34 • Castles

“I’m exhausted,” James sighed, holding his face while gazing at Jane’s vanity mirror.

“You haven’t slept like you normally do,” Jane supplied, inserting her earrings behind him. “Going to and from both Meryton and Netherfield are unconventional before an evening out. Turn around, I’ll check your buttons.”

“My buttons are fine.”

Nevertheless, he rotated and Jane set to redoing the brass circles on his waistcoat. She frowned, “One of these doesn’t match, Lizzy.”

“It fell somewhere,” he replied with a hand in his hair. “I never found it.”

Jane hummed a sound of consternation. His head sagged a little while he smiled. “I don’t think my buttons matter towards this evening.”

“It is still a good thing to look…”

“Appropriate?”

“Put together.”

“It’s a terrible start to lie to your other half.”

She tried to glare at him but her eyes lifted with mirth against his smirk. Their heads turned toward their mother knocking on the doorframe. “The horse is ready, you two—oh!” Mrs. Bennet squeezed herself as she gazed at them. “You both look wonderful.”

“Thank you, mama,” Jane said, kissing her cheek in passing.

James followed down the stairs while their mother chattered behind them, “I’ll make a fennel salad for tomorrow’s supper. And perhaps a roast of some kind? Vegetables, mind, we have more courgettes than cattle—and asparagus with vinegar maybe—”

James rotated at the front door, and grasped his mother’s shoulders to kiss her cheek. “One day at a time.”

“You behave yourselves,” she ordered as she fussed over his hair. Jane had insisted he wear the tip of a fern frond to match hers tucked in the rolls of hair pulled into her bun. Mrs. Bennet straightened the pins behind his ear and combed his hair with her fingers. “I am expecting you both back here before the cock screams.”

“The rooster’s awake at all hours,” James complained, his boot heel clapping the stoop as he traipsed toward their horse.

“I mean it, Lizzy!”

“I know,” he drawled, carefully moving his leg over the saddle to not hit Jane already behind it.

“Jane, you will watch over him!”

“I always do,” she assured.

James turned the horse out of the paddock and encouraged him into an easy trot beneath the canopied lane towards Netherfield. “Why am I the one in need of a chaperone?”

“Because you’re the youngest between the two of us.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “Her first child to marry did so in a dishonourable fashion. She’s being careful.”

“I can’t marry,” he reminded. James had meant for it to sound neutral, or merely mild in complaint; instead his voice was hollow.

The evening sang loudly between them until Jane asked, “Would you want to?”

He offered a haphazard shrug. “Traditional matrimony is a negotiation of business or—”

“Lizzy.”

He paused. “There are…conveniences to marriage.”

“You are free to admit you want the societal establishment.”

“It’s nothing to do with society,” he all but whispered. He steered the horse around a lingering puddle, a hoof’s suction in the mud loud against the insects’ music. “I don’t know what it’s to do with.”

“All right,” she said softly.

The rest of the way was mostly passed in silence. Once James saw the gate, he dismounted and walked the horse to the front of the house. A footman’s head turned like he had been waiting, and he held the reigns while James helped Jane down. “Good evening, Mr. and Miss Bennet. You both are expected within the foyer.”

“Thank you,” Jane smiled, and they parted to ascend the stairs.

James peered at her when her arm suddenly entwined with his. He felt her weight lean into his own. “Are your slippers all right?”

“I thought I went off balance for a second.”

Her chest heaved, inducing James’ brows to furrow as he slowed them to a stop. “Are you comfortable being here tonight?”

“Of course! I’m just…nervous.” Jane frowned as if she did not quite understand the sentiment herself. “Is it normal to be this exhilarated? Good grief, I only saw Charles just a little while ago. I’m being ridiculous.”

“We have a smaller party tonight. It’s all right to be exhilarated by more intimacy… Is it William?”

“No!” Both of her hands squeezed his arm. “I promise; he and I have spoken easily between ourselves. Really, I don’t know what’s come over me. I feel like it’s one of the first times I’m seeing him.”

“You’ll feel familiar again once you’re with him,” James assured while the orange sky faded into evening’s violet. “I’ll be there the entire time.”

“I know you will be,” she smiled anxiously, but with a swat of her hand through the locks framing her face, she filled herself with resolve—

“I don’t think he would pull off a broken nose as successfully, but I think the greater misfortune may be that only dishware would be available for weaponry. It would waste the food.”

“You will do no such thing,” she uttered, deadpan.

James sauntered up the steps, where footmen opened the double doors for them. “Good evening, Mr. and Miss Bennet.”

The siblings nodded with smiles before glancing at each other. “I think they know you’re the madam of the house.”

“They’re used to us trespassing,” she giggled.

“We’re used to us trespassing,” James agreed as his eyes alighted on Charles and William entering from the next room. Jane’s fiancé wore his glistening blue coat that made his hair all the brighter. William wore his usual black one over a pine waistcoat James had not seen before. He made a mental inscription to talk to Georgiana about his jacket selection.

“The journey was easy, I hope?” Charles beamed. He took Jane’s hands and kissed her cheek. “I wouldn’t have minded sending the carriage.”

“We’re not so far away, and the rain’s already passed,” Jane teased.

“I intend to never let you get so ill again,” Charles declared while William’s eyes roamed over Jamie’s hair.

“Dinner is ready, I believe.”

“Yes!” Charles took the cue and his eyes darted between the siblings. “If it is all right with the two of you, I had the idea we might dine separately.”

James and his sister glanced at each other. “Who is Lady Anne dining with?” Jane queried.

“Her physician arrived today. They and her maid are at a restaurant in Meryton. She was very eager to try it,” Charles assured.

William intercepted, “Discuss and decide. Take your time.”

He ushered the fidgeting Bingley back out of the room, leaving the Bennets to turn toward each other. “You’re two of a kind,” James commented.

“What do you mean?”

“He seems anxious too.”

“Are you not?” she exclaimed, her hands smoothing out her skirt despite its intentional cartridge pleats. “I like the idea, but…it’s indecorous, no?”

“I think you having dinner in your own house with your fiancé borders on necessary regularity.”

She absorbed his words and voiced, “You don’t mind?”

“This house is more your castle than his. You know it better than he does,” James reminded. “I know if I tell William, he will make the effort to quell my fears. If you can’t share your trepidations with your husband, then there’s no point.”

Her weight shifted and she admitted, “Seems a bit rude, being invited to dinner and then admitting you’re nervous about a meal.”

“He’s not your host, he’s your fiancé,” James laughed. “Just order him around, as you normally do.”

“I am not that authoritarian! Am I?”

James left that alone and chuckled at the floor. “Separate from your fears for a moment. Do you want to spend the evening with him?”

Her eyes softened. “Of course I do. I love him. He makes me laugh.”

“Are you worried about him trying something untoward?”

“No, I don’t think he is the type.”

“It would be rather bold of him, knowing what happened to Wickham,” James agreed, enjoying the glare on her face. “If you’re worried about gossip over your being together without a chaperone, I think the footmen and maids will have something a bit more scandalous to whisper about.”

She frowned at him, and then it arrived all at once. “Oh my g—what can he be thinking?”

James was not ready for her to storm out of the foyer, but he managed to hold her in place with a startled laugh. “No, it’s fine. I’m not going to hide. William’s never hidden from me.”

“Lizzy, I’m so sorry—I didn’t even consider the repercussions for you—”

“Jane,” he took her hands, “I think the point of tonight is just to be together, as we are. Once I’m gone, you can scold him as much as you like over aperitifs.”

“I’ll certainly have something to say about it. I won’t have you being unsafe in my home,” she huffed, sounding far more like their mother than James was willing to admit.

“All right, Mrs. Bingley,” he crooned, following her in the same path William and Charles had taken.

“Don’t say that without sincerity.”

Charles almost startled at their arrival to the parlour, but his countenance eased when James asked, “What are the options between the two of you?”

He smiled, “They are the same courses no matter who you dine with.”

“A choice of company, then,” he smirked at William, who sighed, put out.

The siblings gave each other a final look, nodded to one another, and let their partners guide them to their separate rooms. James felt his heart flip through his chest as William took his hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” James said, recognizing the path towards the library. “She’s properly realizing she’s engaged.”

“I see,” his soft voice murmured while they passed among the books. “It can be difficult, distinguishing romantic excitement from genuine concern.”

James saw neither a dish nor a glass…or any staff for that matter. He refrained from asking where they were going, instead teasing, “Fought that battle yourself already?”

“You are trying to incite something from me.”

“Poor sport,” he scolded, but it fell out of his mouth, leaving his jaw open to gape at the next room.

The conservatory had been far from usable the last he had seen it; a room every bit tucked away as their dance had been from the rest of the ball. The dead leaves and foliage were now removed from the glass ceiling, and the entirety of the space and roof had been groomed to livable perfection. The silver moonlight blended with the orange flames on candelabrum as tall as James. The table in the center was small, the chairs on either side intimately tucked around the covered dishes: just enough for two people.

“Charles and I have enjoyed the self-serving aspect of your home. I hope you won’t mind it here?”

James had not the words to say what he felt. He was left with nodding and observing William pulling his chair out for him. He sat and stared at the dishes. A plate was already before him, so he removed the cover and understood why a small boat of vinaigrette was among the dishware. “Help yourself,” William urged when he peered up.

The salad was delicious. Toasted nuts over fresh greens and tomatoes—

“The Lucases are well?”

James peeked up with full cheeks. William chuckled and waited. “As well as they can be. Charlotte is actually in Longbourn with her husband. Her parents were so ecstatic to have her married in a union where she’ll want for nothing, that they overestimated who she was marrying.”

“Mr. Collins is harmless.”

“True, but he does require some navigating.”

“But Charlotte is healthy?” he pushed.

“I think so. We didn’t speak much about her pregnancy. But she’s also not far enough to be showing yet.”

William chewed while he pushed a nut around his plate. “I only wonder if the stresses of Hunsford are inspiring her to have the child here instead.”

James shrugged while he corralled the last of his lettuce onto his fork. “She said she had only the intention to stay until her ladyship was…tided over. But depending on how long that is, alongside Jane’s wedding, the baby may very well be born here.”

“Would you want to be their godfather?”

The question took him by surprise. He finished his last bite and admitted, “I don’t really know what the title entails.”

“You don’t have any godparents?” William’s tone lightened. He removed their salad plates to a disposal trolley, and moved covered bowls into place.

James leaned forward to smell the golden contents. “I think our aunt Philips is Jane’s and maybe our uncle Gardiner is mine, but our extended family have always been busy managing their businesses. Perhaps they weren’t good at the job.”

William smiled and provided, “The occupation is supposedly a surrogacy in the spiritual upbringing, but I believe most people leave that to the clergymen. So this manifests in their assistance to the moral and ethical development of the person, in which case I’m sure yours did just fine. It can also be an establishment of who takes the child should something happen to the parents.”

The soup was, as yet, too hot to eat at that moment. The spoon hovered over the bowl while James thought that over. “Then Jane should be the godmother.”

William nodded gently, leaving it alone. James said more brightly, “Is Lady Catherine yours?”

“Is it that obvious?” he confirmed. “But my father lived until I was an adult, and insisted Georgie and I remain at home with him.”

James brought the spoon closer to his lips. “I’m glad she wasn’t good at her job either.”

William smiled at him. “Me too.”

Salad, soup, and a medley of shellfish later, James asked, “How much are you going to require me to eat before you open that wine bottle?”

William acquiesced and lifted it for uncorking. “I didn’t want you to think I had you alone to get drunk.”

“But that’s an option now?” he smiled, holding the stem of his glass while it filled. He liked the flash of a grin on William’s face.

“Yes, it is an option now.”

“Good, because I need to talk to you about something.”

William glanced at him with a frown. “Do I need wine for it?”

“No, but the next course reminded me…how attached are you to your pastry chef?”

William’s brows lifted. “I’ll have you know: he is married to his work.”

James pointed an annoyed face at him. “No, for Jane’s wedding. She hasn’t decided on whether to have a cake or something else. I thought your chef might be a reliable guide through the matter…if not borrowed entirely.”

William corked the bottle and uncovered their pudding course: a single, but large, chocolate tart covered in fresh slices of strawberries.

“Next time I’m in Pemberley, I’ll ask him if he will oblige. Under one condition.” He had caught James with his fork poised over the plate. “You come with me.”

“You’re asking me to come grovel at the feet of a chef? That’s not a bargain, it’s a pleasure.”

William laughed and together they devoured the pastry. James hummed while the fork slid out of his lips. “Whoever made this is not bad either.”

“You know Jane and Charles are welcome to have their ceremony at my home, if that would be easier?” William offered, prying a strawberry loose from the chocolate.

“I said as much, but she wants the whole thing—the ceremony, the party…and probably whatever gifts are provided—to be what move Netherfield into being a home. I can’t imagine Charles has enough furniture to fill this place.”

“His London apartments are well furnished, but his sisters have claimed the family inventory, to be sure,” William nodded before he lifted keen eyes. “You told her Pemberley was available? I’m glad you’ve settled in so nicely.”

The tart crunched loudly between James’ ears as he paused. He swallowed thickly. “That was rude, wasn’t it?”

Another flash of teeth as those lashes lifted, candlelight molten in his irises. James felt his cheeks heat up and the ludicrous reality that he had crumbs on his lips.

“I don’t mind, so long as you share the place with me.”

James swallowed again and wiped his mouth. “I hear his lordship doesn’t spend much time in his own house.”

“Work does keep him from it,” he nodded, “as well as a lover who lives some distance away. He is a horse to apples.”

James pressed his lips together and then leaned back with laughter. He kneaded the bases of his palms against his eyes while he recovered. “None of that is true. You are handsomer than a horse, and I think you’re ready to take me away to London and Derbyshire whenever you feel like it—I need to go to London!”

William’s eyes widened over the glass he held to his lips. After a brief moment of absorption, he tipped his head, “Earlier than I expected,” and finished the wine.

James assumed the task of refilling their vessels. “And I need to see these nurseries I’ve heard about; apparently I’m free labour for the wedding decorations.”

William chuckled as he took his glass and stood with an offered hand. “I may be able to assist with both of those journeys.”

Puzzled, James took his hand and walked with him out the French doors. The light inside had kept him from noticing, but as his eyes adjusted, he was able to distinguish the basket from William’s horse, and the newly potted cuttings arranged on the brick walkway. James placed his wine glass on the brick, crouching to feel the soft fronds, waxy leaves, and prickly stems.

“An early wedding gift,” William began, “to the Bingleys, and I must admit, to you. I figured this room would be left to your creativity, and perhaps a place Jane might come for the familiarity of it. They’re not much, but they will grow.”

“A proper English garden?” James smiled up at him before he began to peruse, “Lemongrass, basil…I don’t know this one.”

“Patchouli. Pogostemon cablin,” William explained, kneeling beside him. “I’m surprised one of the floriculturists is able to acquire so many plants from the East. The same person provided the peonies you noticed last year.”

“How do I not know of this place?” he queried, rising a little to better see the other acquisitions.

William chuckled, “Why should you? When you’re living in a small paradise of your own.”

“Does Pemberley have a conservatory?” James turned to him, and realized how close he was.

William seemed surprised by the notion, and shook his head with a keen smile. “Hm, no, it doesn’t.”

“Hm,” James echoed, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Seems like a missed opportunity. All those rooms, one might be put to good use.”

“Renovating the place already?”

“No! Never mind.”

“I can have one built.”

“Don’t build it for me!”

“One of the parlours, then. The breakfast parlour is on the ground floor, and has the size to accommodate such renovation.”

“Is this how it’s always going to be?” James taunted.

“What? My audacity to execute good ideas?”

James could not help the mirth bubbling up his throat as he rubbed his eyes anew. “Insufferable. I’ll never leave! Who will know how to take care of it all?”

William leaned over the basil for something in the basket. “I did have the forethought to gather instructions on the herbs’ care. Between Jane and the housekeeper, I’m sure they’re more than competent to handle things here, while you and the gardeners will manage Pemberley. What would be the first plant in my house?”

James confronted him with mischief in his smile. “Maybe sweet williams.”

The man searched for the name in his memory. “Are those a kind of pansy?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve only seen drawings. I think they’re in the carnation family, but they’re not native to England. What flowers did your mother like?”

He could hear the breath William inhaled before he moved a lock of James’s hair from the fern leaves. “My father had our roses planted when Georgiana was born.”

“You didn’t get anything?”

“A patch of forest was planted for me. Deciduous trees outside my mother’s window to change with the seasons.”

“I should probably warn you now to lower your expectations with me.”

William laughed. “I only mean that anything is fine. What plants do you like?”

James’ eyes wandered his face while he thought about it, but after a time, he did not have an answer and he did not want one. He leaned forward and captured William’s lips. The wine in their bellies was hot and his lips were soft; James felt himself savouring until the tingle of William’s fingers in his hair submerged him in a blissful fog. The press of a thumb on his cheek made him pull away.

“Come inside,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Your eyes give you away. I want you someplace warm; the body is weaker when it is tired.”

“Oh,” he sighed, his hand finding William’s wrist as he cradled Jamie’s face. “I never managed to go back to bed.”

William pulled him forward to kiss between his brows. “A parlour was prepared for all of us to converse after dinner. Let’s sit before the fire.”

“Really?” James teased while William carried the glasses in one hand and entwined with James’ fingers with the other.

“What?” he paused for James to shut the French doors behind them.

“You are every bit a gentleman, William. I shan’t tarnish you.”

He felt his hand squeezed as William replied, “Perhaps I want to be the reason you’re tired.”

“HA! Look at you!” he cheered, his guffaws drawing more of William’s smiles.

The parlour was a cave of firelight and warmth. William set the glasses down on the table between the sofa and fireplace, only startling mildly when James’ head landed in his lap. “The others aren’t here yet,” he said by way of justifying his legs on the furniture.

The man’s chuckle washed over him while fingers combed through his hair, only catching once on the pins, which he carefully extracted. “You did that rather well,” Jamie crooned.

“Georgie’s hair is curlier than yours, and her scalp more tender.”

“Mmm…”

It was not long before he met the cliff between sleep and consciousness. He felt gravity pitch around him. Instead of leaping back to open his eyes, he sank into it.

William’s head reclined against the back of the sofa until he heard a door open. Charles and Jane’s residual mirth faded as they realized they were not alone. “Lizzy?” she realized, coming to kneel beside him. “How much wine did he have?”

“Not two glasses,” William assured.

Jane relaxed, settling on the floor. “He didn’t sleep as much as he usually does.”

“It is partly my fault,” William apologized the same moment Charles declared, “A bed will be made for him. For you both, if you wish.”

“Is it too much trouble for a message to be taken to Longbourn?”

“Far less trouble for a sober horseman,” he promised, and then left the room to make the arrangements.

Jane looked up when William inquired, “Did you enjoy dinner?”

“I did,” she grinned. “Thank you for getting the shellfish and chocolate under such short notice. It can’t have been affordable.”

“Charles may take credit for the chocolate. You will be hard pressed tearing him away from it.”

The Bingley in question returned with writing materials. “Jane, would you like to do it? I know Mrs. Bennet would be at ease seeing your hand.”

Jane obliged, writing a quick script before she sealed it with hairpins and their fern pieces inside it. Charles’ chest visibly expanded, his eyes moving over her hair half-undone. “I do have wax.”

She smiled at him. “And I have pins.”

Passing off the note, Charles left while the butler arrived to inform the beds had been turned down. “Lizzy,” was all the warning Jane gave before she pulled James up by his wrists.

“Muh…” he uttered, an arm falling across Jane’s shoulders.

“We’re staying at Netherfield for the night,” she informed.

“Again?” he moaned.

“Again.”

“Mum’s going to call me a drunk,” he complained, finding his feet in his sleep and swaying against her.

“She won’t…papa might.”