Chapter 18
T he following day was my sister’s birthday. Rather ruefully, I went to her room that morning to offer my best wishes while she was still sitting in bed with her cup of chocolate. With some hesitation, I pulled from behind my back a small package—her gift—which she swiftly opened.
Upon seeing her confusion, I said, “This must seem a stupid present.” She held in her hands a fine porcelain doll of the kind she used to treasure when she was eight years old.
“All this talk of your coming out into society has made me quite sad. I did not treasure the days I had with you as I should have. I did not cultivate your trust or your affection as I now wish I had. In this little token, I wish only to tell you that I care deeply for you, and that I have regrets that I am just now openly confessing.”
Georgiana burst into tears, and I nearly did as well simply to watch her.
The vulnerability between us on that morning seemed to have broken through our long habit of restraint.
When she had vented her feelings, I rallied her, and said, “Let us ride today, shall we? It is a fine morning. It would be a shame to waste this auspicious day. Who knows when we shall be free to do so again? Lord, how many balls and parties are we to attend?”
She mournfully agreed that our obligations were unending.
The social Season had been extended to compensate for the late start, she said despairingly, and would stretch even into August. Apparently, the hostesses of the ton had certain unspoken rules that prevented too many conflicting engagements in one evening, and an abbreviated period for society to gather was deemed impossible.
Mrs So-and-So must have her annual rout and Lady Such-and-Such must have her ball, and so on, and they must all be guaranteed to have had a proverbial ‘crush’.
As the day of Georgiana’s presentation approached, I became more anxious for the arrival of my cousin.
I had not heard from Fitzwilliam until the Monday of Miss Elizabeth’s planned departure, and in that instance, he had only sent a brief note scribbled very badly.
I had read it twice through with a light frown.
I do not know whether to be annoyed or congratulate you on breaking ties with Lady Catherine.
I suppose the provocation must have been extreme for you to lose such a cold temper as you possess.
As to my news, I have done what I came to do, but my return must be slightly delayed.
Tell Georgie I shall try to keep my promise if I can.
For now, I remain a guest of Colonel Forster if you need to reach me.
What in the world had he done? From some instinct I did not wonder what in the world had ‘happened’ to him.
Fitzwilliam did not bow to fate like most men; he unapologetically created his circumstances through action.
Moreover, that he wrote so glibly and so sparingly suggested he was not yet willing to tell me everything, or more saliently, that he was not yet sure of the outcome of his efforts.
As the days marched forward, I realised I must prepare to step in for him with Georgiana.
There are not many things I would prefer to avoid more than two balls in a night and greeting everyone with some semblance of amiable ease, week upon week.
That I would also have to keep a sharp eye on my sister throughout, intervening when she looked uncomfortable, reassuring when she looked daunted, and scowling away the dandies—as Miss Elizabeth had suggested—made for a challenging period.
From the moment of her arrival in London, my sister went regularly to Lady Matlock’s house, but now, as the Queen’s birthday approached and preparations were made final, she went every day but Sunday.
She had a dancing master and the advice of a handful of dowagers that hung on my aunt for the sake of their own consequence.
Thus, she was properly schooled on every detail of what she must and must not do, and—as is every girl on the eve of her coming out into society must be—she was also taught to be properly terrified of failure.
It was a regrettable business, really, but one she could not escape.
This ritual was the price paid for her wealth, connexions, and her birth.
We did not talk of it. This was not to say I was unwilling to counsel and reassure her, but it was she who seemed to be striving to bear up by refusing to openly fret. In this I realised that I truly value a woman who does not complain easily.
Still, there is only so much anxiety a person should be forced to contain, and one day over tea, when Mrs Annesley stepped out to retrieve her needlework, I said, “If Fitzwilliam does not arrive in time, you will have to make do with your very awkward brother.”
She looked at me a little surprised and replied in her usual halting fashion, “ You are never awkward.” Writ on her face was her principal belief—that it was she who was perpetually out of step.
With a faint smile, I replied, “Perhaps you say so because you have not been out and have not seen me standing uncomfortably at the periphery of a ball.”
This properly caught her attention and so I said, “Listen to me, Georgiana. You do not have to take the world by storm, you know. In the end, this is a simple business. You are brought out into society. All of this talk of matches and marriage—which I assume is all you ever hear from our aunt—does not need to apply to or even interest you. Not yet. I am not in a hurry to hand you and your fortune to just anyone deemed suitable, you know. I would rather see you happy.”
She had been searching my face with large eyes as I spoke, and I hastened to add, “I have been labelled as disagreeable and proud, and even worse things besides, and as you see,” I gestured downwards to my body in the chair, “I remain intact.”
There was more I wished to say on the subject, such as how the critical observations of someone whose opinion matters must be an exception.
That must be a lesson in how a person’s character can be improved upon.
But she had absorbed enough, and besides, Mrs Annesley came back into the room, and I could not continue to speak to her privately.
Soon after my attempt to reassure her, we were swept along in the strong current of a critical social Season.
Fitzwilliam wrote to Georgiana at the very last moment.
He could not come for her presentation, he said, and he was terribly sorry to fail her.
But there was nothing to be done for it save to apologise, which he knew was worth nothing in this case.
He expressed his belief in her, and added that he hoped to arrive soon to at least squire her through the town for half a dozen balls before the ton broke apart.
He would, he said, make up for his absence however she wished, even if she required him to sit through twenty recitals of ancient music.
In any other circumstance, I would have then and there dropped my commitments and left for Hertfordshire with all four horses at a strong gallop.
But I could not go, and further, I could not show how worried I was as to my cousin’s situation.
I had a deep suspicion of what had happened; however, I refused to ruminate upon it, and instead, pretended to be unconcerned.
Even Lady Matlock, who approached me directly after Georgiana had made her bows to the Queen, could not move me from my determination to shield my cousin as much as I could. He did not want me to know what had befallen him and would so much less want his mother to know.
“Well, Darcy?” she said. “Your sister did well enough.”
“She did indeed, ma’am.”
“And that is even without my youngest son to help her.”
“Thankfully, she had the rest of her family and did not lack for support.”
My reply had been a touch cold. I could not manufacture a warmth I did not feel.
My cousin Alfred, Fitzwilliam’s older brother and heir to an earldom, was a right selfish soul.
He had married an equally self-interested lady, and in truth, Lord Matlock and his countess, though they were our aunt and uncle, had never really held my sister and me in affection.
Our family ties were more in the nature of expectation, and we only had closeness with Fitzwilliam because he mattered so much less to his parents than did his brother.
Lady Matlock sniffed and pursed her lips, having surely heard the perfunctory tone in which I had replied, and then she asked in a petulant manner, “Well, where is he, then? Why is my other son not here?”
“He is on business with the militia, I believe. But I have been remiss. May I thank you again for seeing Georgiana so well launched?”
“I do not know who else would have done it,” she said ungraciously.
Then perhaps because I had failed to lavish her with additional gratitude and compliments, she said, “And you? I understand you have behaved badly with regard to Anne. I suppose you have some other lady in mind. I am sure Matlock will have words with you about it.”
“I do not know how I could be accused of behaving badly towards my cousin. I have never given anyone the slightest cause for their expectations for a match there, and in the case of a girl who has never had the strength to be properly presented herself—who is not here, and is at home with her mother who also does not come to support her only niece—I do not understand why anyone would think of it.”
Having successfully silenced my aunt, we remained standing together and pretending complacence as we watched Georgiana politely making her way through the gauntlet of notables. When at last she saw us, I stepped forwards and smiled down at her anxious face.
“You see?” I murmured. “You did not fall. Well done.”