29 • The Evil of Distance

The house was silent and dark. James had returned to his room, leaving his family in a stupor. His mother’s noises slowly faded as the hour dragged on, and eventually Mary and Kitty’s rooms fell silent. Jane tried to light a candle to sit with him, but he had insisted on sleep. Naturally, he remained wide awake, his stomach aching while he chewed another espresso bean.

He listened to Jane’s breathing for a while, to the gentle creaks and voice of the house, until he was certain all were asleep. Then with coffee sack in hand, he donned his old, weathered coat and stepped into his similarly aged but trusted boots. He only paused when Alyss met his legs as he stepped out the door. Bending to stroke her soft, pale fur and pick out a couple of brambles, James inhaled the night air: already balmy with a new day yet still frosted from the moon. The cat’s body froze at an unheard sound in the underbrush and took off, leaving James free to eat as he walked.

Careful not to awaken the house, he set off at a slow pace along the same path his father had taken himself and Charles. A path he had shown James as a boy, and one he had tread hundreds, thousands of times, so much so that the soft earth was scarred from growing fresh vegetation. As he walked, James opened his throat to the cold, his untied hair pressing against his upturned collar as he felt his muscles stretch. A bird or two trilled a greeting. It was still too early, even for them.

The lake had always been his favourite, albeit for the insects that congregated over it. The season kept them slumbering in the ground, leaving him free to tread alongside the water’s gentle music. Netherfield had views of its vast green expanse, but Longbourn had its intimate creeks and stone beaches if one knew where to find them.

James felt a twinge of remembrance as he passed an anchored canoe he had not used in ages; not since he had fallen asleep in it and Mr. Bennet had swam out and oared them back to shore. His father had been amused. His mother had been terrified, and then angry when she learned her husband let him sleep the whole day, only informing her that James had been found when they both arrived for dinner.

James preferred the water glittering with gold, but that hour had not come, so he walked on. Longbourn was bigger than most knew, as the only busy part of the property was around the house. Fields, acres, were haphazardly planted with things that were then left to tend themselves: whole stretches of Lucerne, wheat and barley, herbs of all kinds which were untouchable in the thick of summer, since the bees claimed the perfumed acreage for their own.

James found his favourite: a Lucerne meadow already sprouting indigo and violet blossoms in the green that splattered dew on his shins. Here and there a rogue yellow weed was present, lovely amongst the green that was almost black in the morning darkness. In the meadow stood a fence of cut and stacked logs, more of an establishing line than any hindrance keeping someone from crossing between Longbourn and Netherfield.

In a fit of young rage, James had dismantled a portion of it, and the logs had remained to be blanketed with moss and fungi, decorated by pinkish Valerian. James had awoken in his father’s arms, having fallen asleep in the field after his temper burnt out. He was already being lulled back to sleep by the sway of his body as Mr. Bennet chuckled, “To hell with the fence anyway. Netherfield won’t miss a few acres. The meadow is yours.”

With his eyes, James found the spots he often spent grueling summer afternoons, when the sun was too high to inspire anything productive, and lying on the earth was the only way to keep cool after swimming in the streams. Right in the center, he had awoken to fingers tracing his hairline. He knew his mother’s touch from the worn softness of her fingertips as she crooned, “Darling, I think you might have my temperament.”

He had found himself in her lap and rolled over, pressing his face to her abdomen while her hand buried in his hair, protecting him as he cried back into slumber.

James reached into the bag, but found it empty. He pocketed it as he chewed the last bean, savouring the smooth chocolate on his tongue before the grainy caffeine washed down his throat. A blanket of fog was suspended around him, testament of the seasons still discussing when summer should reign. He had not properly noticed the sky beginning to thin out with the dawn...

It took a long time for a melodic rustling to filter through the gentle noise of the sleeping meadow. James expected it to be a doe, so often did they frequent these fields with a fawn or two clumsily announcing themselves. Long enough for James to know the details of his face as William stepped to meet him.

James stared at him, his dark hair rumpled and the lot of him so unkempt that James thoughtlessly reached out—

A burst of sound escaped him as he whipped his hand back from the soft white shirt sticking out from the coat. William’s eyes widened, puzzled yet amused. “Did you think I wasn’t real?”

“What—Well, yes!” James exclaimed, his hand feeling like excited needles were dancing through it.

“Do you hallucinate with regularity?” Darcy said with the gentleness of sincerity.

“No! Just—What am I supposed to think when you’re supposed to be in London? And now you’re walking?” The silliness of his own words filled his ears, so he tried again, “What are you doing here?”

A flash of a smile donned his face but faded as William’s head bowed to glance at the ground. “I’ve been inspired to try walking. By my aunt.”

His gaze lifted warily, unsure how to tread the subject. James scoffed, “Yes, she travels fast for her age.”

Silence eclipsed them. James realized how tired he was. His eyes flicked back to William, and fell into a gaze so compassionate his lips parted. “I’m so sorry,” William murmured.

James’ heart felt bruised and…confused. “You don’t need to apologize,” he all but whispered.

“Yes, I do. I hadn’t known…” He closed his eyes in a long blink and a soft shake of his head. “To spare you the details, I tried to keep her from coming. And I failed you.”

James swallowed, but for all the good it did, his voice betrayed him. “No you didn’t.”

William’s features were soft, his every movement gentle as his chin tilted, waiting. Mounting emotion quickly hollowed James’ words. “I can’t—”

He stopped, is face dropping toward the ground. “I can’t tell you how felt your kindness is… I can’t…”

Heavy eyes lifted. “I can’t give back the generosity you’ve given us in any form of gratitude, because it isn’t enough.”

“It’s enough.”

James’ brows pinched together as he shifted his weight. Even now, William was too good to him. “No it isn’t. The way we’ve treated you after…after what you did for my sister—for both of them! Were it known to the rest of my family, you wouldn’t be treated so…”

“Lizzy.”

Air filled his throat as the word hung between them, until the flicker of a smile or a sob lifted James’ mouth. William moved a step forward. “We are each of us flawed, and I…I’d like for my goodness to have been the reason…but it wasn’t. That is not to say that I wish ill or indifference to your siblings’ lives, but my part in their happiness was brought by my own selfish desire to please you. Much as I respect them, I thought only of you.”

A soft smile warmed his features as he gazed at James, who was too dumbfounded and embarrassed to rescind anything but a stupefied stare. William finished with a tired, “Though I had very much hoped half of my involvement would’ve remained unknown. I did not think Mrs. Gardiner was so little to be trusted.”

Despite himself, a snort escaped James, “No, but Lydia is to be trusted exactly so. Once her thoughtlessness betrayed to me your name, my aunt knew it was easier to relent the tale instead of deviating my interest.”

William’s features opened, something in James’ words putting a light behind his eyes. “Ah…and is it true you broke his nose?”

“Chipped a tooth too,” he shrugged, and then frowned. “How did you even hear of that?”

William smiled, a laugh pulsing deep in his chest. Instead of answering, he replied in a long sigh, “I am now intimately familiar with the evil of distance.”

“What, five kilometers?” Jamie teased, but a look from the man silenced him as he removed a folded paper from his coat.

“I wanted a reply…but I never reached the opportunity—or perhaps the tenacity—to send it.”

James blinked, his features pinching ever so slightly as he beat fatigue aside while a burst of caffeine urged him to say, “Tell me now.”

But William smiled somewhat sadly. “It is unfinished, and nothing more than something to incite laughter.”

James felt his heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, suspended as it was in his chest. “I wouldn’t laugh.”

William met his gaze with a brightness of hope behind his eyes. “You are the one who is too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last…last we spoke of such things, you would do well to tell me so at once—”

“They’re not the same.”

William’s mouth remained open, his words caught. With every word he next spoke, pain bruised his features. “You needn’t be generous. One word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

“After you’re finally talking?” James whispered, his voice lost. It was his turn to smile sadly as he felt all the shame of the last year fill his eyes, but he forced himself to hold William’s gaze, to let him see all of it. “I have pushed you into hell and am selfishly trying to pull you back.” He swallowed and inhaled. “Do you still…?”

James could not finish. He did not know what he would do at the reply. Sprint from the field. Disintegrate among the dewdrops.

William smiled, his eyes wet. “Most ardently.”

Time hovered around them. Only William’s smile moved as James struggled to process, “Lizzy, I love you.”

William was standing right before him, his hand slowly reaching to cradle Jamie’s face, giving him time to refuse. He whispered, “Sweetheart—”

Jamie reached for his rumpled lapels the same moment he rocked onto his toes, craning his chin to find William’s mouth. He had startled the man, but only slightly, as his hands found James’ waist. He felt his boot catch on the stalks of a plant as he was lifted off the ground, William’s mouth opening for him as James’ arms encircled his shoulders. Their lips moved together, clumsy and soft until James parted for air, in time to feel his rear placed atop the piled logs. Had the fence always been so low?

William held him close, standing between James’ parted knees as his head sank down to rest against James’ shoulder and neck.

“I’m sorry,” James breathed into his hair, inhaling the ghosts of amber hair oil, citrus soap, and something else that might have been William himself. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

He felt William shake his head. “I think I would wait forever.”

“Now that is laughable.”

And James did laugh: choked sobs of residual anguish before bliss glittered in his tears. William stood up, gently lifted his chin and coaxing him with kisses to his forehead, his temples. “Stop thinking you’re worth so little. You are precious to me.” He paused. “You taste of coffee. Did you get my gift?”

“I ate it.”

William blinked as his eyes focused. “All of it?”

James wore a silly smile as he extracted the sack from his coat. William simply took it and stuffed it and the useless letter back inside his raiment. “I’ll refill it.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I want to.”

“Oh, here we go,” James chuckled, wiping his cheeks only to let his head fall heavily onto William’s shoulder. His arms slid around his torso, leaving William’s hands free to rub his neck, explore his hair, and rub his shoulder blades. The sky was beginning to be fringed with the softest orange behind the tree line. “How did you find me here?”

William kissed his hair before relaying, “My haste and failure to stop my aunt brought me back to my rooms in Netherfield. It has been…a long night.”

James’ head moved so his chin was on his shoulder. “She’s there now?”

“Yes, and probably readying to leave. I was furious. Livid at my inability to stop her; at my arriving after she had already spoken with you. I was certain she had ruined whatever favour you and I had grown between ourselves, but apparently she did not meet the profuse obedience she is so used to receiving.”

A soft snort went into the smooth wool his coat. “From a Bennet, she will never receive such a thing.”

He heard William swallow, and a hand on his nape prompted James to sit up, to let their foreheads come together. “Poor Charles had to witness it all, as only a true friend would have stood in the storm we unleashed in his house. But I could hardly care once she told me… I was seduced into hope, as I had scarcely ever allowed myself to hope before. I thought I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that you would be honest, as you’ve ever been. That, had you been absolutely decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to her, frankly and openly.”

James’ lips pressed together. “I didn’t.”

William kissed him for a long moment, a testament to his comfort that he learned Jamie’s lips at his leisure; pivoting his head and moving his lips to feel the supple flesh give under his own.

“You didn’t,” he confirmed.

“After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to your relations.”

William chuckled and continued, “So I hoped, and lay awake until I could bear it no longer. In my wanderings, I followed the gardens and fields and whatever small, forgotten paths I knew to be going in this direction…until I arrived here. I would’ve been content just to come within sight of the house, but…I reckon that’s false now. I might’ve waited until someone came outside before my sensibilities returned to me. I suppose I needn’t ask how you did the same.”

But Jamie obliged, “It’s where I always come. When I…can’t bear to be with myself, let alone anyone else. Sit here.”

William peeked at the place he was patting on the log. “This fence is old. Will it hold us both?”

“It better. It was a nightmare to push over.”

William visibly calculated what that meant, his gaze moving to the dismantled and knocked over portion beside them. “I take it that wasn’t from any duty to labour,” he teased, swinging his leg over the fence. The topmost log was wide enough for them to sit facing each other comfortably. James moved closer, his knee nudging William’s until he decidedly draped his leg over William’s thigh. An amused twitch lifted William’s lips, his fingertips mapping the slope of that knee into his shin.

“It was years ago. I was angry over something stupid.”

William peered at him with curiosity as he took James’ hands, warming his fingers. “Tell me.”

So he did. James told him how out of place he had felt as a boy in a houseful of girls, before the years brought to light how perhaps it wasn’t their strangeness, but his own that ostracized him from them. He told William of the jealousy he experienced at Lydia’s open regard of the male sex, as well as his fear. Fears he had never shared with anyone about himself, and so did William.

“When I first watched you at the Meryton ball,” he voiced, “It…angered me…to see you experiencing more happiness in an evening than I had in years. Of course I had the logic to know better, but my habits of stoicism and separation prevailed. You’ve thought my title and money provide me with certain liberties…but this is far from the case. You exhibit all of the freedom I have craved since I was a boy, innocent of my side of the world.”

James’ lips curved on one side. “I suppose it’s all relative.”

William agreed. “Of course I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, but I am since convinced I revealed my bitterness of spirit.”

James could not help but giggle at that. “I’ll take warm and foolish over the alternative.”

He received a smile as William’s fingers pushed inside his coat sleeve. “I know I have been a villain for most of our knowing one another—”

“You needn’t reflect on it.”

“Please let me,” he hushed, but not angrily. “I have been a selfish being all my life. As a child, I was taught what was supposedly right, but not taught to correct my temper. It may not manifest itself in the usual violence of noise that men are fond of using, but I’ve had a temper nevertheless. I was given good principles, but unfortunately being an only son—for many years an only child—meant I was spoilt by my parents. Though good in themselves, they inadvertently taught me to be selfish and overbearing, which I eventually thought justified, as I had a great deal to inherit.”

“Perhaps they meant for you to have the fortitude to withstand the likes of Caroline Bingley.”

His seriousness gave way to reluctant amusement. “I think they sought to protect me from the world, you are correct in that. I have a memory of a nanny telling my mother how contrary I was, full of heart but also so full of head. After my mother’s passing, spurred on by my father’s grief, I was taught to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of the rest of the world, especially after Wickham. I was never inspired or warned of the dangers in not choosing one’s family…not until I met you. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please someone worthy of being pleased.”

James chuckled with a dash of sardonic humour. “It is some jape of the universe, pitting your innocence against my cynicism.”

“I never would have described myself as ‘innocent’…until you asked me if I was god-fearing. I was sure you knew my feelings for you, so openly had you asked such a thing.”

Jamie kept his hands open, adoring how William traced his wrists, held them palm to palm. “I posed the same question to her ladyship. I was surprised when she didn’t list damnation as a reason to hinder your involvement with me.”

He faced an apologetic smile. “Christian charity keeps her close enough to God and slakes her need to place herself in people’s lives.”

James could not help but smirk; he felt the same giddiness as when Jane spoke ill of somebody. “It would’ve been a comfort that she fears something, but still not a weapon against me. My father’s logic has kept me long away from fearing God. The church on the other hand…”

William shared his smirk. “The realm of men is the more treacherous to navigate.”

James’ gaze lifted, their smiles mirroring each other until the former’s began to fade. His lashes sagged closed when William kissed his forehead. “And you’re…still sure you don’t mind navigating it with me?”

The sigh he pushed through his nose was answer enough as William once more pressed his forehead to Jamie’s. “If I am to prove my selfishness—”

“No one’s proving anything!”

“After finally tasting your reciprocation—”

“William,” James whined.

“Lizzy,” he breathed upon James’ lips. He surrendered himself to William’s kiss, the taste of his tongue sliding between his lips, sweet after so much bitterness. William held his cheek as the gentle wet sound passed between them, parting enough to say, “I know you fear for my reputation, but more lords and rich men than you might expect go unnoticed, living and dying as bachelors. I would have my truth known to you, and all you trust. I am not socially inclined enough to raise suspicion. What is the point of a title, if I cannot use it for dastardly deception?”

“Oh no, you’re already sounding like me,” James teased, but the worry did not leave his face.

William kissed him and purred, “I would have all of you, Lizzy. In my home, in my bed. Whether the structure around us is yours or mine, I haven’t a preference. And if the world fails us, we’ll have Netherfield.”

Sarcasm lifted James’ lips, inducing William to say, “What? You think the Bingleys won’t host us?”

“I think my sister resigned herself long ago to having my constant presence in her life.” Giggles bubbled forth, moving James backward lest they bump heads—and then he froze as it struck him all over again. “My sister’s a Bingley.”

William chuckled. “For a while longer, she’s still a Bennet, and she will always be your sister. Georgiana’s voiced an eagerness to meet the rest of your family.”

“They will like her very much. Kitty’s been pestering me to ask you if Georgiana came with you.”

“I suspect Netherfield will be filling up quite fast.”

James felt himself leaning closer. “The wedding isn’t happening that soon.”

William met him over their huddled legs and hands. James liked his slow way of kissing. “Might I steal you away to my rooms anyways?”

Jamie stared dumbly. “You mean now?”

William smiled. “Not now, but soon.”

“Charles is dense but not that dense. We will be incredibly obvious.”

“No one is more so a lover of love than Charles, and he is particularly enlightened as far as my treachery goes.”

James gazed down at their hands while he asked, “What do you mean?”

The answer was far from what he was expecting. “On the eve of our coming back here, I made a confession to him, which I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred to make my former, impertinent interference in his affairs so distant from his true desires. His surprise was great, and his anger justified. He had never the slightest suspicion.”

He provided a moment for James to absorb that. Afterward, the latter wondered, “I’ve never seen Charles angry before, apart from general annoyance at his sister.”

“He turns just as scarlet as you might imagine.”

James’ eyes widened, and then he was swaying backward with laughter. William eventually grinned with him, and the sight of William Darcy comfortably in love was more than James could bear. Lifting their hands up, he made the man’s palms cup his cheeks, and felt himself pulled forward for William to breathe him in.

“Long story short, here we are.”