and said, “It was my honor and duty, of course. Stephen Miller served Pemberley well for his entire life.”

The pair turned to the left just as the church bell began solemnly ringing in remembrance of old Miller, and the two men were silent until they reached the small stable where the Wickhams’ gig and horse were stored. Darcy had ridden from Pemberley on Phoenix, his black stallion, and once the men were in the building and the door closed behind them, the sound of the bells was sufficiently muffled to allow for speech.

“I am thankful it was Mr. Miller,” Alexander confessed, reaching out to pat the flank of his gray gelding. “With the measles running rampant, it could well have been a child. I think Miller was ready to meet his Maker.”

“Indeed,” Darcy said. “Eighty years is a long life for any man, and he has been poorly for some years. In truth, his daughter, Mrs. Langford, informed Mrs. Reynolds that he was mightily frustrated when he was unable to shoe horses anymore, and that was at least fifteen years ago.”

“Quite,” Alexander agreed and sighed. “I had better return to the house to work on my sermon. With the epidemic still spreading, I have had little time in my book room of late.”

“Alexander,” Darcy said an odd tone.

Alexander froze and turned a surprised look on his patron. It was rare for Darcy to use his Christian name.

“Or,” he said carefully, “we could talk for a few minutes, if you would like that.”

“I would like that very much, if you could spare a little time,” Darcy replied and lifted an absent hand to stroke Phoenix’s great black neck.

Silence fell for a minute, and Alexander waited patiently.

“I have come to realize that I am in love with Elizabeth Bennet,” Darcy said in a rush and then, turning a rueful look on him, continued, “and I will thank you not to be smug about that.”

Alexander was feeling smug, and he laughed and said, “I cannot promise that my self-satisfaction will be entirely wiped from my thoughts, but I will do my best to hide it from my face. Nor would I possibly be so rude as to say that I told you so.”

Darcy laughed and said, “Of course you would not do that.”

A moment later, the master of Pemberley grew serious and said, “I truly want your opinion of this, my friend. Do you think Miss Bennet would be a ... would she do well as the mistress of a great estate? She is not at the same level of society as I am, and I worry that it might be too much for her, though indeed, it is hard to imagine anything being too much for Miss Bennet.”

Alexander, observing the passionate light in Darcy’s eyes, was caught between pleasure and perturbation.

“Darcy,” he said carefully, “before I answer your question, I must ask you one thing. Is it true, as Lydia claims, that you insulted Elizabeth’s beauty the day you first met?”

The master of Pemberley took a horrified step back. “Insulted Miss Bennet? No, of course not. I….”

He trailed off and turned a glazed look toward the only window in the stable, and before Alexander’s startled eyes, Darcy’s face noticeably paled.

“Oh no,” he muttered.

Alexander waited patiently, and a few moments later, Darcy tottered over to a simple, rather grimy, wooden chair and sank into it.

The parson waited another minute for his old friend to recover a little, and finally Darcy said, “I did, and I had entirely forgotten about it. It was at an assembly in Meryton, the very evening I arrived, and I was tired, and had a headache, and I did not want to dance, and Bingley was harassing me to dance, and I did not even look at her and certainly did not imagine she overheard me. Not that any of that is an excuse. Wickham, what am I to do?”

This was by far the most rambling answer Alexander had ever heard from the lips of his old friend, but any amusement was swept away by genuine sympathy.

“Well, I do not know,” he said. “To answer your first earlier question, I am confident that Elizabeth would be a superb mistress of Pemberley. She is, as you know, clever and active and remarkably organized. The greater question is whether she would desire to be your wife, and I do not know about that. I have never heard her say a word against you, and I believe she likes you well enough. However, given that initial insult, which still looms large in Lydia’s memory, at any rate, I doubt Elizabeth thinks you have any interest in her.”

Darcy was frowning, his eyes fixed on Alexander’s face.

“Surely,” he said plaintively, “it is obvious how much I admire her. I have never paid so much attention to a lady.”

“But she does not know you as I do, Darcy. You have, by necessity, been forced to behave in a distant, careful manner towards unwed ladies. You have always been a good friend to me and to Mr. Bingley and others, and a kind master to your dependents, but you often look stern and unapproachable, especially in the company of unknown women who might be plotting to capture you as a husband.”

Darcy heaved a sigh. “I cannot argue that with you, my friend. I have been pursued and chased, and I thought I was showing my preference very openly, but it seems that maybe I have not, particularly with that stupid first encounter between us. Perhaps I should apologize to her for my insult and then ask for her hand in marriage?”

Alexander hesitated and then said, “At some point, possibly? The truth is that the situation is rather complicated. My sister by marriage need not accept either your apology or your offer, but since you are my patron, and she is helping Lydia through her illness, it might be awkward for us all if she did refuse you.”

“I would not hold it against her,” Darcy said heavily.

“I know, but she would probably still find it distressing. If I might make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“I suggest that you court her unofficially, but do not speak openly of your feelings yet. Once Lydia is feeling better and the weather has improved, Elizabeth will be able to return to Longbourn if she feels the need.”

Darcy nodded and said, “That seems wise. Do you truly think she would refuse me?”

“If she does not care for you enough to marry you, then yes, without a doubt. Elizabeth is not the sort of woman to marry based on wealth and position in society, which is, of course, part of the reason you find her so attractive, is it not? Moreover, she is the heiress of Longbourn and thus can live a comfortable life without marrying at all.”

Darcy’s expression was a mournful one, and Alexander could not help feel a stab of sympathetic amusement. He admired and respected and liked Fitzwilliam Darcy very much, but his old friend had grown rather proud of his position in society, and it would do him good to be taken down a peg by the sprightly, charming, clever Elizabeth Bennet.

Or not. He still thought his sister-in-law would be an excellent mistress of Pemberley, but he also would not push her in that direction. Elizabeth was intelligent and determined enough to make her own decisions about her future.