Fittings & Suppositions
The morning following their arrival was clear and orderly.
Elizabeth came down at her usual hour, and found the house already in motion.
A servant admitted her at once to the breakfast room, where everything was prepared.
Georgiana was there before her, writing at a small table.
She rose with composure and greeted her with easy warmth.
The breakfast-room door stood open, and the stir of the house went on about them; now and then a servant passed the doorway with cups, notes, or folded linen.
Elizabeth took her place without remark and poured her tea.
Within a few minutes Mr Darcy joined them.
He spoke briefly to his sister, and sat down without ceremony.
“I am to sit for my portrait next month,” Georgiana said, with quiet composure. “My aunt and my brother wish it for my birthday.”
“And you must have a new gown for it,” Mr Darcy said, pouring his coffee. “Our aunt is most insistent on the point. And while we are in town, it would be best that such matters be settled.”
“You will come with me, will you not, Elizabeth?” Georgiana said.
“I would be delighted.”
“You must all take the opportunity,” Mr Darcy said, spreading his toast. “It will not soon present itself again.”
“That is not necessary, Mr Darcy—” Elizabeth began.
Georgiana turned to her at once.
“But it is,” she said, with gentle earnestness. “You must come with me. I should like it very much.”
Elizabeth hesitated.
“It will give me the greatest pleasure,” Georgiana continued. “I do not wish to choose alone.”
Mr Darcy said nothing. Elizabeth smiled slightly.
“In that case, I cannot refuse you.”
Georgiana returned her smile, evidently satisfied.
At that moment Kitty entered, Mary following more deliberately behind.
“Refuse what?” Kitty said at once.
“Georgiana is to have new gowns for her portrait,” Elizabeth replied.
“And you are all to join me,” Georgiana added.
Kitty looked from one to the other with immediate interest.
“Then we must all go,” she said.
Mary took her seat.
“If it is to be done,” she observed, “it should be done properly.”
Mr Darcy spread his toast with jam.
“It shall be.”
They set out soon after breakfast, the carriage conveying them through the busy streets. At length, it drew up before a milliner in a quieter part of town, where Georgiana was immediately recognised. They were shown within, and patterns were brought, fabrics unfolded, and opinions offered.
Kitty declared for colour with enthusiasm. Mary considered what was suitable. Georgiana chose with care, turning more than once to Elizabeth.
“This is too heavy, I think,” Elizabeth said of one. “And that colour would not suit you so well.”
Georgiana set it aside at once.
“This would be very becoming,” Elizabeth said, taking up a length of pale blue silk. “The colour suits you.”
Georgiana considered it a moment, then set the other aside.
Elizabeth turned to what was offered her.
She chose with more consideration, favouring what would wear well, and bear cleaning without injury.
It was not a point she would once have attended to.
Each of them was measured, and two gowns were agreed upon apiece.
Georgiana chose more—four in all—for her portrait and the occasions that must follow it.
When the fabrics were brought out again, she paused.
“Your sisters must not be forgotten,” she said.
Elizabeth glanced at her.
“Something suitable may be sent,” Georgiana continued.
Lengths were set aside for Jane and Lydia, chosen with care but without excess. The designs agreed upon, but the work itself could not be hurried. They returned more than once in the days that followed, to see what had been done and to alter what was required.
* * *
August 1811
They called upon the Gardiners later that week. Mr Darcy accompanied them. Mrs Gardiner received them with warmth, and Mr Gardiner soon joined them.
The conversation was easy, and without constraint.
Mr Darcy spoke with Mr Gardiner at some length, entering readily into his enquiries, and answering them with quiet attention.
Elizabeth observed it without remark. There was nothing in his manner that suggested condescension, nor any effort to avoid familiarity.
He seemed entirely at ease. When she glanced at him, she found his attention fixed upon Mr Gardiner, as though no other mode of address had ever been in question. Elizabeth was delighted to see her aunt and uncle again, and was received by them with equal warmth.
Mr Darcy invited them to join his party at the theatre later in the week. Mrs Gardiner accepted with pleasure, and Mr Gardiner expressed himself much obliged. The arrangement was settled without further remark.
Letters were brought in together the following morning.
The butler presented them without remark, placing one beside Mr Darcy and another before Elizabeth.
Darcy glanced at the direction and opened his at once.
Elizabeth recognised her sister’s hand and broke the seal. For some time, nothing was said.
“My sister is well,” she said at length. “She dined with the Hardings.”
Mr Darcy inclined his head.
“I am glad of it.”
There was a pause.
“Mr Bingley was of the party,” he observed.
Elizabeth allowed herself the smallest smile.
“I believe she found him so.”
They went to Gunter’s that afternoon. The room was full, and a list of ices was brought to them. Kitty would have half of it at once. Mary examined it with care. Georgiana made her choice without hesitation. Elizabeth read it through with interest.
“There is far more variety here than at Ramsgate,” she said.
“And more certainty in the names,” Mary observed.
Mr Darcy gave the order without further consultation. When they were brought, the difference was evident. The flavours were distinct—lemon sharp and clear, strawberry fresh, chocolate rich without heaviness. Kitty declared them all excellent. Elizabeth tasted hers again.
“It is exactly what one expects it to be,” she said.
Mr Darcy glanced toward her.
“I am glad it answers,” he said.
A gentleman entered, and was immediately recognised by Mr Darcy. The gentleman approached with easy civility, greeting Mr Darcy and Georgiana with warmth.
“My dear Georgiana, I am very glad to see you,” he said.
She returned his greeting with evident pleasure. Mr Darcy rose.
“My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
The Colonel bowed, and was introduced in turn to Miss Bennet and her sisters.
“You must allow me to join you,” he said. “Pray order me something—whatever you have found most excellent.”
Kitty promised it at once.
“I have just received your letter,” he added, in a lower tone to Darcy.
Mr Darcy inclined his head.
“If you will excuse us.”
They stepped a little apart. They returned after only a few minutes. Colonel Fitzwilliam resumed his seat as though he had never left it.
“You have not ordered me anything insupportable, I hope,” he said, with a smile.
Kitty assured him she had chosen only what was most excellent.
“Then I am entirely in your hands.”
The ices were brought, and he declared himself very well satisfied.
“You have done me a service,” he said. “I shall apply to you again on future occasions.”
Kitty laughed, and promised her continued assistance.
Georgiana turned to him. “You are to join us this evening, are you not?”
“If I am permitted,” he returned.
“You are expected,” she said.
“Then I shall not disappoint you.”
He entered readily into their conversation, speaking with easy good humour, and drawing them in without effort.
They went to the theatre that evening, where a comedy of Sheridan’s was performed.
Mr Darcy received them at the entrance and conducted them to his box, where the party was soon assembled.
He took his place among them without ceremony. Colonel Fitzwilliam joined them shortly after, in high good humour.
The Gardiners were also of the party, and were received with quiet civility.
The performance began. Georgiana attended with evident pleasure.
Kitty was delighted. Mary observed with care.
From time to time, a line drew general laughter.
Colonel Fitzwilliam entered into it readily, and once or twice repeated a phrase under his breath, much amused. Elizabeth could not help but smile.
Mr Darcy said little, though he did not seem inattentive. From neighbouring boxes, he was occasionally addressed, and replied without leaving his place.
During the interval, the party divided naturally.
Mrs Gardiner, Mary, Georgiana, and Colonel Fitzwilliam fell into discussion of the play, differing as to its merits with very good humour.
Mary maintained that the moral was not sufficiently enforced.
Mrs Gardiner thought it perfectly clear.
Georgiana defended it with some earnestness, while the Colonel took every opportunity of opposing her, only to agree again the next moment.
Their voices rose a little, though without disorder.
Elizabeth stood somewhat apart. Mr Darcy joined her.
“You are not engaged in the dispute,” he said.
“I leave it to those who enjoy it more,” she replied.
“And do you not?”
“I think it very well performed.”
Mr Darcy inclined his head slightly.
“As do I.”
They stood for a moment in easy silence.
The bell was sounded, and they resumed their places.
The remainder of the performance passed with equal spirit, though with less interruption.
Colonel Fitzwilliam continued to enjoy it, though more quietly.
Georgiana attended with steady pleasure.
Kitty followed the action with unabated interest. Mary remained attentive.
Elizabeth watched in part, and in part did not.
She was aware of Mr Darcy beside her, though he did not speak.
When it concluded, the company gathered at the entrance of the box and made their way down together.
Colonel Fitzwilliam fell in beside Georgiana, still in good humour from the evening. Kitty followed with Mary. The Gardiners came last, Mr Gardiner offering his wife his arm.
Mr Darcy walked with Elizabeth. He attended to her with quiet care — handing her down the stair, keeping pace with her through the press of the crowd.
Mrs Gardiner, a little behind, observed it. As they parted for the evening, Mr Darcy addressed Mr Gardiner.
“If you should find yourself in Derbyshire at any time, I hope you will allow me the pleasure of receiving you at Pemberley.”
Mr Gardiner expressed himself much obliged.
“The streams are sometimes thought worth the attention of those who enjoy such pursuits,” Mr Darcy added.
Mr Gardiner’s interest was immediately engaged.
“I should be very glad to try them.”
“You will be most welcome.”
Mrs Gardiner listened with attention.
“It would be a very pleasant excursion,” she said.
As they were preparing to part, Mrs Gardiner drew Elizabeth a little aside.
“You have found your friends well established here,” she said.
Elizabeth smiled.
“They have been very attentive.”
“And very properly so,” Mrs Gardiner returned.
She paused a moment.
“Mr Darcy understands his company very well.”
Elizabeth did not immediately reply.
Mrs Gardiner said no more, but pressed her hand lightly before rejoining the others. The Gardiners’ carriage drew away, and the party began to separate. Colonel Fitzwilliam stepped toward Mr Darcy.
“My mother has some suggestions for a suitable replacement,” he said, in a lower tone. “She will send a list around in the morning.”
Mr Darcy inclined his head. “I am obliged to her.”
The Colonel said nothing further on the subject. Their carriage was brought round. Mr Darcy handed Georgiana in, and then Elizabeth. Kitty followed, and Mary after her.
They returned to the dressmaker’s two days later. The morning dresses were brought out first. The work was nearly complete—the hem finished, the trimming set in place. Elizabeth stood while the final alterations were made.
Kitty was already engaged with her own, turning before the glass with enthusiasm. Mary submitted to her fitting with quiet patience. Georgiana watched Elizabeth.
The yellow at the hem and cuffs was precisely as Elizabeth had chosen it—restrained, clean, exactly what she had asked for.
The dressmaker made a small adjustment at the sleeve, and stepped back. She looked at herself in the glass, and for a moment did not move. Elizabeth glanced down at the trim—the yellow at the cuff, the line of it at the hem. She had chosen it for what would wear well, and wash without injury.
She had not considered how it would look. It looked very well. The colour was lighter than she had worn for many months. It was not unfamiliar—only long absent. Her father would have remarked upon it, she thought. She turned slightly.
“It will do very well.”
The dressmaker withdrew, and returned a moment later with something folded over her arm. A pelisse—the same warm yellow, a shade deeper than the trim, the fabric substantial and well cut. Elizabeth looked at it, and then at Georgiana.
Georgiana said nothing, but there was quiet satisfaction in her expression.
“I did not choose this,” Elizabeth said.
“No,” Georgiana agreed. “I did.”
She put it on. The pelisse settled over the dress, the deeper yellow against the trim. She turned to the glass. She had not seen herself like this in many months.
She stood for a moment without speaking. Georgiana watched her.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said.
The ball gown was brought out last. Sage green silk, simply cut, the fabric falling cleanly from the shoulder. It required no ornament. Elizabeth stood while it was fitted, and did not speak. When the dressmaker stepped back, Georgiana said quietly, “Turn.”
Elizabeth turned to the glass. The silk caught the light as she moved—cool and clear, the green neither pale nor deep, simply itself. She looked at herself for a long moment. It was not for the morning, nor for any ordinary occasion.
Georgiana smiled. “Mr Ashton will admire it very much.”
Elizabeth looked at herself in the glass a moment longer. “No,” she said at last. “I suppose he will.”
The gowns were set aside, and their things prepared without delay. Nothing remained to detain them in town. The following morning, the carriage was ordered early, and they set out for Lambton, Mrs Annesley joining their party.