33 • Something Borrowed, Something Blue

James opened his eyes at the sound of rustling clothing, and more distantly, the rooster crowing. His fingers reached for the puff in William’s shirt that was not quite tucked in. The latter’s head swiveled before the rest of him followed, lying forward to rake James’ hair off his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Better you than the damn bird.”

Said rooster sang inharmoniously outside, inciting William’s quiet laughter. “Can I coax you to walk me to your stables?”

James offered his hand, and William pulled him up. Downstairs, he held James’ old coat open for him to shrug into and waited for him to step into his boots. The latch clicked shut as James observed William’s bright eyes scanning the morning fog. “Are you always quiet in the morning or am I just lucky?”

“When am I ever talkative?”

“You’re far better at waking up than I am.”

“Habit.”

Long heads emerged from stall windows when the barn door rattled open. William’s onyx steed met his hands with warm familiarity. “Do you breed black horses?” James asked with his saddle on one arm. “Charles said you gave him one that looks like this.”

“They happen to be brothers, is all.” William led the horse out of the stable for James to swing the saddle over the blanket on its backside. “It may come as no surprise that Charles is rubbish at picking horses. The sweet mare he had should have been growing old in a pasture, not traversing the city.”

“Soft on horses?” James teased.

William removed his bridle from the hook beside the stable door. “You don’t like them?”

“It’s not that I dislike them. They never seem to have much affinity for me.”

“A test of wills, I’m sure.” William sent him a smirk. He took James’ hand and kissed his hair while they strolled out of the barn. “What is your schedule today?”

He mulled it over. “Jane and I will be at the Lucas’s for some time, sorting and loading a wagon with wax and honey. We will probably go into Meryton to deliver some of it to my aunt Philips before returning home. From there, the house will reek because I have samples to make.”

“Dinner at mine, then?”

“Just me?”

“Charles will likely invite Jane unless the others are bothered. You all have been hosting us for a while now.”

“Mama will want the kindness repaid but not too quickly,” James chuckled as they arrived at the paddock. He lifted his face for a kiss, which William extended into a long procession of soft pecks. “Ride safely.”

“I will. Are you going back to bed?”

“Oh yes.”

He grinned against William’s laughter before returning to the house. However, he was intercepted by his family’s rising and Mrs. Bennet ushered him back outside to pick the necessary herbs for the day.

After breakfast, the eldest siblings readied a horse with the wagon for its journey to Lucas Lodge; the road was far bumpier for James in the latter than Jane’s riding the gentle steed. The front garden and surrounding pastures were in familiar states of neat grooming and playful disarray, as warranted by a home with many children of all ages. The eldest of which, answered the door.

The Bennets stared at her. “Charlotte?” Jane exclaimed.

“You see her too?” James remarked.

“Lizzy!” she scolded, yanking him forward for an embrace. “It’s wonderful to see you both! Goodness, so much has happened—Lizzy! Did you get the letter? I’m so sorry, I had to nearly set fire to my husband’s heels to get him to the post. And Jane! Congratulations!”

“You as well,” she laughed breathlessly. “When did you arrive? We would have met you in Meryton, or an inn further out.”

“Oh, some days ago,” Charlotte waved the pleasantry aside while pulling them into the house. One of the youngest boys was already hanging off of James’s arm. “Once we knew—well, you know—what her ladyship intended, I insisted on immediate removal until the storm has blown over.”

James and his sister glanced at each other. “You may as well have told us yourself. You beat the letter in returning to Longbourn.” Charlotte’s demeanour evaporated as James continued, “It doesn’t matter now. You tried, and you’ll be wanting to stay here a long while. Lady Anne is at Netherfield against her mother’s wishes.”

Charlotte stared at him, but his sincerity did not vanish. “You’re serious?” she gaped.

“She dined with us just last night,” Jane seconded. “She carries herself with the utmost kindness. It’s devastating how she feels she cannot share herself with her mother.”

Charlotte disentangled her sibling from James and shooed him to help their mother with something. She grasped his arm, “I hope you don’t think we had anything to do with her ladyship’s discovery. I promise—Mr. Collins hasn’t a clue, and I would never, Lizzy—”

“I know,” he assured, overlapping her hand. “Everything’s fine, truly…unless you brought your husband with you.”

She made an impatient face. “Be nice.”

“He hasn’t lent a hand in filtering the wax, has he?”

Charlotte refrained from answering and began leading them through the house and back door, over the expansive garden to the small workshop next to the beehives. Sir Lucas was inside the workshop, his hair coming out of its tie and his cheeks splotched from exertion.

“James! Jane, oh goodness,” he gestured them inside and wiped his hands. “Take them. Take all of them, before I’m told again that my entire life’s work in this recreation has been done wrongly.”

James tilted his gaze toward Charlotte, who had the talent of looking embarrassed while glaring for silence. “I sent Mr. Collins into town, papa. Something that should take several hours.”

Sir Lucas’s features opened and he sighed like a cool breeze was exploring the room. He gestured to the jars on the worktable. “The usual amount? The goldies have outdone themselves this spring. Help yourself to the honey.”

One of the bees rested atop one of the many brass jar lids while the Bennets discussed how much they would use. Sir Lucas used a dropper to place sugar water next to it as Jane went around the house to lead their horse to the workshop. James began placing glass honey jars in the grass until Jane was in place, as well as counting the round bricks of wax. The thick, round discs were easier to break for melting.

“Bring those two, there,” Jane summoned once she had finished.

“That will make eleven,” James refuted.

“Someone may need extra for trial cakes,” she smirked.

Her brother could not help but smile while bringing the jars to the wagon. “Planning to lose your teeth before marriage?”

“Hush, and I’m not sure if I want a cake. Perhaps more an assortment of sweets? Something for everybody, you know.”

James perked up from where he set a wooden crate of wax down. “Actually…there may be a patisserie chef who could be convinced to—”

“You’re talking about William’s chef.” She stood up straight with a huff and set her hands on her hips.

“Too much?” James wondered. “Too soon, rather…”

“No, I think they’ll be perfect. Something borrowed,” she giggled. They paid Sir Lucas and stayed for a small luncheon before traveling into Meryton.

“It didn’t occur to me, but,” he began, “would you want the wedding at Pemberley? The housekeeper would be ecstatic. She would give you a tour of the grounds before you decided.”

Jane gave it some thought while he walked beside the horse. “I think I want it here. I want to make Netherfield my home, and to fill its grounds with the people I love. I think a wedding is just the thing to break it in, don’t you?”

“I do believe you’re saying you want a party to warm your new house.”

She laughed merrily. “Perhaps I do.”

James made a face as they came under a canopy of trees joining from either side of the road. “I never thought I might liken you to Lydia.”

He brought the horse to a stop for a heard of sheep to drift past them. The dogs trotted along, followed by their shepherd. “G’day, Bennets, and congratulations, Miss.”

He tipped his hat to Jane, who thanked him before he noticed the honey jars. “I’ve got some shillings here. Might I take one of those off your hands?”

It was an easy negotiation, and the shepherd continued on with a whistle on his lips. James dropped the coins in Jane’s hand. “What do you want from town?”

“You should keep this. You’ve been wanting different supplies, haven’t you? There are only so many oil containers we can convert into candles.”

“Plenty of people are kind enough to return them to me when they’ve finished. A candle jar isn’t a wedding,” he refused.

“Well I want your candles for it,” she declared. “I expect the best, and something new. Not old oil containers.”

James obediently took the coins back. “You might be the only person alive who gets feistier with marriage.”

The visit to their aunt’s shop took longer than anticipated, with it being the second time their aunt and uncle had seen Jane since she had been engaged. After a great deal of refusals to tea, dinner, and finally physical extraction, James pried Jane out of the milliner’s home.

“They were so surprised last time, they hadn’t much to say,” Jane remarked as they rushed down the avenue. “I suppose that’s worn off.”

“It will only get worse,” he remarked once they were out of earshot of the store.

Jane peeked at the rolls of lace and fabric in the wagon, the latter of which looked suspiciously like silk. “You don’t think she hopes to make my gown, do you?”

“As a maker of hats? No, but she probably hopes to make everything else.”

“I ought to return those later. Silk and lace are really too much.”

“Don’t show them to mama or Kitty. Mama will get ideas, and Kitty will take it off your hands instead of returning it.”

Jane turned contemplative, the silence drawing James’ attention. “What are you scheming?”

“Just pondering colours.”

“Other than white? Blue?”

“Charles’ eyes are blue enough.”

James absorbed that and then guffawed. The horse’s ears swiveled at the sound. “You’ll have to keep the guest list to family and friends, or else it will be the most unconventional wedding Hertfordshire sees.”

“I’m all right with that… What about a light blue petticoat underneath layers of chiffon?”

“If it is to be a morning wedding, mama will insist on pink.”

“Pink,” she repeated on a lighter note, considering.

James peeked at her. “Lace sleeves to please the aunt? Or a lace kerchief?”

“I think for the first time in my life, I’m not very interested in pleasing anybody.”

She startled at the horrified look on her brother’s face. “Who are you?”

* * * * * * *

“Basil and blueberry, then…ugh, I wish I could have the maple from America.”

“Maple?” Kitty wondered while Mary chimed, “We have maples here, though.”

“It’s a sweet sap from a particular kind,” James explained. “I saw bottles of it once in London but haven’t been able to use it.”

Jane supplied from her place at the counter, “I’m sure either papa or William will be more than happy to help you find it next time they’re in town. What’s next? I have the basil and blueberry labeled.”

James placed the small tea lights before her. “Honey and black tea. Then oak and coffee…” He looked outside, gauging the hour by the sky. “It’s time.”

Jane looked up while Kitty uttered, “Time? Time for what?”

James ignored her in favour of untying his apron. “Jane, are you coming to Netherfield for dinner?”

Puzzled, she voiced as much. “Charles hasn’t invited me.”

Heads turned at a knocking on the door. “That will be him inviting you,” James informed as he began drying the washed pans and utensils. He heard his sister open the front door and Charles’ voice as he entered the vestibule.

James emerged in time for Jane to send him a wondering look while she answered, “I suppose I’d love to.”

Charles matched her confusion. “You suppose?”

He likewise exchanged his gaze to James, who merely rushed, “William’s not with you?”

“Uh, no, he had to go further out than Meryton. Wouldn’t say why, but that he’d be back in time for dinner. The stables should be expecting him any moment—Is everything all right?” he added while James moved past him outside.

“Delay dinner by an hour!” he called, clumsily loping into a sprint, and then halting near the paddock. “Actually, are you going back to Netherfield now?”

* * * * * * *

“Stop there. I want those red ones.”

“Aren’t those roses?” Charles queried as he drew his horse to a stop beside some of the rampant branches of a wild rose. James clipped off the fresh red leaves among the adult green ones. “Why not take the blossoms?”

“The petals of this kind always fall apart,” James complained while he arranged the pile of foliage and semi-constructed wreath in his lap. “The buds would be nice, though…”

Charles peered around to see the goings-on and chimed, “You’re good at those.”

“Thank you. The tulips and ferns around your lawns should finish this up. I’ll take one of the fennel bulbs, as well.”

“You know my plants better than I do…I have fennel?”

James peeked up, but Charles’ back was turned away. He defended mildly, “That’s the case with most people.”

“So tonight’s the night, then?”

James felt his stomach do a loop through his torso. “What?”

Charles sent a smile over his shoulder while the horse lifted into a trot. “You don’t need to be prudent with me. I seem to remember trying to kiss you more than once. William is a fortunate man. You both are.”

James let that linger in the air before he ventured, “Thank you.”

“And if you’re this shy talking to me, then you certainly didn’t do much of anything last night.”

“Ride faster, please.”

Charles chuckled and announced, “The gate is just there. The landscapers have failed their conquest against the wisteria over the iron. I’m quite looking forward to its blooms.”

“May I take one of the vines?”

“Certainly. Won’t do much harm, after all.”

James slid off the horse while Charles continued on to the stables. He moved about the property, not taking any of the staff by surprise, although some did inquire as to what he was making. One of the gardeners offered some wire, another a circlet of bound hay to tie everything to. James refused both while he snipped the fronds off a dirty bulb of fennel; instead, he used the wisteria vine to hold the wreath together. No one was much impressed by his cleaning the soil off with the knee of his trousers.

He lifted his head at the sound of horse hoofs. Creeping around the house, he saw William swing his leg off his steed while a footman held the reigns. A saddlebag of soft leather hung beside the stirrup, but a rectangular basket cinched shut rested behind the saddle. Charles came out of the house, conveniently distracting William while James set the wreath around the horse’s ears. It chuffed in response, turning its long head toward James.

“I’ve invited Jane, if that’s fine?” Charles grinned.

“Of course it’s fine,” William uttered. “Was the cook able to get the cheese for the stew? James liked the broccoli and cheese last time… Why are you smiling?”

Charles shook his head with a shrug before he turned to go back up the stairs. “I just find it to be a marvelous day. It’s finally warm. Your horse looks dashing. I’m getting married. Marvelous. You recall what we discussed for our dinner arrangements?”

Perplexed, William confirmed he did, and hazarded a glance at his horse. Around the curved ears hung the floppy tulips cushioned by fennel hair, crowned in fern leaves. Closer inspection granted pink rose buds and white Queen Anne’s lace.

William jogged around the house, but James was already gone. Charles called from the front doors, “Get ready, darling. Dinner’s in an hour.”