Chapter Five

Laurie’s stay with the Darcys had an inauspicious start. The day before his arrival, he had received a letter from Jo in response to his own. Once again, she had emphatically rejected any possibility of a future for them. She had also confided that Beth was gravely ill.

He had written his last letter to Jo knowing he could not rest until the matter was well and truly closed. Hearts may change after absence, and Laurie could not settle to his music until he was certain of Jo’s feelings. Yet even as he had been writing, he had correctly guessed what she would say.

Reading the words on the page, he saw anew every rejected embrace, every time Jo had slammed the old pillow on the couch between them, every cold reception to a flirtatious comment. She had never cared for him in that way. He had just been too stubborn to accept it. She had tried, thoughtful girl that she was, to spare him his heartache, but he would insist on loving her.

Loving her…

Did he, even now? His thoughts were all in disarray. His heart ached whenever he thought of Jo, yet it didn’t feel like the heartache of love. It felt more as if he had lost his father all over again.

The loneliness was still there, but his mind was not filled with thoughts of Jo anymore. Instead, he was focused on his music, as he had promised Amy.

He thought of her often, alone in Nice and away from her family while dear Bethy suffered once more.

Beth would be well, wouldn’t she? A heavy feeling settled in his heart. What of Grandfather? How would he bear it if Beth died? How would any of them? He hated to even think in those terms, but he was truly troubled.

“Laurie! Come down!” Fitz called from the stairs. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy had arranged for a fine dinner, and Grandfather meant to come and join them. Fitz was waiting for him as Laurie skipped down the steps. “Your grandfather already arrived.”

“I hope your grandmother planned a large feast, Fitz. I’m positively starving.”

His friend laughed as they walked together into the parlor, where they found Grandfather and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy in amiable conversation.

Mrs. Darcy looked up at them. “Ah! There you two are! Come, the table is ready for us.”

She and Mr. Darcy led the way into the dining room, and Laurie took a seat opposite Fitz, next to Grandfather.

For a moment his attention was arrested by a pained look on Grandfather’s face. It was gone in a moment, but Laurie had seen it. He must have had a letter from one of the March ladies about Beth.

Laurie leaned in. “Are you quite well, Grandfather?”

The old man turned to him and gave a quick nod. “Fine, Theodore. Fine.”

“Laurie, dear,” Mrs. Darcy said. “Do tell us more about your trip to Nice. We never had the chance to discuss it.”

“Are the ruins still as fun?” Fitz had a cheeky gleam in his eye.

“Not by half! I was forced to act a gentleman and could not climb them as we used to.”

Mrs. Darcy let out her sweet laugh, and Laurie smiled at her. She was such a genuine, cheery lady. “Fitz, your father used to climb all over the old castle ruins of Peveril Castle when he was a boy. We picnicked there often when he was a child.” Mrs. Darcy turned to Laurie. “Peveril Castle is quite near our home in Derbyshire.”

“Father has told me many hair-raising tales of daring.” Fitz smiled broadly.

Mr. Darcy leaned forward. “And did he tell you of the time that he got himself stuck inside a loophole window? It took me and two servants nearly an hour to get him out!”

Fitz let out a loud laugh. “That memory seems to have escaped him.”

“Tell me, Laurie, why could you not scamper over the ruins? Have you grown too sophisticated for such things?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

Laurie took a sip of wine before answering. “I was escorting a dear friend, and she has very particular feelings about how a gentleman ought to behave.” As he thought of Amy and her sketchbook, a warm feeling filled his breast. During her stay in Europe, she had grown into a woman. When he saw her in Nice, she had been so open and honest with him.

A pang of worry distracted him for a moment. She had her aunt and cousin, but they weren’t close to her the way he was. With Beth having taken a turn for the worse, would she shorten her stay and go home early? But how could she leave if the Carrols decided to stay here in Europe? Perhaps he and Grandfather might escort her home…

The conversation flowed around him, but Laurie’s thoughts remained distracted. He really ought to write to Amy tonight and make sure she was well.

“Did you see Fred Vaughn while you were in Nice, Laurie?” Fitz took a spoonful of his soup and looked at him expectedly.

“Fred? No, he was away while I was there.”

“Ah, I see.” Fitz turned to his grandmother. “I think our old friend Fred is in love with the Miss Amy March of whom we spoke earlier.”

Mrs. Darcy’s sharp eyes flicked toward Laurie. He felt the keenness of her appraisal. Swallowing his own soup, he gave a noncommittal nod. “I heard something like that, yes.”

“And Miss March?” Fitz asked. “Do you know if she returns his affections?”

Something that Amy had said flashed through Laurie’s mind. “What a question! I am fond of him, and he is a respectable man. One does have a choice in whom one loves.”

“I would not presume to answer for the lady,” he replied.

“A wise choice,” Mr. Darcy said from the head of the table. He exchanged a look with his wife, and Laurie was struck by the obvious strength of their bond.

He wished that for himself—and for Amy, as well. Could she truly be happy with Fred? Would she really accept a man she did not love? He wished that she would not.

“My dear, I believe we are acquainted with the Vaughns, are we not?” Mrs. Darcy asked.

“We are, in fact,” her husband confirmed. “The elder Mr. Vaughn is a good friend of the Bingleys.”

“Yes, of course! Now I remember. And they had the sweetest little boy. I suppose that must be the Fred Vaughn of whom you speak, Fitz.”

“It must be.” Fitz took a sip of wine. “Perhaps we shall all be together again for a certain happy event.” He threw a wink at Laurie, who couldn’t help scowling back.

“Fitz, you are incorrigible!” Mrs. Darcy said. “If the lady and Mr. Vaughn do get married, I am quite sure we will not be invited.”

“And how is Auntie Jane, Grandmother? Is she quite well?”

“My sister is very well, indeed, thank you. She and Charles decided to stay in Derbyshire. They do not love to travel as much as I do.”

“It has been far too long since I have seen them.”

“Will you come soon to Derbyshire?” Mrs. Darcy looked at her grandson with fondness, and Laurie smiled.

“Of course, Grandmother! Just as soon as Mother and Father return from the continent. We shall all travel north together.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Mr. Darcy said. “It has been many long months since we have seen William and Cassandra.”

“They are eager to be home, I believe,” Fitz said.

“Travel is all very well, but it does become tiresome,” Grandfather agreed.

Laurie looked at him closely and saw that he looked fatigued. A wave of guilt flowed through him as he studied his dear grandfather. The man had selflessly traveled to Europe with him, though Laurie knew full well that travel was not his favorite pastime. He must miss home.

Something that felt a bit like resolve settled in Laurie’s heart. He would repay Grandfather’s kindness by working hard—be it music or business. He owed the man that much.

The next morning at breakfast, Laurie asked Mrs. Darcy if he might use her music room to work on his composition whilst staying at Darcy House.

“Of course you may, my dear.” She smiled at him with motherly affection.

“My sister, Georgiana, is an accomplished musician. You will find staff paper in the little desk near the window,” Mr. Darcy said.

“Indeed? Is she a composer as well?”

“She is, but only as a hobby. She confided in me once that composition never held as much joy for her as playing.”

Laurie nodded. “I am afraid that I will feel the same.”

“It never bothered my sister that she was no composer. She takes pleasure in learning and playing music because she genuinely loves it. When I gave her a new pianoforte for her sixteenth birthday, she was rarely out of the music room.”

“A very dear friend of mine is just the same with her piano.” Laurie remembered that, after Beth had recovered from scarlet fever, Grandfather had given her his piano. How Beth treasured it!

“Are you well, Laurie?” Mrs. Darcy looked at him with concern.

“Forgive me. I was thinking of a friend. She is…she is rather ill at present.”

Mrs. Darcy said nothing but reached over and patted his hand.

“Beth has always been as quiet and shy as a mouse. She takes great comfort in her piano. She contracted scarlet fever as a young girl. We feared the worst, but her mother pulled her through.”

“That illness can leave a lasting weakness of heart, I believe,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone quiet.

Laurie just nodded. He thought of Beth often. He remembered how terrified she had been of him in the beginning. Yet was it not Beth who had encouraged the other girls to let him join their little dramatic troupe? They had all had such fun together, putting on wild theatricals, having picnics in the spring, leaving notes and treats in the special mailbox he had set up in the hedge between their homes.

He had yearned for acceptance, for belonging, for love. And the March family had given it all to him, freely and without reserve. He had never wanted it to change. Perhaps that was why he had attached himself to Jo. Surely they would marry and keep on making merry their whole lives?

But Jo had refused him, stating emphatically that they did not suit. They were friends, but it did not follow that they could be lovers. He understood that now. Jo would never make the same decision as Amy to marry where there was affection but no love.

Mrs. Darcy’s gentle voice interrupted his musings. “Play as much as you want in the music room, dear. You shall delight us by filling Darcy House with music once more.”