Chapter Eleven #2
He hesitated. He had a particular object in mind that involved visiting the Bennets, but the recollection of Mrs Bennet held him back.
He had expected a widow with five daughters would be energetic in putting them before his notice, but the day they had visited Pemberley, weeks ago now, she had been worse than he had imagined.
The vulgarity of the woman, almost pandering her eldest daughter, and chastising Miss Elizabeth for no more than that lady’s usual sparkling conversation which, had, in fact, made the visit of the Bennets and Standleys more bearable…
well, it gave him something of a disgust of his tenant.
At the same time, he wanted to understand the family better.
Were those younger girls fit companions for his sister?
The coarseness Lydia had displayed during the Standley’s visit was unacceptable, and he would put an end to the association with Georgiana in an instant if she showed signs of adverse influence from her Bennet cousins.
The Michaelmas dinner would give him the opportunity to observe the girls and make a more reasoned judgement of their characters.
And to do that, he must visit Frith House.
“I merely came over because today is quarter day.”
She inclined her head with solemnity. “It is, sir.”
“I understand from George that he normally visits Mrs Bennet on quarter days after he has collected the other rents. Would it, in your view, be acceptable for me to go with George tomorrow?” Darcy attempted a smile. “He spoke highly of her Michaelmas goose.”
“The best I have ever had,” George said. “I always enjoy your mother’s hospitality, Lizzy.”
A flickering glance showed that Hugh had straightened so abruptly he had to snatch at the pile of music before it cascaded to the floor.
Beyond him, in the main part of the drawing room, Mrs Darcy put aside her embroidery, and stared towards the pianoforte, her attention perhaps caught by Hugh’s convulsive movement, but her expression difficult to read.
Hugh, by contrast, contracted his brow into a deep frown, and his downturned mouth looked tense.
Miss Elizabeth was all polite complaisance. “I should think she would be delighted, sir. My mother enjoyed entertaining a great deal when we were at Longbourn, and she values Mr Wickham’s visits.”
Darcy grimaced, hesitated, then said, “I would not wish her to read into my visit anything more than… well, I hope I am not an overbearing landlord, and do not mean to cause her any concern on that head.”
Miss Elizabeth looked quickly down at the keyboard, and when she looked up again, her expression was bland. “My mother has taken some time to adjust to different circumstances, sir. If it is a matter of business to do with the lease, then Jane and I are better placed to discuss it on her behalf.”
“Nothing like that, I assure you. I merely wish—”
“To impose upon my cousins,” Hugh cut in, tone harsh and angry. “What do you think you are about? I will not have it!”
Darcy glanced at Hugh and away again before he could give way to the impulse to box the insolent cub’s ears. “I merely wish to pay my respects to a valued tenant.”
“And we know which one!” Hugh showed his teeth, as if ready to rip and rend.
Miss Elizabeth started, losing her place in the music and bringing it to a discordant halt. She looked from one to the other. “What?”
“Be still, you young cawker!” George snapped out. “Be still!”
“Hugh, if you doubt my intentions towards any of your cousins, then come to Frith House tomorrow. But be very clear, I will not accept any comments from you on my conduct. That is outside of enough.” Darcy did not raise his voice as Hugh had, but was colder than winter. How dare the boy? How dare he!
“Fitzwilliam. Hugh.” Mrs Darcy had approached without his noticing. “I do not appreciate raised voices in my drawing room. This is not the place for discord.”
Hugh snorted, but looked away. Beyond Mrs Darcy, Georgiana stared, mouth open and eyes wide. She must have stabbed herself with a needle, because she raised a finger to her mouth to suck against the side of it.
This was an unconscionable scene before the ladies, especially one as young and timid as Georgiana.
Darcy turned to his stepmother and bowed over her hand.
“Forgive me, ma’am. It is a small matter upon which Hugh and I have disagreed.
It is too bad of us to quarrel here. Perhaps if Hugh does go to Frith House tomorrow, his concerns will be allayed. ”
Mrs Darcy’s mouth tightened. “That would be best, I think. Hugh?”
Hugh’s only answer was a sharp nod, then, without formal leave-taking, he turned abruptly on his heel and marched out of the room, his face red. His mother watched him go. Hugh banged the door closed.
Darcy turned to George. “When you leave tomorrow for Frith House, let me know. I will be ready.” A short bow. “Miss Elizabeth. I would be glad if you resumed your playing. It is very pleasing.”
She opened her mouth, and closed it, the words unsaid. What must she feel, observing such unrestrained behaviour and poor manners! It was all he could do not to go after Hugh and throw him bodily out of Pemberley.
“Please do, Lizzy. Do come and sit with us, Fitzwilliam.” His stepmother put her hand onto his arm, and drew him back to the fire. He allowed it.
Behind him, after a moment’s hesitation, Miss Elizabeth began to play.
The entire family spent an uncomfortable evening.
Hugh did not reappear. His mother’s anxiety was betrayed by every small start she made whenever a servant appeared over dinner or in the drawing room after, every searching look—her smooth face and untroubled expression were as much a facade as Pemberley’s icily regular north frontage.
George was quiet and brooding, speaking seldom.
Miss Elizabeth did not carry out her usual office of helping along the conversation, and it halted and stuttered without her steering the company into a semblance of sociability.
Darcy missed her ease and wit, but she appeared preoccupied, her normal brightness dimmed.
Georgiana… well, she was always quiet and diffident, and if she felt the undercurrents of unease and turmoil, she did not mention it, but scuttled off to bed after dinner when her mother bade her go, giving off a decided air of relief.
A most unpleasant evening indeed, and Darcy suspected everyone was grateful when it was brought to a close.
His stepmother spoke softly to Reynolds before crossing the hall and ascending the main stairs.
Miss Elizabeth, delayed for a moment giving some quiet order to a waiting footman, increased her pace to catch up with Mrs Darcy and went upstairs with her.
She moved swiftly, her skirts billowing slightly around her light, pleasing figure.
Darcy and George both stopped beside Reynolds.
“Mr Hugh?” Darcy asked.
“Still out, sir, as I told the mistress. When he returns, the duty groom knows to send word to the night footman. Mrs Darcy asked to be told as soon as Mr Hugh is home, no matter the hour.”
“Good. Thank you.”
“That boy’s temper will be his undoing,” George murmured, shaking his head.
Darcy turned to him. “I will go to my study for a while, I think. Do you go to bed, George. It will be a long day tomorrow.”
“Quarter day always is. Are you sure you do not want company?”
“No, thank you. Go and rest. Yours is the greater part tomorrow, after all. Good night.”
George nodded, and followed the ladies upstairs. Reynolds awaited his own dismissal with the dignity only a respected butler could display, bowing deeply when Darcy sent him on his way.
Five minutes outside on the terrace to clear his head and apostrophise Hugh to the uncaring stars as the most disobliging young fool in creation, and, leaving the waiting footman to lock the doors then yawn his way to bed, Darcy went to the library.
Books were the best remedy he knew when his world was awry.
He found Reid there, ensconced in one of the large chairs near the large bay window, book tilted towards the light of a candelabrum, a profusion of papers scattered on the table at his elbow.
“Did you accept this post because of the library, Reid?”
“Had I known of it, I might have done.” Reid gave him a measuring look over the top of his book. “Do you wish me to leave you to yourself, sir? You have the look of a man needing to lose himself in a good book.”
“No, stay.” Darcy took the seat opposite, and settled himself in. “Talk to me instead. What are you about?”
Reid nodded to the papers. “I have completed my survey of the roof and attics, and am drawing this up for you to see. Parts of this house are crying out for refurbishment, sadly neglected over the years. The roof is the least of it.”
“Working on the Day of Rest, Reid? What would John Knox say?”
“I’m no Calvinist, sir, but if Knox has aught to say at all after two hundred and fifty years in the ground, perhaps I ought to reconsider my religion.” Reid’s sly smile was infectious.
Darcy laughed, amused for the first time in hours, and held out his hand for the papers. “Shall we look at them?”
“From which, I’m guessing you are no Calvinist either.”
Darcy spread out the papers on his knees. “No, indeed. Though I shall salve my conscience over working on a Sunday by declaring this is not true work. I will make no decisions and give no orders, but merely study the fruits of your labours.”
If nothing else, it might distract him from Hugh’s ill-tempered freaks.
“Sophistry,” mocked Reid, and Darcy could only agree.