Chapter Six

Laurie sat at the writing desk in his room later that night facing a blank page, unsure of how he should address Amy. Since he hoped his note would cheer her up, he decided to be silly and dramatic.

My dearest mentor,

I write to you from the Darcy home in London. I have sought out my wise grandfather, and we have a plan of action. Action, my dear! Take heart, your lazy friend has made a fresh start. I plan to apply myself to my music as you urged. In fact, I have already begun!

If it is talent (as I fear it may be) and not genius, I shall accept defeat and practice my business skills with Grandfather. There, now—isn’t that what you wished for?

Is Fred Vaughn keeping you entertained in Nice? I trust his behavior is as gallant as it ought to be with your fair self.

Here he paused. No, he didn’t want to write about Fred and Amy. He left the sentence on the page but decided against pursuing that line of inquiry. Instead he spoke of Grandfather’s homesickness, which made him wonder if Amy longed for home, too.

And what of you, my golden girl of the lake? What say you about Nice versus Concord? Does France still charm you as it did when you first arrived, or do you grow wistful about the woods of home, as I do?

Write to me and tell me how you get on.

Your friend as always,

Laurie

He deliberately did not mention Beth, though he regretted it the moment the letter was sent. He should not act as though nothing was wrong—not with Amy. They had known each other far too long.

Yet meeting her in Nice was like meeting someone new. She had changed a great deal in the two years they had been apart. Oh, in many ways, she was the same Amy. She was just as opinionated, elegant, direct, and caring as she had always been. But there was a womanly aspect to her character now.

He had always been trotting after Jo; had he really never noticed how lovely Amy had become? When they said farewell on the docks two years ago, he had merely considered her a pretty young girl. Thinking about the way she looked now, he realized she was nothing less than beautiful.

Laurie did not have long to wait for Amy’s reply. The mail service in Europe was, of course, much faster than letters coming from America. Her letter arrived later that week as he was scribbling away at his music. When the liveried servant presented the missive on a silver tray, Laurie snatched it up, easily abandoning his work.

My dear composer,

I am excessively pleased to hear that you are applying yourself to your music. You have always had talent, and I am sure you will find your genius if you search diligently for it.

Your letter made me long for home! How dare you speak of Concord in such a way? I grew even more homesick than I already was! It makes me sad to think that the old post office between your house and mine sits empty. I remember looking eagerly every chance I could for treats and notes from you. What wonderful times we had! It seems so long ago.

I have had sad news from home. Jo writes that Beth has taken a bad turn. Have you heard of it? Again Marmee says I should stay, but I feel I must go home. Yet how can I? Aunt is ill, and I cannot travel alone. Take very good care of your grandfather, Laurie.

Fred has returned to England.

Write soon,

Amy

Laurie read the letter twice—the sentence about Fred three times. What did she mean, he’s returned to England? On business? To secure his parents’ consent to his marriage to Amy?

The thought put a sour taste in his mouth. Why was Fred trotting off to England, leaving poor Amy alone in France? She must be doubly lonely now! Fred had gone, Aunt Carrol was ill, and Flo would be spending much of her time tending to her mother. Laurie hoped she wasn’t severely sick, for Amy was already worried about Beth.

Amy had no one to entertain her and nothing with which to occupy her time—except her art, of course. She had spoken emphatically about giving it up, but perhaps Laurie might find a way to persuade her otherwise.

Impatient to respond, Laurie flipped his staff paper over and scribbled a reply.

My dear artist,

My deepest apologies for provoking homesickness beyond repair! I confess I miss the woods of Concord as much as you do, but I am determined to finish what I have started.

The composing goes very ill indeed. My heroine has no strength, my tunes no originality.

We have had the news of Beth here, too. Take heart, she will rally yet! God would not take such an angel from us. Do take up your artist’s brush once again, for it might bring you much comfort.

In fact, I would like to commission a piece. I am quite desirous to give grandfather a gift of thanks, for he has always been so good to me. Perhaps you might create a painting for him? I leave the subject to you.

Did I tell you I am staying with Mr. and Mrs. Darcy of Derbyshire? I went to school with their grandson Fitz for some time in my boyhood. Fitz is a dear friend and was there for me when I lost Father. Perhaps you shall meet him one day. I know your fondness for the English way of speaking.

Write again soon, if only to distract me from this miserable excuse for an opera.

Your friend,

Laurie

***

“Theodore Laurence, would you take a turn with me in the garden?” Mr. Darcy looked a trifle awkward as he said this, studiously ignoring his wife’s raised eyebrows.

“The garden, sir?” Laurie repeated. They were at the breakfast table. Fitz had not come down yet, so Laurie sat alone across from Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy looked out the window. “It is very fine out.”

“Yes. I mean…yes, of course, sir.” Laurie got to his feet but waited for his host, as he was not sure which direction to go.

As he stood, Mr. Darcy addressed his wife. “If you will excuse us for a moment, my dear.” She smiled and nodded as if it were an everyday occurrence for her austere husband to interrupt breakfast for a stroll.

Laurie followed Mr. Darcy through a small door tucked in the corner of the room.

“Mrs. Darcy had that door installed after we were first married. She wanted to be able to ‘escape to the wilds’ whenever she felt oppressed by city life.”

“Mrs. Darcy’s opinions seem to match my own,” Laurie admitted. “I love being out of doors.”

“As do I. We have that in common.” Mr. Darcy strode ahead a few paces, hands laced behind his back. He was tall with silver hair and a graceful way of walking.

Laurie decided that Amy would like him immensely. She would probably wish to paint his portrait. He walked slowly behind his host. The garden was rather small, but a cheery fountain bubbled away in the center.

When Mr. Darcy reached the charming edifice, he turned and cleared his throat. “Mr. Laurence, I am not a particularly loquacious individual, though I have endeavored to practice these many years. I am not accustomed to speaking about private matters with those beyond my family circle. However, I feel that you and I have something beyond our fondness for nature in common.”

“Do we, sir?” Laurie felt baffled.

“We do. I believe you lost your father when you were young.”

Laurie stared at him. His heart ached with the familiar feeling of loss that surfaced whenever he thought of his father. “Yes, sir. I was quite young.”

Compassionate understanding passed over Mr. Darcy’s face as he looked at Laurie. “I understand. I also lost my father when I was young. He was an excellent man, and I felt his loss keenly, although I was not given time to process the depth of my deprivation.”

“No?” Laurie fiddled with the frond of a leaf that leaned out from the bush next to him.

“My mother had passed some years before my father. When my father died, I was left to run the estate and care for my sister, who was but a girl. There was much to think about, much to do. It was some time before I could fully process what had happened.”

Laurie looked up. What Mr. Darcy described was incredibly familiar. Laurie had never spoken much about the loss of his father to anyone. Grandfather had been too overwhelmed by his own grief to offer guidance to his grandson.

Mr. Darcy looked at him with a keen eye. “Perhaps you understand my feelings?”

“I do. I was living here in Europe when my father died. Grandfather sent for me, of course. I crossed the Atlantic alone and had plenty of time to feel the loss but no one to speak to about it.”

“Were you close with your grandfather?”

“No, truthfully. He had…” Laurie stopped, not wishing to sound disloyal.

“He had disapproved of your father’s choice of bride?” Mr. Darcy asked gently. “Laurence confided that much to me.”

Laurie shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded glumly. “Yes, he disapproved of Mama. She was a pianist and not quite what grandfather had pictured for his only son.”

“I suppose you did not feel comfortable living with your grandfather at first.”

“No, I was terribly lonely that first winter. I never left the house. Grandfather hired a private tutor, and I was a rather shy boy, to own the truth.”

“As was I,” Mr. Darcy admitted with a wry smile.

Laurie smiled back. “I used to look out the window at the girls across the lane. They were always so merry. Having larks and playing games. And their mother…she seemed like the embodiment of sunshine itself.”

“I hope they befriended you despite your shyness.”

“They did. It was Jo who first pulled me out into the bright, wide world. She was always so frankly herself—there was no need at all to be shy around her. I grew up with the March family. And it did me a world of good.”

“I’m sure it did, Theodore. Forgive me, Laurie. I am not used to using nicknames.”

“You may call me whatever you wish, Mr. Darcy.”

“I would like to call you a friend, despite our very great age difference. I am no great orator, but my wife tells me I am rather good at listening. I offer my services in that regard, as a friend, should you ever wish to talk about your father. Even just to reminisce.”

Laurie considered the old gentleman. What an extraordinary man! Laurie wished he could have known him when Mr. Darcy was young.

Unbidden, the very great fear that he carried in his heart rose to his lips. “I worry that I will disappoint him. That is, if he were here today, would he…would he be proud of me?”

Mr. Darcy nodded, his look one of complete understanding. “It is something I often wondered, especially in my youth. Almost everything I did, I thought of my father—what his thoughts and wishes might have been.”

“Did it help? Having his memory to guide you?”

“Yes…and no.” Mr. Darcy sat on the pretty little bench situated on the edge of the path. He indicated the seat next to him, and Laurie sat as well. “It was helpful in the beginning. Especially when it came to the management of our estate in Derbyshire. He had been teaching me the particulars of running the estate since I was a child, and I fell back on these teachings often. But in some ways it nearly cost me my own happiness.”

“How? If you don’t mind telling me, I mean.”

“I became rather obsessed with maintaining the honor of the Darcy name. So much so that I nearly didn’t propose to Mrs. Darcy. And when I did, it was absolutely disastrous.”

Laurie’s eyebrows shot up, and Mr. Darcy actually let out a chuckle.

“Surely you are not surprised that I would not have done well at proposing.”

“I cannot imagine it, sir.”

“Everyone assumed that I would marry well. In those days, it was even more expected than it is now. I was a wealthy, landed gentleman. I was expected to marry a wealthy woman from the upper echelons.”

“I see.”

“But I fell in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. A gentleman’s daughter, to be sure, but no one of consequence. She was a country girl with no family name or fortune to recommend her. By all accounts, I should not have offered for her.”

“But you did.” Laurie smiled, enjoying this romantic tale.

“I did, though I will let Mrs. Darcy tell you just how horribly I managed my initial proposal.”

“Initial?”

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. “I bring it up because I wish to counsel you on this point. There are times in our lives when we seem to awaken to the knowledge that we have been operating under false assumptions or misguided principles. If you find yourself feeling adrift, you might take some time to reflect upon this. Are you piloting your own ship? Or have you chosen a path based on someone else’s ideas of happiness?”

This was the most Laurie had ever heard Mr. Darcy say in one sitting. He felt the import of such a moment and so took his time to answer.

“I am musical, like my mother, and rather impulsive, like my father. I have got on well enough in life until now. Have you ever planned for something, knowing it to be a sure thing, and then realized that you were utterly and completely wrong?”

“Yes. As a matter of fact, I have.”

What an intriguing man Mr. Darcy was! The more they spoke together, the more Laurie liked him. He was so imposing at first glance, elegant almost to the point of coldness. Apparently, that exterior was not the true Mr. Darcy.

“Well then, perhaps you might know how I am feeling.” Laurie suddenly felt that he could trust Mr. Darcy with his heartache. “I fell in love with the girl across the lane. Everyone assumed we would marry. But when I asked her, she refused.”

Mr. Darcy was silent a moment. “Did you care for her as more than a friend?”

“I did.”

“And do you still?”

“I…” Did he still care for Jo? Laurie felt suddenly sure. “No. I think I understand why she refused me. It is the loss of direction that plagues me now. I feel as if my whole life has been turned upside down, just as it was when Father died.”

Mr. Darcy surprised him by patting his shoulder in a grandfatherly way. “You will find your way, Mr. Laurence. Give yourself the grace of time.”

“Time? I thought ‘time and tide wait for no man.’”

Mr. Darcy smiled in acknowledgement. “True. Yet ‘let every man be master of his time.’”

Mrs. Darcy stuck her head around the little door in the wall. “Fitzwilliam, Mr. Smith is asking for you.”

“A moment, my dear.” Mr. Darcy turned back to Laurie. “Forgive me, but I have business to attend to. Do remember what I said. If you ever need assistance, please consider me.”

Laurie stood, held his hand out to Mr. Darcy, and gave him a hearty American handshake. “Thank you, sir. I shall remember.”