The trade class may well be worth more than he had once assumed. Certainly, those in trade were worth spending additional time with; perhaps the lower gentry and those in ‘acceptable’ professions as well. At least they would be less likely to injure his sisters, and their company could be had by him without shame.
Striking the ball at the end of his cue, Darcy smiled as it hit its mark, the ball falling into the corner pocket to win him the game.
“Well, gentlemen,” Darcy said as he stood to full height, “another game? Or would you care to join my sisters in the drawing room? They ought to be having tea about now; with their governess away for the week, they would appreciate the company I imagine.”
“What sort of choice is that?” Fitz huffed as he scowled at the empty table. “Another lost game with you, or tea with my cousins? The way you put it, in any case, the cruelty of not visiting with them would be extreme!"
“Indeed, I would not disappoint such sweet girls,” Bingley grinned as he returned his billiard stick and gave a light tug to his coat. “They remind me of my cousins, though I imagine mine are a few years older–I delighted in providing them with all manner of amusements when they were Miss Darcy’s and Miss Catherine’s ages. Everyone ought to enjoy youth and serenity while they are able; responsibility comes to us all one day, we three know that… they should not have to experience that yet.”
“A little responsibility growing up can be agreeable though,” Darcy noted, “I enjoyed the slow progression of responsibilities.”
“True,” Bingley said, lips turned against their typical want. “Though it can be thrust upon one in ways no one desires.”
The evening he had first heard news of his parents’ death came tumbling through his mind–the faces of his sisters; the knowledge that everything lay on his shoulders.He had been older than his sisters currently were, but he had been far from ready for the weight of that responsibility. Of the loss that had brought it.
“That is true,” Darcy said simply, the ache within matched in Bingley’s eyes.Whatever the man’s upbringing, Bingley and he had something in common. Exactly what that was, he could not say for certain. Neither he nor Bingley being willing to say.
Not yet at least.
“William,” Georgiana said as the men entered the drawing room, “we were just sitting down to tea. Would you all care to join us? We have plenty.”
Several cups of tea and a great deal of laughter later, they all sat back, the quiet welcome as the rain dancing on the windows brought with it the soft tiredness of a lazy day. In a few hours Darcy would see to the accounts, perhaps discuss the decisions his steward had made and listen to his suggestions for the future, but for now, the comfort of the drawing room and all those within lent a rare and strange desire to linger.
“Once the weather clears,” Catherine murmured softly into the silence, “we ought to have a picnic. The grass has been beautifully green this year; it would be a fine thing to sit upon it, maybe high on a hill, where everything stretches out for miles and miles. Fine indeed.”
“Then we shall,” Darcy answered as he watched his sister’s face glow, “the first day the grass you wish to sit upon is found dry.”
“A jolly idea,” Bingley proclaimed. “If there is anything I can do, I am at your disposal!”
“Bring your energy and enthusiasm,” Fitz chuckled as he stretched lazily, “given the drowsiness of those in this room, it may be needed.”
“That it may,” Bingley laughed as he gazed at the various postures of repose. “I can only hope the vigor of a cool wind and a warm sun might stir your bones. A colonel, at least, ought to have some impetus in that regard.”
Fitz did well in inviting his friend without seeking his approval; this once at least,Darcy smirked as Bingley unsuccessfully dodged the Colonel’s barrage of biscuit crumbs.
“I surrender,” Bingley chuckled as he raised his hands, the laughter of the room a welcome sound to Darcy’s ears, until the narrowed eyes and smirk of his cousin found him.
That never boded well.
“All this talk of picnics reminds me of when my cousins first came to London, oh, a little over three years ago,” Fitz remarked, his playful smirk growing in size as he glanced between Bingley and Darcy.
Brows furrowed, Darcy thought back to that day, a pair of fine eyes first to meet his memory.
“On that day,” Fitz continued as he leaned forward, “all of us were to meet at the park, Darcy and his sisters coming separate. They arrived before my parents and I, but lo-and-behold, there Darcy stood some feet from his sisters, unconcerned at our arrival and talking to a rather attractive young lady whom, to the best of my knowledge, he did not know. In fact, although he saw we had arrived, he did not seem eager to end their conversation. I suspect it was the cool wind and warm sun as you say, Bingley, stirring bones.”
“She had dropped something while helping her young cousins, I merely retrieved it for her and she gave her thanks,” Darcy huffed; the slightly longer conversation and her smile playing softly in his mind.
“Ah,” Fitz nodded as he crossed his arms behind his head, “you do remember her after all.”
Observing the sparkling eyes of his sisters and the amused upturn of Bingley’s lips, Darcy glanced around him, his empty cup grasped and held out as soon as he saw it, “Any more tea?”
∞∞∞
“The post, Sir,” Mr. Timmons announced, Darcy accepting the various letters with his thanks before turning toward his cousin.
“Fitz. If you like, we might enjoy a ride this morning–Bingley too of course, once he is finished with his correspondence. The rain is letting up. If it does well enough, the girls may have their picnic tomorrow. Carriages, lawn games, and all… a swift ride may not be possible then.”
“Only if you promise me a race. The last time we challenged one another, my horse lost a shoe on the final stretch, and I had been well in the lead too beforehand. You will learn what true defeat is, I promise you, for all you shall see is the back of me!”
