also has a moderate lazy streak I have noticed as well as a love of literature, we end up conversing without really planning it.
Today he rather haltingly asked my opinion on Elizabeth's health. She has been rather like a bustling bee, flittering from one event to the next with seemingly inexhaustive energy. However, I, like William, have noticed grey shadows under her lovely eyes. Apparently William discussed his concerns with Madeline, and her advice was to leave it be and trust. I concurred, especially as they will be leaving tomorrow for the quiet restfulness of Pemberley. The conversation flowed, and before I really know how it happened, he was telling me the entire tale of how he met the beautiful Miss Bennet and their convoluted history toward matrimony. Quite the story! No, Jharna, I did not badger it out of him! He offered it up freely, not that I can pretend that my curiosity over the subject was not high.
Further proof of what I had already surmised: this is a relationship and marriage of extreme emotion and the truest love I think I have ever witnessed, except perhaps for James and Anne. What a marvel it is! I must say, as he related his first encounters with Elizabeth and how his infatuation grew, it brought back memories of you, Jharna. Not that our liaison was remotely the same, quite the contrary in fact, which is why I found myself musing on it. There were no sparks when we met the first time at your father's fiftieth birthday gala. Lord, that man can put on a party! I was so young then, only in India for one year, and still captivated by the cultural differences. We have laughed on it often since, my dear, how you thought I was foppish and vain while I barely glanced your way. Of course you were married then, so I would have been a louse to do so! I was instead intrigued by the dozens of other beautiful women about, including your sisters! My, how things may have gone differently if any of them had paid me any mind!
No, it is not the similarities but more the oddities of how life weaves loose threads into patterns of beauty even with the knots and errors visible. I loved your husband, Jharna. Kshitij Ullas was one of the finest physicians I have ever met in all my travels and taught me more than any other single person. He was my mentor, friend, father, and companion. I grieved when he died, more than many who claimed to do so. Despite the love that grew between us, dearest Jharna, and the joy we shared, I would still to this day give my soul to have Kshitij Ullas alive and scolding me for some dim-witted mistake! Yet, at the same time, I cannot imagine the fifteen years we spent together passing in any way but in your arms. I have long since given up trying to find the logic in it. I suppose it is as William said while telling me his tale, some things are simply meant to be. Karma, you would say in that imperiously serene tone that I adored, nodding sagely.
My admiration for William grew exponentially during those hours. And my happiness for what he has built with Elizabeth. They are almost nauseating in their adulation for each other, the barely suppressed passion humorous to observe and tremendously refreshing. The man that William has become, the husband and soon-to-be father, is a man worth knowing. It comes back to timing, Jharna, or karma if you prefer. Your death nearly two years ago (Lord, has it really been that long?) was the greatest loss I have ever experienced, except perhaps for Alex. I have gone on living, fairly easily I thought, with my usual eccentric habits and optimism and jocoseness intact. Yet, my continual dreams of home and family invaded my tranquility, so much so that I reckoned a visit to the homeland was beckoning. The news of William's marriage lent credence to the excursion. The excitement to be home I anticipated, although I have been surprised at my lack of restlessness. Of course, it has only been a month. What I honestly did not anticipate was the developing relationship with William. Frankly, the staid William of my previous acquaintance was not really the type of person I gravitate towards, nor do I believe I was more than a vague annoyance to him. It is vastly different now. He is different now. As am I, I suppose. Whatever the case, I am highly enjoying our evolving friendship. And Elizabeth and Georgie! My, it has been many a year since I have been surrounded by such a wealth of female attention! Even Elizabeth's sisters are beginning to loosen up a bit and falling under the charms of George! Ha!!
Yes, I hear you laughing, Jharna.
Home at last! We arrived yesterday, the weather precisely as I remember it being this time of year. Hot and dry, sun shining beautifully and touching the Peaks and fields below with rays of gold. Stunning. All the pastures are a vivid green that almost hurts the eyes. And Pemberley, ah, my beloved Pemberley! How beautiful she is. Mr. Clark is still the head groundskeeper, William informs me. Obviously he has followed in his father's footsteps with equal skill as the gardens are perfection. I rose before dawn today in order to meander through the pathways in solitude as the sunrise woke the flowers, the aromas rising deliciously. I was almost late for breakfast, so lost in my reverie was I! I know, me late for a meal!
I did not have the chance to write ere we departed Kent. Miss de Bourgh was finally allowed to accompany us, but it was a dramatic scene, I am told. Raja and I stayed at the inn while Malcolm and Madeline confronted Lady C. William and Elizabeth had cleverly addressed the formal invitation to Miss Anne only. I know for a fact they rendered no formal invitations to anyone else, the festival primarily for the staff, and the inclusion of family a given. That William was quite put out by Miss Bingley insinuating herself into the company was obvious, at least to me. One annoying relative is enough, so they were succinct in their invitation to Miss Anne.
She is responding very well to the treatment. I have noticed a number of revealing glances between Miss de Bourgh and Raja. Not sure how I feel about it. I would be thrilled to see both young people find love, Miss Anne especially as she deserves some reward for tolerating her mother all these years with stoic patience. However, it is easy to misplace gratitude for affection. What is surprising is that Raja seems to be drawn to her and he has never taken his innate empathy to such degrees. I will study the situation carefully, not that there is much I can do to halt it, but I do not wish to see either hurt unduly.
Elizabeth, I am relieved to note, appears her sunny, exuberant self. Her pregnancy by all appearances seems to be progressing without complications. William is walking a foot off the ground, his eyes following her every move, not that they did not do so before. The day we arrived he was retrieving furniture from the attic. I was delighted to see the old cradle. I remember Phillip lying in it, as well as William so many years later. I know it is an heirloom, probably slept in it myself, although as there were two of us I truly do not know what Mother did! Should ask William if he unveiled a second cradle in the attic. Interesting.
I am anxious for the festival. Elizabeth is being quite secretive about the planned activities, although I can readily discern from her smug expression that it is to be an extravaganza extraordinaire! I have such fond memories of past festivals. Mother vainly tried to keep us inside but we always snuck out and mingled with the servant's children, all of us getting filthy and eating until we were ill. Good times. I specifically recall that it was the day before the Festival when James turned twenty, home from University for the summer and to celebrate his birthday on June 4, and my parents invited old Lord Matlock and his family to the Manor for the party. It was the first James, or any of us for that matter, had seen the Fitzwilliam girls for a number of years. Malcolm and James were at Cambridge together and close friends, so Father decided to include them on the guest list. Anne was fifteen, I think, and absolutely stunning. So was Muriel actually. Catherine was not there, as I remember, probably married to Sir Louis, now that I consider it. Anyway, even Alex and I at twelve could appreciate an attractive female, but James? Lord Almighty! One would think by his age he had seen his share of gorgeous ladies, but apparently not. Or, more to the point, I now know in my age-earned wisdom, not the one who would steal his heart. James took one look at Lady Anne and fell head over heels. It was clear to everyone present; James completely tongue tied and goggled eyed. Ridiculous, in fact, and Alex and I loved it! Teased him mercilessly, but he was undeterred, even when threatening to beat us senseless. Yes, indeed, happy memories!
Visited Rowan Lake today for a refreshing picnic organized at the last minute by Pemberley's most excellent Mistress. However, before I relate the day's fun, I must jot down the astonishing and amusing conversation with William earlier in the morning.
He discovered me where I was hiding in the library, entering sheepishly and carrying an enormous book in his arms and asking if he could have a private chat. It was exactly the opening I had been waiting for without even realizing it. He had questions about Elizabeth's pregnancy and birth, all understandable and typical questions, but the very fact that he was inquiring about a delicate, female-related topic proved to me even further the superior nature of the relationship they have. I teased him a bit as it still sends me into near hysterics how a grown man,
