Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
Darcy had never before had so many women in his house. He had been to house parties and to visits at his family’s homes with large numbers of women, but aside from brief visits with his sister when she was still a child, he had never had females stay with him in town. Now that Georgiana had arrived two days ago, there was more chatter, more laughter, and a need to breakfast at the table with his coat on rather than take a tray in his own rooms.
He found he did not mind.
He was en rapport with Mrs Fitzwilliam since their walk around the square the other day. It had taken effort on his part not to be resentful when she lost her equanimity, but he understood her loss of temper. Whatever had happened in Spain had stayed with her, but Mrs Fitzwilliam had shown no further irascibility with him.
She had open manners and a playful spirit behind her anger and grief that charmed him. And his heart rate quickened around her when she smiled at him or when he helped her from a carriage. Something told him it was more than a passing appreciation for a pretty face and witty manner. Likely that was because her respect mattered to him, and not due to any deeper feeling.
Darcy stopped outside the small parlour where Georgiana, Mrs Fitzwilliam, and Miss Lucas were talking. Or, rather, Miss Lucas and Mrs Fitzwilliam talked, and Mrs Fitzwilliam included his sister. He peeked through the door and saw the interested look on his sister’s face. Perhaps in another few days, she would feel comfortable enough to share an opinion of her own. Mrs Fitzwilliam seemed the sort of affable woman to invite a confidence.
Miss Lucas noticed him, and Mrs Fitzwilliam turned to follow her gaze.
“This is your house,” Mrs Fitzwilliam called. “You need not lurk in any of its doorways.”
He stood from leaning against the jamb and entered. “And yet you ladies have claimed this room as your own. I dare not enter unless I am invited.”
He sat next to his sister and gave her an encouraging smile. Would she exert herself more to talk now that he was here, or would his presence make her nervous about speaking freely?
He had interrupted their harmony, and the silence lingered until Mrs Fitzwilliam said, “Miss Darcy said this was always her favourite room when she was here as a child.”
Georgiana blushed. “When Mrs Fitzwilliam asked, I mentioned how I would sit with my sampler and look out the window to wait for you to come home.”
He hoped Georgiana did not think he minded her talking about her childhood. “And did you explain why you were waiting for me?” he asked.
She ducked her head, and Darcy said to the others, “She wanted me to take her riding because I allowed her to go much faster than my father would. It was our secret.”
Mrs Fitzwilliam and Miss Lucas laughed politely. “All children born of the same parents must have their secrets,” Miss Lucas agreed.
He looked round the room at the older style of furniture that had not changed since his mother lived. “Perhaps we could make some changes to this room? You can help me decide, since you like it so much.”
Georgiana thanked him and looked as though she might have hugged him if not for the other women in the room. “That is kind of you to include me.”
“Whatever can give you any pleasure will be done in a moment,” he said pointedly. Darcy hoped his orphaned sister knew any kindness he showed her was no trouble at all.
“Is this a common trend amongst brothers?” Mrs Fitzwilliam asked lightly. Georgiana gave a little shrug. “I do not have any, to my parents’ dismay,” she added. “Charlotte, are all brothers as generous as Miss Darcy’s?”
“Mine are all younger, I am afraid.”
They now looked at him. “There is nothing I would not do for her, but who could say whether all older brothers are as indulgent?”
“Perhaps it depends on how deserving their younger sisters are,” Mrs Fitzwilliam said. “I have only known Miss Darcy for two days, but I know she is worth every attention you can show her.”
While his sister turned pink, Darcy said, “I came to inquire how your shopping excursion went. It is a good thing I did not need the carriage today because you were gone for hours.”
They struck him with lively talk about where they had gone, what they had seen and not seen, what they had spent and what they had saved. Even his sister spoke a little about their morning, but he was none the wiser for what he heard. It was all cheerful noise and enthusiasm.
“Thank you for allowing me to take you,” Mrs Fitzwilliam said to Georgiana when it felt to him like the summary was finally concluded. “It was like shopping with my sisters again.”
With a deep breath, his sister exerted herself to ask, “Do you have to help them decide what to buy, too?”
He saw in Mrs Fitzwilliam’s eyes that she knew Georgiana was trying to be conversational. “Jane is so conservative. She is reluctant to spend even if she has the money, so I must force her to spend on herself. Mary sees no moral value in a purchase and must be convinced to replace what is worn. Kitty buys whatever Lydia tells her to, and Lydia would rather buy an ugly hat than not have a new hat at all. ”
He wondered if Mrs Fitzwilliam spent any money. The shy reserve of his sister’s manners was not at all in unison with her fine clothes. Whereas Mrs Fitzwilliam’s clothing was, he would never admit aloud, shabby in the extreme.
“Did she purchase anything for herself?” he asked his sister with a pointed nod toward Mrs Fitzwilliam.
Mrs Fitzwilliam pressed her lips together in a little smile. “You will be pleased to note that I am having gowns made and bought fabric to make one of my own in grey later, although none will be done by tomorrow.” She ran a hand along her gown’s skirt. “Tomorrow we meet with your cousin Lord Milton, Miss Darcy, to plead my case. My current garments might aid in that purpose.”
Darcy noted that the fabric was worn, her cuffs were frayed, and she clearly had an old gown dyed black.
“You do look the weary, downtrodden widow, Eliza,” Miss Lucas supplied, smiling.
Rather than be offended, Mrs Fitzwilliam laughed. Then he watched her lightness fade and a sad look settle into her eyes. “Mr Darcy, is this wise? Can I trust Lord Milton? Fitzwilliam always said that I should not.”
“You do not have to trust his judgment or commit yourself into his care.” In fact, he would say that she should never do such a thing. “We are appealing to his better nature and asking him for some money and securing custody of your child.”
She held his gaze for a moment before nodding. “Maybe Lord Milton won’t be bothered with who raises his brother’s child,” she said in a hopeful tone. “There was little affection between the brothers, and the baby will have no property to inherit, after all.”
“Unless it is a boy,” Miss Lucas said quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. “If it is a boy and your brother-in-law does not have a son of his own, your son will someday inherit a splendid fortune.”
Darcy thought she sounded impressed; the mother of the child in question, however, looked resentful. “I would have him forsake the title and all the properties if I could.”
“Eliza, this could be excellent for you,” Miss Lucas pressed. “Your child inherits a fortune through his father’s family, and before then, you can find a new husband to provide for you.”
Why did he feel it was an unpleasant—no, to him, a distressing idea that she marry again? Mrs Fitzwilliam had been married only six weeks before she was widowed. There was no reason for him to wish her to remain single. He would not expect that a widow of only twenty would never recover enough to love again.
His eyes flew to Mrs Fitzwilliam’s, and he was placated by seeing the instant dislike of the idea in her eyes. “I have asked you to stay silent on this subject,” she said in a harsher manner than he had heard her use with her friend. “Besides, his cousins might expect more faithfulness from his widow.”
Darcy shared a look with his sister, and he saw no such desire there. “Mrs Fitzwilliam, we wish for your comfort and contentment above anything else. And I would not begrudge a young woman a second chance at happiness.”
He might have added, “And certainly not one in such a situation as yours,” but she knew the truth without him saying it aloud.
He thought of his cousin and how he had left his young family in a dreadful situation. How could his cousin have not written a will? Even though Fitzwilliam would put off things if he could, this was far too important. And knowing that a battle was imminent outside of the city’s walls, and the suspicion that his wife was pregnant, how could he have not written one?
To his surprise, his sister leant forward and in a soft voice added, “Yes, your friends will all wish for you to find happiness again.”
Mrs Fitzwilliam’s distress vanished from her face. “I would be grateful to call you my cousin and my friend, my dear Miss Darcy. And when you are inclined to drop all formality between us, you must call me Lizzy, as my family does.”
His sister’s countenance brightened. Darcy knew she had few friends beyond some girls from school. “You must call me Georgiana.” She looked over her shoulder at him, to seek his approval, perhaps, although she did not need it. He gave an encouraging nod and caught Mrs Fitzwilliam’s amused little smile. Looking back at her new friend, his sister added, “What of Fitzwilliam? How shall you address one another?”
Why did such a simple question fill him with discomposure? She was his cousin by marriage, and they had decided to be friends and he was championing her cause. But how could he call her “Lizzy”? Fitzwilliam had referred to her that way from the first moment he mentioned her. From the look on her face, he wondered if she would find it strange to give him his name, seeing as how she had referred to his cousin by surname.
It would be easier to remain Mr Darcy and Mrs Fitzwilliam, but that would hardly encourage Georgiana to be more open or show that he approved of his cousin’s widow.
“What do you prefer, madam?” he asked as steadily as he could. When she did not answer, he offered, “Lizzy, Eliza, Elizabeth, Mrs Fitzwilliam?”
Rather than take his offer to keep matters as they were, she murmured, “I think Elizabeth and Darcy would suit.”
Miss Lucas had gone to the window while they talked. “There is a carriage drawing up.”
Darcy looked at the clock on the mantel. “She is early. That is the lady who will be Georgiana’s new companion. We have corresponded, but she has come to meet Georgiana.”
Mrs Fitzwilliam—Elizabeth—and Miss Lucas rose to leave, but Georgiana asked Elizabeth to wait. When Miss Lucas was gone, his sister addressed a question to Elizabeth’s feet. “Could you stay for this interview with Mrs Younge, Lizzy?”
She swiftly agreed, and Georgiana heaved a sigh of relief. Why did she need her support to meet her future companion? It was not as though he was about to leave Georgiana on her own.
Elizabeth must have seen the hurt he felt because she whispered to him, as she passed to sit a little farther apart, “Female companionship is just as necessary to a young girl as her indulgent older brother.”
Darcy gave his sister an encouraging look before the lady was shown in. Mrs Younge was about thirty and had a more hardened look than her engaging correspondence had led him to believe. But she was poised, polite, and came to them highly recommended.
“Miss Darcy, I have friends from Derbyshire. Have you many acquaintances near to your brother’s home?” she asked after joining them and mentioning her previous positions.
His sister stammered that she was there only in the summer months, and in the awkward silence that followed, Darcy added, “My sister has not yet had the chance to form stronger friendships as she leaves the schoolroom behind. But she also must learn how to manage her own household.”
“We will accomplish that quickly, I am sure. And then we will find you a husband before long,” she vowed.
“There is time enough for that,” he said. She was only fifteen. Ten years could pass before she married. “Georgiana and I spoke of her visiting some watering place this summer to meet with friends from school.”
Mrs Younge accepted his redirection, and they spoke of Weymouth, Ramsgate, and Brighton, and what sort of establishment he was prepared to form for his sister in town. He approved of every suggestion Mrs Younge made. Throughout, Georgiana answered only in monosyllables, and Elizabeth kept a watchful silence over it all.
“I suspect you will find your charge agreeable, eager to learn, and ready to begin a new season of her life,” he said when they rose to part. He looked at Georgiana to assent, but she only curtseyed.
“A girl with an obliging, yielding temper is always preferable,” said Mrs Younge, “especially for a young lady ready to marry. Miss Darcy and I will get on well.”
Elizabeth put an arm through Georgiana’s. “Miss Darcy needs time to reflect before any decisions are made.”
His astonishment was beyond expression. He stared at Elizabeth and did his best to stay calm and composed. Who was she to imply that he or his sister needed more time to decide? This meeting was only a formality to help Georgiana grow comfortable with the idea of living with a companion.
Mrs Younge saved them from silent glaring and any further rudeness. “Of course, you must have matters to discuss and need to do so privately. Please send a note tomorrow about how we shall proceed.”
She wished them a good day. As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned to Elizabeth and said sharply, “You give your opinion decidedly. There was no reason to send away Mrs Younge.”
She ignored him and sat by his sister. “Georgiana, if I overstepped, I am sorry for it, and I do not think Mrs Younge was offended. I was worried for you. You did not seem at ease with her.”
“She has already agreed to live with a companion and learn to manage her own home,” he insisted.
“She very well may have,” Elizabeth said with a disdainful look, “but she did not agree to live with that lady , did she?”
“What could be objectionable about her?” He had found nothing alarming in Mrs Younge’s interview. “She has excellent connexions and is highly recommended.”
“That does not mean your sister likes her.”
“It does not mean she dislikes her,” he shot back, “and it is not for you to decide.”
“It is not for you to decide, either! Georgiana must decide. Did you look once at your sister during that call?”
“She is always shy?—”
“She looked miserable!”
They both turned to Georgiana, who shrank in the face of their arguing. He shared a look with Elizabeth and knew they both realised they had upset her.
“I am not angry with you,” he said, hoping to not stress that he was actually angry at Elizabeth. “I thought all was decided, my dear?”
Georgiana looked between the two of them and pressed her lips together, and Darcy repressed a sigh. Just like how deciding between one ribbon or the other took her an hour, his timid sister could not give an opinion if she thought it would offend someone. Faced between her brother, who was more like a father, and her new charming friend, she might sit silent for an hour and fret.
After a moment, Elizabeth said, “I think Mister—I think Darcy wants to know your thoughts. And if I was wrong about your feelings toward Mrs Younge, I will not be insulted to be told so.”
Georgiana looked reluctant, but she wet her lips and said, “She did not appear very…”
She gave a pleading look to Elizabeth, who supplied, “Mrs Younge does not seem to be an affectionate woman, is she?”
“No.” Georgiana heaved a relieved sigh. “No, I could respect her, but I would not like to live with her.”
Darcy rubbed his temples to stave off a headache. He would not regret inviting his cousin’s widow to stay, and he was glad that his sister had found a friend, but it would help if she were not so opinionated. “Georgiana, perhaps Miss Lucas might like to listen to you play?”
She knew she was being dismissed, and she did not look distressed about it. Georgiana shared a look with Elizabeth before she left, and her countenance fully conveyed all her gratitude toward her interfering friend.
When they were alone, he gathered his patience and said, “I am Georgiana’s guardian. I am the one to decide who is the best person to superintend the rest of my sister’s education, not you. She is barely fifteen and cannot be relied upon to make such important choices about her future.”
Elizabeth did not look penitent in the slightest. “I agree she is more of a child than a young lady, but you can listen to her input and take it into account.”
“But that was not her input; it was yours . You were the one who hinted that Mrs Younge was not the right person, not Georgiana. She would never have admitted it without your encouragement.”
“Is that a bad thing? She ought to speak freely with you.”
“I still see no proof that she believes it herself, or believes it to such a degree as to make it impossible for her to live with Mrs Younge.”
“Darcy, I saw her reluctance all over her face. You know what is best for her future, but I have four sisters and, I daresay, I have more awareness of a girl’s feelings than you do. Your sister was uncomfortable around Mrs Younge, and I think it is more than her natural shyness. Mrs Younge is a stern woman who seems eager for your sister to marry, and neither is good for a lonely, shy, fifteen-year-old.”
“Your husband and I discussed this last year.” His voice caught a little. Grief hit him at unexpected times. “He was her guardian along with me, and he agreed to form an establishment in town under Mrs Younge’s guidance.”
She grinned, but there was a resolute look in her eye. “I was not a wife who was all demure agreement and ignorant submission. I speak my mind.”
“I am learning that,” he said drily.
“Of course your sister needs to learn under a companion, but does it have to be this lady?” she entreated. “I do not think she is right for your sister. If you do not trust Georgiana’s discernment, can you trust mine?”
He hardly knew her well enough to answer that. He knew a little of her through Mrs Bingley and through Fitzwilliam, but knew nothing from her himself other than she suffered as a widow after the battle of Barrosa. He could not ask her again what Spain was like. That was a story she might never tell. She clearly experienced privations of some sort atop of her grief and the chaos of a battle’s aftermath, but she had come through it stronger.
When he looked into her eyes, Darcy thought he could at least trust in her strength and in her intuition.
She looked him full in the face, without embarrassment or timidity. She was a confident woman, with an elegant stature that contrasted against her worn clothes. His gaze dropped a little. Elizabeth had a pretty figure, even while pregnant, and the beautiful expression of her dark eyes rendered her face uncommonly intelligent.
“I suppose,” she said as he continued to stare, “it was unfair of me to ask you to trust me. I know I can trust in your reputation, and you have been generous, but as people, well, we scarcely know each other.”
“I could enjoy coming to know you” burst from his lips before he could hold back the thought.
She took in a sharp breath and glanced up at him. A strange restlessness filled him when he looked into her eyes. Her cheeks flushed and her breath came out in a little sigh. He felt a rush of awareness for her as she looked into his eyes.
Then they heard music from the other room, and both of them started, darting away from one another. He cleared his throat and Elizabeth brought a hand to her hair, needlessly smoothing it and swallowing audibly before sitting back down.
Had she felt what he had, or was she mortified by what he had said and wishing she had never laid eyes on him? Regardless, it was a fleeting moment never to be repeated.
“There was another lady recommended to us,” he said, pacing a little to put more space between them. “A Mrs Annesley. She was not as nobly connected, but they assured me she was genteel. They suggested she was more of a…tender sort.”
Elizabeth smiled, now appearing calm and more like herself. “Someone motherly would do well. And if she enjoys shopping, all the better.”
Darcy smiled at her playful manner. “Did Georgiana exhaust you today?”
“She only needed some encouragement that she does, in fact, know her own mind. But she is, in essentials, a conservative spender. You need not worry that we will drive you to bankruptcy.”
He noted her use of “we.” “I am glad that you could replace your belongings.”
A shadow passed over her eyes, driving away the playfulness that just inhabited them. “Yes, nearly everything.”
“Except?” he led.
He thought she would refuse, but she huffed and smiled, as though embarrassed. “It is nothing. I had to sell all my jewellery, even my wedding band. And your cousin had given me a pretty little brooch. A crowned open heart with its tail turned to the side, almost like it was in motion.”
He pictured it in his mind. “A witch’s brooch. Because you bewitched him?”
She nodded. “It was made of paste, but it was a charming sentiment. Charlotte had to get something for her sister, so Georgiana and I looked round the shop while we waited, and I saw one that reminded me of it.”
He could replace her gowns and bonnets, and Milton could give her money to live on, but that sentimental gift could never be restored to her.
He gave her a sympathetic look and even dared to reach between them to squeeze her hand in sympathy. Words felt empty, but she seemed gratified to have someone sit by her in sadness until the moment passed.