To Teach the Admiring Multitude Page 7

  “Eleanor! What can Mrs. Darcy have said to have you so turned?”

  She paused for a moment, suddenly affected as she recalled the long, charming conversations she had habitually held with her dear Alice. There had been something of that lost pleasure in the morning’s conversation with her new niece. “Mrs. Darcy is lovely, that is all. Intelligent, warm, amusing and forthright.”

  “I did not find her uncommonly admirable last evening. Good looking enough, but a woman’s looks are as perishable as a flower’s bloom and hardly worth all the importance so often given.”

  “She will make a fine mistress for Pemberley, and it will do Georgiana well to see that a young lady can be frank and independent and still be a gentlewoman.”

  “You surprise me, Eleanor.”

  “They will return to London after the Christmas season. I think I shall make her my particular favourite.”

  “What of Lady Patience Faircloth? The engagement will be announced forthwith.”

  “She will be my daughter-in-law. Mrs. Darcy will be my favourite.”

  She left Lord Richmond to his confusion. That a simple conversation over tea could work such a change was unaccountable. He began to believe his sister Lady Catherine had not been so fanciful to warn of the young lady’s arts and allurements.

  Chapter 8

  Sisters

  Miss Georgiana Darcy awoke eager to dress for the morning; the previous day had been indisputably among the most delightful of her life. Her beloved brother had arrived home to Pemberley with his wife and it was as though a fresh spring breeze had rushed through a long closed off room.

  When they had arrived, alighted from the carriage and entered the house, Georgiana had been immediately struck by her brother’s countenance. Never had she seen such an expression of contentment, such an open delight upon his mien. She had embraced her brother warmly and then turned to his wife, curtsied formally and welcomed “Mrs. Darcy.” Elizabeth had hastily removed her gloves and grasped Georgiana’s hands within her own.

  “No, no, Georgiana!” she had cried merrily. “That will not do at all; we are sisters now. You will call me Elizabeth, or Lizzy, if you prefer, as do all my other sisters.”

  Georgiana had turned to her brother seeking approval for such immediate familiarity towards his wife and he had nodded his head discreetly in encouragement. “Which do you prefer? Elizabeth or Lizzy?”

  “I have no preference, although your brother certainly does,” Elizabeth remarked, turning to him with a mischievous smile, for the prior evening they had held a most amusing conversation concerning names. “Lizzy is not very grand, I now comprehend,” she added light-heartedly.

  Darcy laughed softly recalling the playful interaction that had transpired between them regarding names and monikers. He had affirmed that he could never refer to her as Lizzy. “A lovely girlish name for a father to bestow on a favoured child,” he had said; “but hardly fitting for a besotted husband addressing his beloved wife.” It would be, in moments of intimacy, Eliza, otherwise she would be simply Elizabeth. He could not address her otherwise, excepting of course those occasions in which she must be Mrs. Darcy. Discussion around his name had been longer and revelatory. Elizabeth had learnt that whilst he was naturally universally Master Darcy as a child, growing into son, brother, nephew, cousin or simply Darcy, he had never been addressed by his christened name, Fitzwilliam, nor had there been any silly sobriquets or affectionate diminutives bestowed by father or mother or friends. She was determined to rectify what she saw as a gross negligence, so that a long and silly and loving rumination on possible alternatives began that concluded with warm, laughter-filled embraces but with no original endearment having been established.

  Georgiana heard her brother’s laughter with pleasure, and as he presented the gathered staff to Elizabeth, noted with what unguarded admiration he looked upon his wife when she was making a few remarks to the staff.

  The courtesies of welcome concluded, Elizabeth took Georgiana by the arm and asked her to please show her to the drawing room where they were to have refreshments before retiring to change from their travelling clothes. Within no more than a quarter of an hour, Elizabeth had Georgiana feeling such absolute ease in her company that she felt as though her brother had chosen a wife expressly for her own comfort and pleasure.

  As Georgiana hurriedly dressed for breakfast, eager to join her brother and new sister, she reflected on her great joy: at long last Pemberley was to be home. When she had been a girl at school, she had pined continually for the summer months when she would return to Pemberley for an extended stay to enjoy her brother’s company and all the familiarity of Pemberley’s rooms and gardens. She had been a dreadfully shy child, indeed remained shy, and she never felt so well as at Pemberley. Then the terrible Ramsgate mistake had occurred when she had nearly eloped with George Wickham at the age of only fifteen. She had been mortified by her great blunder, grateful for her brother’s mild reproofs, and broken hearted as well. She had grown still more withdrawn after the episode, so that even in company with her brother she was always quiet and reticent. With Elizabeth’s arrival she felt as though they were all to have a new beginning.

  Georgiana arrived to the breakfast room and was surprised to find it unoccupied, for her brother was customarily an early riser. The housekeeper soon enlightened her. “They are out walking, Miss Darcy.”

  “Walking? It is very early, Mrs. Reynolds, is it not? And cold?”

  “They left quite early, to be sure. It seems Mrs. Darcy is an enthusiastic walker and impatient to familiarize herself with the park. They left at daybreak and will breakfast when they return.”

  “Oh, I see,” Georgiana remarked, disappointed, for she was eager to become better acquainted with her brother’s wife, eager to see again the gladness that suffused his heretofore serious countenance. She wandered over to a window to see if they might be close by but they were not to be seen. As she sat to breakfast she smiled, reflecting upon her brother’s heartfelt words when she had retired to bed on the prior evening.

  She had excused herself from the drawing room a little earlier than her customary time and as she rose to leave the parlour Darcy had stood, come to her side and taken her hands within his own. Kissing her on the brow he had declared warmly, “Thank you, Georgiana.” At her evident confusion, he continued. “You see how happy your brother is? I shall never forget that you gave me your blessing when I sought it.” Georgiana had smiled and quit the room; at the threshold she had looked back and seen her brother taking his wife into his arms, heard him declare, “Let us retire as well, Eliza. You cannot imagine I wish to linger in the parlour when I have you here at Pemberley at last.” Blushing, Georgiana had quietly and quickly made her way to her chambers.

  Now as she awaited their return she recalled that late summer afternoon when her brother had come to her and so unexpectedly opened his heart. She had been sitting with her companion, Mrs. Annesley, in the pretty sitting room her brother had recently newly fitted up to give her pleasure when he had come into the room and asked Mrs. Annesley to leave him alone with his sister. As the good lady exited the room and closed the door, he sat at Georgiana’s side.

  “Georgiana, I must speak with you on a matter of great importance and delicacy.” He had spoken with none of his customary authority and she had been alarmed.

  “What is it, brother?”

  “Now that the Hursts and Miss Bingley have departed for Scarborough, Bingley returns to Netherfield and I will join him.”

  “Is that all? I will be well here with Mrs. Annesley. I am always happy at Pemberley. How long will you be away?”

  “I do not know. It will depend on others.” He paused before adding, “It will depend on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

  “Miss Bennet?”

  “Georgiana, I love her,” he had declared softly. He was not in the habit of speaking his sentiments to another, and he lowered his eyes from Georgiana’s gaze in a most uncommon manner.

 
; “Brother!” she had cried in earnest pleasure, embracing him spontaneously. “Are you engaged to Miss Bennet?”

  “I am not.”

  “But you wish to be?”

  “It is not so simple as what I would wish for. There is more, and it is a delicate matter to discuss. Were I to make Miss Bennet an offer of marriage and were she to accept me it would require a great sacrifice on your part. I cannot even consider the possibility of proceeding without your understanding what marriage to Miss Bennet would necessitate.”

  “I do not understand. What sacrifice? I found her so amiable when we were acquainted earlier this summer.” She paused, her expression disheartened. “Would I not live with you? Would I remain with Mrs. Annesley if you married?”

  “Not at all. We have always agreed that when I marry Pemberley would again be our principal home and you would live with me.” Darcy took a deep breath before proceeding. He then accounted for her what had occurred earlier that summer when George Wickham had run away with Elizabeth’s youngest sister, Lydia, with no intention of celebrating a marriage between them; he explained what he had done to encourage a marriage, his reasons for so doing, and its successful completion. “So you understand,” he had concluded, “if I were to ask for Miss Bennet’s hand, and if she were to accept me, George Wickham would be my brother-in-law. Could you live with that?”

  “Could you?” she inquired through tears that had fallen silently throughout his revelation.

  “I could for the honour of having Miss Bennet for my wife. However, I would never sacrifice your peace of mind for the sake of my own happiness. You need only ask me to remain here with you and allow Bingley to return to Netherfield without me and it will be exactly as you wish.”

  Georgiana had contemplated her brother a moment before responding. Her handsome, reserved, steady brother sat before her with ill-disguised vulnerability and longing. He had confessed his love for Miss Bennet, but Georgiana had known that he loved her from the very moment he had insisted with such impatience on taking her into Lampton to be introduced to Miss Bennet. “How fortunate to discover she is travelling through Derbyshire,” he had declared with an entirely unusual enthusiasm. He had certainly never before gone to any length to introduce Georgiana to any young lady of his acquaintance and she comprehended his happiness was indeed in her hands as much as it was in those of Miss Bennet.

  “I am shocked by what you have told me. To know that George Wickham abused of another, to comprehend what would have been my fate had you not arrived to Ramsgate when you did. I am mortified anew for the confidence I placed in him. Whatever mistaken feelings I had last summer, I am now utterly disabused of any lingering sympathy. He has no power over me; he must not be permitted to have any over you. My peace of mind is not altered by the possibility of an alliance.”

  “Are you quite certain, Georgiana?”

  “I am not so ingenuous to believe that an alliance of this sort necessarily means a close association. I am confident you would not be inviting him to Pemberley.”

  “No indeed.” He smiled, surprised and pleased by her maturity.

  “You are the kindest of brothers. Always so gentle and doting with me, especially when I have least deserved it. I wish only for your happiness and your well-being, as you have always wished for mine,” she insisted earnestly.

  “Georgiana, should I find Miss Bennet open to my addresses, do I have your blessing to seek her hand?”

  “My blessing? You are asking for my blessing?”

  “I am.”

  “You have it, my dear brother,” she replied without hesitation.

  Darcy leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon her brow. “My darling girl, whether Miss Bennet should consent to become my wife or not, I will always be grateful for your willingness to accept such an alliance for the sake of my happiness.”

  “She will be your wife!”

  “I am quite uncertain if she will welcome my addresses, Georgiana. To my regret and shame, I have not always comported myself before her in a manner that would encourage her admiration. I believe her opinion of me greatly improved from the time we were first acquainted, but I dare not hope it has improved sufficiently for her to now welcome my addresses.”

  “So that is why you go with Mr. Bingley to Netherfield, to determine if she will?”

  “I have affirmed to myself many reasons why I am to accompany Bingley, but yes, that is indeed why I go.”

  “Then I wish you success and will impatiently await a letter from Netherfield confirming your happiness.”

  After her brother had left her, she had gone to her room and cried for a long period—shame and distress returning in full weight, and yet as well there had been a final, necessary release of the secret, innocent girlish hope that not all between George Wickham and herself had been lies and deceit. Now the man who had played so carelessly with her young heart and her good reputation was in fact brother-in-law to her own brother. Presently she saw her brother through the window walking towards the house at a leisurely pace with his wife on his arm. They appeared deep in conversation. She knew the sacrifice had been small and the recompense immeasurable, for herself as much as for her brother. Georgiana was hopeful and glad. With her brother married her home was indeed now at Pemberley and at his side, and Elizabeth, with her infectious good-humour and warmth, promised to banish the wearying stillness that had long echoed against the spacious rooms and halls of the great house.

  The harmony that quickly settled between them was of equal delight to them all. There was nothing to mar the daily increase in understanding and friendship between the new sisters. If Georgiana was every day glad to witness her brother’s happiness, he was no less pleased to observe Georgiana and Elizabeth’s earnest and natural affinity. The cool mornings and the persistently rainy afternoons only served to add to the feelings of intimacy and concord between them.

  On one rainy afternoon a few days after their arrival to Pemberley, Elizabeth and Darcy sat together in Darcy’s study, a spacious, well-appointed and attractive room. It was evident to Elizabeth that he spent long periods of time in the room—for in defiance of its ample size it had an intimate, familiar air that other principal rooms in the house lacked. The intricate woodwork, inlaid ceiling and rich rugs gave to the room an inviting warmth. On the walls accompanying a fine portrait of a dapple-grey horse and a vast Derbyshire landscape, were a few lovely, whimsical drawings his cousin Alice had once made for him, as well as childlike crayons Georgiana had drawn when but a small girl. Elizabeth sat in a chair that faced one of the large windows and read a book whilst Darcy reviewed papers and correspondence he had left neglected since before the morning of their wedding. A fire crackled in the hearth, a paper shuffled now and again, and the muffled sound of Georgiana practicing on the pianoforte echoed against the closed door.

  Elizabeth looked up from her book and watched her husband at his business; there was an air of serious intent and diligence about him that she found captivating and a calm she found soothing. Observing him like this, in the place and at the tasks with which he was in such harmony, she wondered at how a man could appear so entirely dissimilar under different circumstances, wondered if he were so very changed or if it was merely that she chose to see him differently now, to judge him differently. It did not much signify, in the end, she supposed; only the daily increase in understanding between them, the warmth of their affection signified.

  Darcy looked up and saw her gazing at him with sweet affection; he smiled, a small, expressive smile, and they looked at one another in perfect silence for a long moment, a profound satisfaction at the tranquil intimacy of the moment filling their hearts. They returned their attentions to their respective reading until after a time the gentle quiet was suddenly broken when Darcy groused in a most uncharacteristic manner. Looking up from her book Elizabeth saw him leaning back in his chair, reading a letter, his expression one of violent animosity. “What can be in that letter to have upset you so?” she cried.

/>   Darcy folded the letter, his expression closed. He had neither intention nor desire to speak of the letter in his hand. “Nothing of consequence,” he replied evenly.

  “Please tell me.”

  “Truly, it is of no consequence. Do not concern yourself,” he said forcefully, almost dismissively, casting aside the letter with evident disgust.

  She stood and approached him, placing her hand upon his shoulder. “If something has distressed you, can you not confide in me?”

  “You need not concern yourself,” he reiterated, patting her hand in a mildly patronizing manner.

  Elizabeth was irritated by his reticence and insisted; at Longbourn her father had often confided in her and she certainly expected the same from her husband. Darcy offered further resistance, before finally relenting with evident aggravation. “Nothing is to be gained by the knowledge; if you will insist, it is a letter of congratulations from George Wickham.”

  “Oh!” It was an entirely unexpected piece of news. She had naturally received a letter from her sister Lydia, but had not anticipated that Wickham should have the effrontery to communicate directly with Darcy.

  “A most audacious and disingenuous letter! The man has no scruples, no sense of shame,” Darcy cried, his anger rising as he spoke. “You must know I shall never welcome him under my roof. Though he is your sister’s husband he will never again set foot on Pemberley’s grounds. Disgraceful blackguard!” he muttered at last. Thinking the matter settled he made to return to other papers.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and turned away from Darcy in mortification; her sister’s recklessness and all Darcy had done to save her remained a heavy weight on Elizabeth’s heart. She felt, if anything, a greater shame than when she had first learnt all the facts. She wandered pensively towards the mantel. Her hand played nervously with the adornments of a clock that sat thereupon.