Page 2 of Through the Eyes of Love

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1806

Cambridge

With his university studies completed, Darcy was preparing to leave for home. While he sorted through his books to decide which ones to keep with him in the carriage and which to pack, his valet entered the room; however, Darcy did not look up from his task. “Kenton, the rain has not stopped for days. Perhaps we should wait another day or two for the roads to dry.”

“Yes sir. Shall I make arrangements for two days hence?”

“That would be best.”

“This express was just delivered.”

The handwriting was familiar to Darcy and he quickly tore open the letter.

My son,

It is urgent you come home immediately.

Father

“I must get home as soon as possible. Never mind the muddy roads, we must make haste!”

He was on his way within hours.

~~~

After three long, rainy days on the road, his carriage drove up the lane to Pemberley, only to find a black wreath on the front door. Tears filled his eyes. He was too late; his father was dead.

When he entered the house, his young sister ran to him and threw herself into his arms. “I am so grateful you are home, brother.” Georgiana clung to him and wept.

“So am I, poppet.” His darling sister had suffered the loss of both their parents at such a young age. First, the wonderful mother his sister never knew, and now the man who had doted on her these past ten years was gone. Darcy was determined to do everything he could to see Georgiana was cared for to the best of his ability. He excused himself and went to the study to sort out his thoughts and get a sense of Pemberley’s affairs.

His fathermusthave been ill when he saw him before the Markhams’ ball. Why had he believed Father when he had said he was well in the following months? The older man must have known he did not have long to live. Darcy now understood why his mentor was so determined to teach him as much as he could about managing Pemberley. They often talked about the running of the estate and visited the tenant farms together. Darcy attended many meetings with their steward but never suspected that Father was so ill. Oh, that he had paid better attention! Howcould he have known that it would not be many years before he would become master? He was lost in thought when the knock came on the study door.

“Enter!” He forgot his manners and shouted.

Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, stepped into the room. “May I get you anything, master Fitzwilliam? Oh, I apologise, Mr. Darcy. Your father’s death has been difficult for all of us.”

“You have known me since I was a young boy, and I confess I am overwhelmed by all these letters and invoices.” He held up the pile of correspondence in his hands. “My father taught me so much yet I have no idea where to begin.”

“Attempt one task at a time and do not hesitate to ask for help. Sir, in the following weeks, you will learn how to deal with both your loss and your new responsibilities. Your father instilled in you a love of Pemberley and its people, and I am confident you will not disappoint them.”

“You are correct, as usual. Thank you for listening and for your understanding.”

“I am confident the estate is in good hands. Now, may I bring you some tea and your favourite biscuits?”

“Thank you, that is just what I need.”

One of the letters on his desk stood out, and he tore it open.

Sir,

Pray accept my sincere condolences. George Darcy was not only my patient but a dear friend since our days together at Cambridge. I deeply regret I was not able to do more for him after I discovered the tumour in his abdomen.

He was a very fine man who was very proud of you and confident the future of Pemberley was safe in your hands.

Sincerely,