Chapter Seven #4
Being told, not asked, that she would marry Mr. Wickham in a month’s time was not a deep shock.
Jane had been asked by Mr. Darcy the previous year, shortly after her sixteenth birthday, how well she liked George.
When she had told him the truth, which was that she liked him quite well, Mr. Darcy had replied that she need not worry about attaching herself to him, and that while matters could not be settled for a long time, she need not worry about any such attachment in material terms.
Even before that conversation, Jane had always fancied herself to admire George Wickham greatly, and to maybe even be in love with him.
It would have been odd if she had not. This encouragement from Mr. Darcy, who she had always held in the greatest respect, and who she thought of as a father, made it impossible for Jane to not enjoy happy imaginations of being Mrs. George Wickham one day.
Yet, for some reason, she had never spoken about this notion to Lizzy, and she found that rather than joy, she was filled with anxiety now that she was told that the marriage would become a reality.
It must be because her heart was chiefly occupied with the terrible news that Mr. Darcy was dying. Something important was being torn from her, and she recalled all the pain of those months after Papa and Mama had died.
When Elizabeth heard from Jane that she would marry Wickham, she said all that was appropriate at the situation.
Despite that, Elizabeth had a strong sense that her sister had made a poor choice.
Perhaps Wickham’s expectations were a match for the fortune that Jane had, but Elizabeth did not think much of him.
There was a falseness to the way he talked, and a sort of repetitiveness to his compliments.
He showed little application, much vanity, and he had no proper pride.
He was the opposite of Fitzwilliam, whom Elizabeth had long set as her model of what a young gentleman ought to be.
However, this news, that Elizabeth had half expected for a long time, did not remind her about the time three years before that she had heard George engaged in carnal relations with a kitchen maid.
Perhaps if she had recalled it, she would have attempted at this time to convince Jane to not marry Mr. Wickham. More likely not.
Elizabeth considered Wickham’s defects plainly obvious, and if Jane was not to be dissuaded by those visible in his home manner and behavior, why would she be dissuaded by learning that he had once engaged in a behavior that Elizabeth expected every young gentleman to have engaged in at some time or another?
In truth, Elizabeth’s never forgotten fondness for Tom Jones, Tristram Shandy, Shamela, and various shocking stories from the histories of the Roman emperors meant that she assumed that every gentleman had intimate experience with the gentler sex, at least if they were sufficiently capable of appealing to a woman as to be of interest.
Except Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth was quietly confident that he would never behave in an immoral manner.
What surprised Elizabeth was being informed that she would move in with them as soon as they were married. Or at least as soon as they returned from the honeymoon.
“No, move in with you? Leave Pemberley?”
“Dear Lizzy, it is natural. I am your closest relation, and Wickham will be your brother.”
Possibly Elizabeth’s sour feelings about such a brother showed in a sour expression, for Jane added in a defensive tone, “He is charming, and good natured, and you cannot deny that.”
“I said nothing about him.”
“It is only that you cannot see him,” Jane said, “so you cannot know how excellent his features are, and how very good his comportment is. You would not then doubt that I am lucky to be marrying him.”
Had Elizabeth been a better friend to Jane at this time, she would have detected in this speech that Jane very much doubted that she was lucky, and that the seventeen-year-old girl spoke to convince herself.
Instead, Elizabeth replied with sharpness, “I have already given my congratulations. I do not like him much, but that does not signify. I am sure, as I said already, that you are very lucky. You have always been very lucky.”
“If I could take your eyes, and your scars, and give them to myself, you know that I would,” Jane replied sincerely. “Please do not doubt it.”
Elizabeth knew Jane well enough to not doubt that.
What Elizabeth wondered was if she would be good enough to keep the scars and the blindness if she could give them to Jane instead.
Maybe she would have. It was for the best that she was the one who had become blind, since Elizabeth knew her mind better equipped to deal with such difficulties than Jane’s—Jane would be too serene.
Jane would have accepted whatever treatment she was given as natural and just.
“But why must this make a difference for me,” Elizabeth said. “Why should I leave Pemberley just because you will marry George—you will be very happy and fruitful and blessed, I have no doubt.”
“I have no doubt either.” Jane frowned. She was filled with anxiety.
Again.
Jane asked herself, again, why wasn’t she happy? She would be happy and fruitful and blessed with George. “But Lizzy, surely you see how you must come to live with us, and that it will be better. And you could not stay at Pemberley.”
“Why not, the master of the house is my guardian, and—”
“But Mr. Darcy will be dead. Lizzy, he is dying. He is dying.” Jane now sobbed. Mr. Darcy was not present to be made uncomfortable by her cries of grief, so she gave them free vent.
Elizabeth embraced her sister, and she felt the grief in her chest. She had little love for Mr. Darcy, but that did not matter. To be told that a man who you had lived with for three years was on the verge of death felt as though she’d fallen into a frozen well in winter.
He was dying.
However, when Jane slowly ceased to cry, and thanked Elizabeth for her comfort, Elizabeth returned to the part of the subject that concerned her personally.
“But, Georgiana will still be here. And Fitzwilliam…” Elizabeth said slowly. “No, he would not think it proper. And Georgiana is still too young. I will have to leave. I see that.” Elizabeth pressed her hand against her mouth.
“Lizzy, you love Pemberley. I love the house just as dearly. But we shall only be across the way. The dower house is not a five minutes’ walk. We will see Mr. Darcy and Georgiana every day.”
Elizabeth didn’t want to live with Jane.
No.
She did not mind Jane. She did not want to live with George. And she did want to live with Georgiana and Fitzwilliam.
But if the dower house was the closest she could remain to those whom she loved, she would remain there.
“We shall set up everything so that it will be very convenient for you,” Jane offered.
“The servants shall be from the main house, so they will all know to be careful about leaving things out that you might trip on, and they will send Sarah over, so she can continue to care for you. You have nothing to worry about, Lizzy.”
“Will I be a burden?”
“Of course I won’t mind having you with me,” Jane said.
Elizabeth stood and walked back and forth in an area that she knew was clear.
“It is hard to see one’s life changed. And it must be more difficult for you.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth was sure it simply was that. She did not wish to leave the happiness that she had in her current situation.
That evening Georgiana crawled into Elizabeth’s bed to embrace her when they went to sleep. “I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want it. I don’t want it.”
“I will only be across the way. We shall meet every day. It will barely be different. I already am of an age where I ought to leave the nursery to have my own room, in any case.”
“It will not be the same!”
“No, it won’t,” Elizabeth agreed. But now it was her turn to be strong for her dear, younger friend.
“And why is Papa dying? Why! It isn’t fair. He shouldn’t die. He shouldn’t.”
“No, Papas should never die. It is not fair.”
Georgiana squeezed Elizabeth. “What was it like—when your Papa died?”
“Losing my sisters and my parents in one night?” Elizabeth whispered. She kissed her younger friend on the forehead. “It hurt. I do not remember so much anymore. But it hurt very much. And then I was exceedingly sick for weeks. But you will have Fitzwilliam.”
“What if he drowns while returning? Or what if he is shot in some duel in Russia. Don’t they fight even more duels than here?”
“I do not think Fitzwilliam is likely to fight any duels in Russia,” Elizabeth replied with a smile. “Do not borrow trouble that you need not carry.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave either,” Elizabeth said. “But I will be right across the park.”
The two of them fell asleep together in the same bed, and Miss Wilson found them that way in the morning.
However, it transpired soon that Georgiana was to leave Pemberley also.
The following morning Georgiana broke into great sobs over her porridge and rolls at breakfast. Elizabeth immediately went to sit with her and embraced her and said, “It is wholly natural to cry. It is. Do not be ashamed.”
Seeing this, Mr. Darcy had two chief thoughts, the first was that Miss Elizabeth was giving his daughter quite the opposite of the instruction that he wished her to have, and second that it would be an unpleasant thing to have a squalling child crying over him at breakfast, dinner, and tea every day until he died.
Since Lady Anne had died, Mr. Darcy had always had the notion that he would send Georgiana off to a school for a few years to gain some polish amongst other ladies of her class before she came out, and this was as good a time as any.