“Girls,” he began at last. “I know it has been six months… rather, only six months since. Since the death of our parents.” Clearing his throat he sought to recall how his father had handled uncomfortable situations; a straight back and raised head all he could recollect.He would have to do just that.Sitting rigid in his seat, it somehow felt wrong, yet still, he pressed onward. “Life has been upturned I know, however, I have been giving it much thought, and, though I know it may prove… disagreeable… it is the only way I can see forward.”
Silent and wide-eyed before him, he watched as they each clung to the hand of the other, preparing for whatever horrible development he might speak of.
How had he botched this so thoroughly?
“It is time you were with family.” Faces falling before him, he hurried, “I mean, that we should all be with family–more than we are, that is.” Sighing, he rubbed his temple, the tightness forming threatening a thunderous headache. “There is no family of Father’s left–leastwise, none of close relation–however, we still have Mother’s. If we were to return to the estate Father inherited in England–Pemberley–and were to obtain a house in London as well, then we could see our aunts and uncle and cousins often. As things are now, well… aside from a few friends and Father’s estate and holdings here, there is nothing tying us to Boston. So… what do you two think?”
“England? Would Father approve, do you think?” Catherine worried, her siblings staring at her expectantly; neither having heard feeling in her tone since their parents were buried. “He always spoke against it–and you know what they say Grandfather did during the war…” she whispered, shoulders lowered as her eyes darted toward the door and window.
“Well,” Georgiana countered, “Mother was always for it; and Father said that last day that there were fond memories there for him too.”
Face pulling as she let her sister’s hand fall away, Catherine asked, “Why do you always have to speak of that day? I wish no one ever did again!” Whirling toward Fitzwilliam she added, “I am for it–Father might not agree but I am! At least then I shall be away from all of… all of this,” she exclaimed, lifting her hands toward the space around her before standing and rushing from the room crying.
“Cathy,” Fitzwilliam worried as he stood, ready to go to her until the gentle hand of his other sister stayed him.
“William,” Georgiana said softly, “let her be. At least for a few minutes.”
Nodding, he forced himself to sit back down and observe the little girl in front of him working so hard to be mature and strong.Only twelve years–thirteen before the year would be out–yet, here she was, sounding many years older.
If only she did not have to grow up so fast.
“What do you think about moving back to England, Georgie?”
Hands clasped as she considered her answer, she gave him a small smile. “I am for it. I do love it here… but Catherine needs the love and distraction of family. Of the doting and attention they are bound to give. Maybe you and I need it too,” she teased, “I know I could find it in my heart to be spoiled–and enjoy it.”
“Could you now? That is remarkably generous; perhaps I can find it in myself to enjoy it too–though I admit it would be quite difficult.”
“Oh, William,” she chuckled, swatting in his general direction though seated too far to hit him. “It is good to laugh; I have missed it. I only pray Cathy will again. Do you remember how we all used to laugh until our sides hurt and our faces were sore? Even Father and Mother? I think together we made the most beautiful sound in the world.”
“Yes… we did.” Gaze dropping to his lap as the weight of memories fell upon him, Fitzwilliam’s chest tightened.How happy those days had been. Idyllic even. But such memories would do him no good. Not now when his sisters depended upon him.
Not when he had to learn to be father, mother, and tend to the futures of all those the great wealth of their family touched. Wealth, luxury, as Father had told him often, they came with duty.
Raising his head to meet his sister’s gaze, he pulled his lips upward into what he suspected was a less than convincing smile. “It may be as much as a twelvemonth before I can dispose of my duties here, though I hope nearer eight. If you would prefer, I could arrange a governess to take you both sooner–our aunt and uncle, I am certain, would gladly allow you to stay with them until I could follow. If, however, you do not mind waiting, we could all go together? Think on it, in any case. I must see to Cathy now.”
Giving Georgiana a far more genuine smile as he stood, he proceeded toward the study door, his steps halted all at once as his little sister wrapped her arms around him.
“I do not need to think on it, I want to stay with you!” Burrowing her face into his coat her muffled voice held a desperate tinge, “Please, let us stay? As a family?”
Hand coming to rest upon her soft curls, he felt his heart pinch as though she held it instead of his sides. A soft sigh following, he knew that, even should he desire their going, he could not oppose Georgiana.Not in this. And likely in nothing else were she to ask.“Of course you may stay,” he soothed, stroking her hair as he had seen their mother often do. “Do not worry… when the time comes, we all shall go together.”
“Thank you, William,” Georgie sniffed before hugging him tighter still. “Thank you.”
∞∞∞
Boston, Massachusetts – 1809
“Mr. Darcy,” his neighbor Mr. Redding greeted as he paused in front of Simmons Mercantile. “What a pleasant surprise! I have heard talk that you and your sisters might return to England. Well, should that be true, I am more than willing to take that unprofitable south acreage off your hands–though it would do me little good. Your estate would sell far quicker and for a much higher price without that land scaring off your potential buyers, I dare say. Far better indeed!”
Pulling his shoulders back as he stared at the man in front of him, Fitzwilliam’s lips thinned.Mrs. Simmons had been all kindness when they had met in the mercantile, as had many others who asked after him and his sisters–offering to help in any way they could. Unfortunately, men such as Mr. Redding pulled at his thoughts far stronger. Those men longed for money, and were willing to do almost anything to obtain it. Including lying.
“Mr. Redding,” he bowed slightly before returning to full height, eyes narrowed. “You mean the south acreage that abuts your property? The land which allows access to the river and has enough straight trees to supply a furniture making business–such as yours–for years? Is that the land you meant?”
“Well…” Mr. Redding hemmed and hawed, his face growing blotchy as he pulled at his coat sleeves, “I suppose it could be described that way. When I said unprofitable, of course, I meant in terms of farming. It is rather poor for farming you realize. Should someone want your estate for farming then… well… but I suppose. In any case,” he redirected the topic, “I am late for an appointment. Good day, Mr. Darcy.”
Watching as the man all but ran away, Fitzwilliam shook his head.Too many greedy men in the world. Too many.
∞∞∞
