Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Darcy awoke to the muffled sound of a hair dryer from the dressing room.
He had overslept, and he regretted not waking early enough to join Elizabeth in her shower.
She had not woken him to invite him, either.
Often, she would drag him in with her, scarcely shutting the door behind them before pulling off his clothes, his tongue in her mouth imitating what he would soon do to her body.
Dressing, he regretted being short with her last night, but she could never fully understand his fears. Elizabeth was always meant to be here in this century. He was the interloper in time, the one whose fragile happiness depended on the actions of people two hundred years in the past.
A past he had put effort into keeping out of his mind so he could embrace his full life here.
He heard giggles and the sound of someone moving around on the other side of the wall.
Sandra must be awake and getting ready for school.
She was a diligent student who would still be glad there were only a few weeks until the summer holiday.
It was her favourite time of year, and his too.
When he saw his daughter running around the estate, talking to every visitor, riding, playing, he saw a childhood more like his own, without school uniforms and iPads and whatever Key Stage 2 was.
He and Elizabeth had wondered if Sandra would want the responsibility of Pemberley when she was older.
Right now, the estate would be put into a trust if both he and Elizabeth died.
But whenever he saw Sandra asking questions of the textile conservator or brushing her pony or telling a visitor the history of the house, he thought she just might want the duty after all.
Sandra was intelligent, friendly, curious. Whatever she did, with her own trials and errors, she would excel.
Darcy entered the large room that was, oddly enough, a combination of a kitchen, a dining room, and a drawing room and found Sandra on the floor with a bowl of cereal before the television.
Georgiana was with her, perched on the edge of a chair, and although he knew to expect her, the sight of his sister still struck him.
Not only that she was here, but that the teenage girl he left behind was now an adult.
He saw hints of the little sister he had known and protected, but he did not want to know the woman who had taken her place.
Her presence still felt like a threat to his happiness, and it brought too many long-forgotten memories to the fore.
“No, that one is Bingo!” Sandra cried, laughing.
“Oh, forgive me. They look very much the same to me,” Georgiana said in a tone of doubt while she stared at the cartoon.
“You’ll get it,” Sandra said consolingly.
“I get an hour of non-academic screen time a day. We can watch another episode after school. It’s streaming, so it’s on any time.
Mummy says when she was a kid, you just had to catch whatever was on at that time and there were like five channels. And Daddy didn’t have a telly at all!”
Sandra grinned at Georgiana, who smiled back vacantly, not understanding a word.
“Sandra,” Darcy called. “Are you finished with breakfast? We are running late. Brush your teeth and put on your uniform so I can take you to the bus.”
The school in Bakewell was too far to walk, and the estate village of Lambton did not have enough children for its own school.
Pemberley arranged a bus for the village children.
It was best for the community, and all the better for him, for he disliked driving and Elizabeth could not.
She had tried to learn, but driving on the “wrong” side of the road confused her and she drove worse than he did.
And he still had to remember not to tug on the steering wheel like reins when he wanted to brake.
Sandra and Georgiana both stood, breakfast bowls in hand, and while Sandra came into the kitchen, Georgiana stared at the television as though in a daze.
“It’s not a touchscreen,” Sandra called, giggling as Georgiana stepped forward with fingers hovering over the television, peering at it closely.
She dropped her hand instantly, looking embarrassed.
Sandra put her bowl in the dishwasher and ran off to dress, and Georgiana copied her motions in a slow and fearful manner.
Darcy saw it was full, and he added the detergent and turned it on, as he would any other morning. But Georgiana gave a shriek at the sudden noise of the water and motor, and jumped back.
Rather than comment on her reaction and embarrass her, he said, “I see you met Sandra.”
“I did not know how to explain who I was,” Georgiana said timidly.
“I told her my name and that I knew her parents. I thought it would alarm her to see a stranger, but she recognised Elizabeth’s…
” She gestured at her pyjamas, and Darcy supplied the word.
“After that, I did not have to say anything else. She is very like Elizabeth,” she added, and Darcy knew it was a compliment.
He often thought his daughter’s friendliness was like Elizabeth’s. Sandra had Elizabeth’s affable nature and his confidence. She would be tall like him, he could tell, but she looked exactly like her mother.
He wanted to ask why Georgiana was here and confirm that she was returning to 1826, but he and Elizabeth had agreed not to press his reluctant sister, however little he liked it.
“Was it strange to sleep in a guest room?” he finally asked after searching for something to say.
“Your room on the other side of this floor is still open to visitors.”
“I was exhausted and felt rather ill; I would have slept anywhere, I am sure,” she said. “Had I remembered my first experience through Nine Ladies as an infant, I would have been reluctant to make this trip. But I was hungry when I woke, and your daughter made me…nursery food?”
Darcy laughed. To give Sandra more independence, she was in charge of her own breakfast and getting herself ready for school. She must have also given Georgiana a bowl of Weetabix.
“I can make you something else,” he offered, but she shook her head. He could follow a recipe, but he had never taken to cooking with enjoyment. Elizabeth often cooked the meals, and he washed the dishes. What would his mother say to Pemberley’s heir doing the work of a scullery?
He scoffed and grabbed two cups. He did not need these thoughts about his old life. The coffee maker was on a timer, so he poured himself a cup and offered one to his sister as he put two pieces of bread in the toaster.
What did his sister think of the combination of such extraordinary devices and the Wedgwood breakfast set their mother had selected?
Their personal space within the public house was a mix of the modern living Elizabeth wanted and the furniture and style he was more familiar with.
It might be jarring to some, but he always felt it suited them.
“Mrs Reynolds said not to be shocked if you had no servants,” his sister said, taking the cup with a smile. “She said there were fantastic machines that did most of the labour once done by people. You must have so much privacy.”
“No cook or footmen,” he agreed. “But someone comes in every week to clean, and Elizabeth selects the groceries she wants delivered.” That was a tedious chore he did not miss.
Georgiana’s gaze drifted toward the television. “I misunderstood Mrs Reynolds when she described the…picture-story-boxes. They are immense.”
“They’re a lot larger than they were in the eighties.” He and his sister turned as Elizabeth entered. “And the number of viewing options would astound her. Is Sandra ready to go to school?”
“I can take her today,” Darcy offered, eager for space from his sister and the memories of a forgotten life she unconsciously prompted.
“I’ll go. I have to buy Georgiana some clothes and shoes, anyway.”
“I must check on Tom Roland and make sure the man hasn’t run away or had a fit of nerves.”
“I’ll talk to him when I go past his cottage.
” Her eyes told him he was about to spend the morning with his sister.
He supposed there was no way to avoid Georgiana; she would be here until Tuesday, September 22, at four minutes past eight.
He had checked. But the less they spoke about the past or anything of substance, the better.
“Before you go,” he said as Elizabeth measured his sister to guess what size clothes and shoes she needed, “we need to come up with a story to explain Georgiana’s presence.”
“Your little sister is visiting us for the summer. There you go. All done.”
“My recovering Pemberley in this century depended on my being the sole inheritor. I am afraid a new sister could raise questions if the attorneys hear of it.”
Elizabeth grew thoughtful. “What if she’s my sister?”
“But our accents are so different,” Georgiana said softly.
“My father was British, and he left us when I was two.” A hardness hit her voice when she said that.
Elizabeth never said so, but he suspected that was why his involvement in Sandra’s care meant so much to her.
Sandra would have everything that she had not.
“My mom took me and my sister back to the States, but who’s to say he didn’t have another family in England after that? ”
“I am to be your half-sister?”
“It works, right?” Elizabeth looked between them, seeking their approval. “A recently discovered half-sister explains why no one has heard of her before, and why we look so little alike and why our accents are different.”
“And if her last name is Bennet and not Darcy, it will help distance her from anyone assuming she has a natural connection with Pemberley.” To Georgiana he asked, “Could you answer to ‘Miss Bennet’ all summer?”
“Oh, come on,” Elizabeth interjected. “No one will call her that. Everyone will just call her Georgiana.”