Chapter Five
Smoking Chimneys
Mr Darcy went at once to Aunt Darcy to bow over her hand. She gave him both of hers, and offered up the gracious and dignified smile she wore when she was on display at grand events at Chatsworth or London.
“Fitzwilliam. How pleasant to see you again! Although, of course, the circumstances…” Aunt Darcy sighed. “You look well, my dear.”
“As do you, ma’am. I pray you accept my deepest condolences. I am sorry I could not be here.” Mr Darcy’s gaze flickered to Elizabeth, and the tiniest crease appeared between his eyebrows. “We have much to discuss. I would welcome the opportunity later.”
“Of course.”
Mr Darcy turned to Hugh and Georgiana. “Hugh. It has been too long since I saw you last. I believe you must be taller than me now! You remind me of Papa.”
Hugh contorted his face and let out a grunt that might, to a generous ear, resemble a welcome.
“Well,” said Mr Darcy, apparently unaffected by surly relatives. “This cannot possibly be Georgiana! I remember white frocks and sashes, not this grown-up elegance.” His smile softened. “Very pretty, little sister.”
Georgiana squeaked and blushed. Elizabeth forbore to roll her eyes at both her cousins. Really, Hugh was an unmannerly cub, and Georgiana ought to be able to accept a compliment from her own brother without expiring from embarrassment.
Mr Darcy turned to Elizabeth herself, and the faint frown he had worn on first seeing her deepened. He glanced at Aunt Darcy.
She stepped up at once. “Fitzwilliam, allow me to introduce Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of my late cousin and foster-brother, Thomas Bennet of Longbourn in Hertfordshire. Her family leases Frith House, but Lizzy lives here with us. She is our stay and support. Elizabeth, this is Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, my husband’s eldest son. As you know, he was lately in India.”
Elizabeth curtseyed. “Welcome home, sir.”
“Miss Bennet.” He bowed with exactness, and turned his attention back to Aunt Darcy. “You must forgive me, ma’am. I hope my late arrival has not overset all your arrangements for this evening. We were caught in flooding on the road, and the coach was damaged.”
“Smalldale?” George asked.
“He will not know where,” Hugh muttered, not nearly quietly enough.
Mr Darcy’s gaze narrowed, but his tone remained pleasant. “Yes, at Smalldale. The stream has burst its banks.” He exchanged a grin with George, while the tips of Hugh’s ears turned scarlet. “Reid and I walked into Lambton and hired the Crown’s gig. The coach and my luggage will follow.”
George glanced at the windows and the raindrops racing each other down the glass. “An uncomfortable walk in this wet, and I cannot say the Crown’s gig would improve matters. You must be glad to see the smoke of your own chimneys, as Homer has it.”
“Very glad, I assure you.” Mr Darcy smiled at his stepmother.
“I hope you will forgive my ramshackle appearance, ma’am.
Thankfully, my greatcoat absorbed most of the rain, but I look the veriest ragamuffin.
I have already noted your kindness in permitting less formal dress this evening, but will you grant me ten minutes to at least clean my hands and face?
Then I hope I will delay your dinner no longer. ”
“Of course.” Aunt Darcy was all grace and compliance. “Is Reid your valet? Reynolds will show him to your rooms—”
“I left my valet with the coach to take care of our belongings, ma’am.
No, Reid is my steward.” Since more than one of his audience could not prevent glancing at George, he added, with gentle emphasis, “My house steward, I should say. He has been with me for years and I do not think I can get on without him. I shall return as soon as I may.”
He bowed, and left them staring after him.
“A steward?” Hugh’s tone betrayed his astonishment.
“It is his right, of course.” George, pale-faced, turned sharply on his heel, and marched over to a far window to stare out at the estate he loved.
Aunt Darcy, her expression unreadable, resumed her seat and folded her hands in her lap, back straight and head erect. Georgiana worried at her bottom lip. Hugh grimaced at Elizabeth and jerked his head towards George.
Elizabeth sighed. She was most useful as the family’s stay and support when no one else would take on the office to alleviate wounded feelings thicker than the mist swirling down over the nearby hills.
George made room for her in the window embrasure.
She spoke quickly and quietly. “He quite clearly said house steward, George. You should be confident. You keep Pemberley in excellent trim. He must be an intelligent man—I doubt the king appoints inane buffoons as his envoys—and he will see it for himself. Do not borrow trouble.”
George stared down at her, something lurking in his eyes that concerned her: apprehension, anger, resentment… who could tell? He was discomposed, certainly. The smile he gave her was thin and forced. “I hope you are right, Lizzy. Pemberley has been my home all my life.”
“Oh, George.” She knew what it was to be dispossessed. She half-turned to put both hands on the arm nearest her, and squeezed. “You do little in managing the house, after all.”
“True.” He covered both her hands with his free one. The more troubling emotions were no longer visible. The familiar warmth had returned. “I hope he merely wants someone to oversee the servants, and the east wing roof needs repairs this man might manage… there is plenty of such work, I suppose.”
“I would welcome Mr Darcy’s blood being thinned by his sojourn in the East, compelling him to repair the draughty windows.” Elizabeth shivered to show how much she would welcome it.
George huffed out a short laugh. “I expect you would! Well, you are right to say we must wait until he declares his intentions. I cannot think the Reynoldses will welcome such a change, mind you.”
“Or my aunt.” Elizabeth glanced at Aunt Darcy, but she was intent on staring at the fire and did not look their way. “It is not unusual on large estates, is it? Chatsworth has both a land agent like you and a household steward, and we are at least the same size.”
“Chatsworth has a groom of the chamber, too, but we do not pretend to ducal grandeur here.”
“No, indeed.” She watched him for a moment. “What truly troubles you?”
He slumped his shoulders. “You never saw me at my worst, Lizzy. He did. He knew me then, and it came between us. We were close as boys. He is a year my junior, and became what we called an ‘almost-brother’. I ruined that at Cambridge. I was profligate and dissipated.”
“You confessed as much to me before, but I cannot imagine it.”
“I was no fit company for a lady then. I gambled, drank too much and… well, I will not sully your ears with all my sins. They were heavy indeed, and he has all the Fitzwilliam morals bred into him. He can have no high opinion of me, since that is the last he knew of me, and he has not seen me these seven or eight years.”
“My uncle had every trust in you. You have redeemed yourself, George.”
“I put it all behind me, but our new master does not know that.” He sighed when she pressed his hand in sympathy. “This will be an awkward dinner.”
“I agree. I do not think I should be here tonight, not his first evening home. You, at least, are related to Mr Darcy. I am a complete stranger, and he cannot welcome my presence, or speak freely while I am here.”
“Good Lord, Lizzy, I need a friendly face beside me. Do not attempt to desert us tonight, I beg you.”
“Well, I will not. At the least, I should try and bolster Georgiana.”
“More to the point, curb Hugh.”
“A task well beyond my powers!”
Sadly for Elizabeth, it was a task that fell to her within moments of Mr Darcy’s return to the drawing room, and their removal to the smaller of Pemberley’s two dining rooms.
It was not a formal ‘parade’, with the diners paired up in order of precedence processing into the room; that sort of display was reserved for the large dining room and grand dinners with the neighbours.
A family gathering was less onerous. But still Mr Darcy offered his arm to his stepmother and they led the group straggling after them.
While Mr Darcy seated Aunt Darcy at her end of the table, Hugh turned towards the head, likely without thinking, since he had assumed the place since his father’s death. Elizabeth was at his side in an instant, and tucked her arm under his.
“Do come and sit with me, Hugh! I want to talk to you about—” She could think of nothing plausible for an instant or two, before adding a feeble “—about the horse you were describing to me earlier today. Do you truly think I might learn to ride?”
She drew him away. He looked startled, reddening over his cheekbones, but went uncomplainingly to the chair on her right.
George, after giving Elizabeth an approving nod, took the seat opposite him.
This left Elizabeth on Mr Darcy’s right hand, facing Georgiana, and with, she surmised, as much notion as Georgiana as to what she might speak to the man about over their dinner.
She might stammer less, but that was her only advantage.
She was normally adroit in social situations, but she admitted, if only to herself, the strain in the atmosphere was wearying to one who was only now returning to good health.
She lacked the resilience to be her usual cheerful self.
Still, Elizabeth did her best. She allowed Hugh to seat her, smiled brightly at Mr Darcy and asked him about his time in India. If she were lucky, he would talk endlessly about rajahs, tigers and rubies, and she could nod and smile and say “Mmmnnn” and preserve her strength.
She was not lucky.
He stared at her and pronounced that India had been hot.
Oh, bother the man!