Chapter Sixteen
Silk And Mortification
September had ended in mortification, and it was all due to her silliest, most imprudent sister.
Elizabeth could grind her teeth to the bone in frustration.
Lydia’s exuberance was too much outside the immediate family circle—and often too much within it!
Mamma encouraged, rather than curbed, her high spirits, and Elizabeth had begun to fear Lydia would soon be beyond the reach of amendment.
Mr Darcy had worn his usual grave expression, the one she had come to think he donned in the same manner a mediaeval knight went armed cap-à-pie into battle. His reserve was his armour, yet his dislike of Lydia’s behaviour was clear.
She had had no opportunity to scold Lydia before leaving Frith House with her escort of gentlemen.
How dare Lydia mortify them so! And with Mr Darcy, to whom they owed the roof over their heads.
Elizabeth enjoyed seeing Mr Darcy’s solemnity brighten with amusement as they talked, appreciated provoking him into a smile.
She did not enjoy seeing the solemnity deepen into stern disfavour.
It made her feel ill, that he thought badly of her and her family, had reasons to despise them. And it was all Lydia’s fault!
Elizabeth’s palm itched to connect to her sister’s ear.
All the more so because the following day, she was summoned to the small parlour Mr Darcy was using until the damage to his study was repaired.
Mr Reid was wandering about near the door and greeted her kindly, but still she stood outside the room for a moment, reminding herself that her courage always rose against every effort to intimidate her.
She could only square back her shoulders, and tap on the door before that self-same courage deserted her entirely.
Mr Darcy was alone. Instead of the broad, substantial oak desk he and his forebears had used, he sat at a gimcrack lady’s desk. He dwarfed the frivolous, delicate item, but she did not smile.
He jumped up at once to bow. “Miss Elizabeth.”
She dropped into a curtsey. “Good morning, Mr Darcy. I hope you are well?”
“I am.” His keen eyes raked over her. “I hope you are, too. I will say, at the risk of making too personal a remark, that you look rather better than you did yesterday.”
Elizabeth took the seat he indicated. She had woken feeling much improved and refreshed, able to speak without coughing or struggling to catch her breath. But that was of no import, really. “I am very well, thank you.”
“Thank you for coming.” Mr Darcy blew out a long breath. “I imagine you know why I wish to speak to you. I am sorry this conversation is needed.”
Elizabeth did not need to cough, but she briefly put a hand over her mouth anyway, in case the rising nausea escaped her control. It was hard to lift her chin and straighten a back that wanted to bow in humiliation. This was going to be dreadful.
“Miss Lydia was very young when you had to leave your old home, was she not?”
Elizabeth blinked away a frown. “Yes. Barely twelve.”
“And, I suspect, somewhat sheltered by you all against the reality of your father’s death. Still, you must all chafe at the loss of position and importance.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth swallowed against the tight hardness in her throat.
“Frith House may not be entirely ideal, given its remoteness from Lambton, let alone the wider society to be had in Buxton.”
“It is difficult for Mamma and the girls to be sequestered from company and society, when at Longbourn we were but a mile from Meryton, the nearest town, with all the attractions and amusements that provided. But Frith House is our refuge.”
He nodded. “Both you and George mentioned the man who inherited the estate and the danger he posed had you stayed. While your removal from the vicinity of your old home was necessary, the consequences are unfortunate. Your guardian is at such a distance, he cannot oversee your sisters’ education and upbringing.
I am not sanguine about the effect upon Miss Lydia. ”
Her heart thumped, and heat flashed over her.
Was it possible to die of mortification?
She closed her eyes for an instant, as though that would blot everything out, and took two or three sharp quick breaths to settle herself.
She felt thin and frail, as if she would snap in half. “Please allow me to apologise—”
“No. Never apologise for others, Miss Elizabeth. It imposes too much of a hardship on one who does not merit it. Indeed, you are blameless.” He waited until she nodded, then went on, “I am learning that the burden of care for a much younger sister can be onerous indeed. And while I have only lately come into my responsibilities for Georgiana, I take the duty seriously.”
Oh heavens. He was going to bar her sisters from Georgiana’s company. They were going to lose everything—respect, education, opportunity. Her stomach heaved, and the sharp needling perspiration pricked at her hairline.
“I intend to find Georgiana a companion who will spend the next few years preparing her for her come-out. I wish for both your youngest sisters to join Georgiana in those extra lessons. They will benefit from the education the lady will provide, and I will ensure she sets high expectations of their conduct and manners. This will be in addition to their normal lessons with the governess and music master.”
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
“I will be blunt, Miss Elizabeth. Otherwise, I will curtail Georgiana’s interactions with them.”
“Oh,” said Elizabeth.
“Miss Lydia’s conduct yesterday was, luckily, not exposed outside the family but I recall we had visitors not long after my arrival…
the Standleys, was it not? Miss Lydia was present, if you recall, and did not behave with the circumspection appropriate for one of her age.
It is well known in the district that your family is closely connected to Pemberley. ”
It was proving distressingly apparent that humiliation would twist and burn, but not bring a merciful death no matter how much one wished for it. “You are also protecting Pemberley’s reputation.”
“Yes, but at the same time, I hope we can do your sisters some good. While the bulk of Georgiana’s come-out will happen during the Season in London, we will host dinners, and house parties, and probably a ball here to celebrate with our neighbours.
Your sisters will join those amusements, provided they show improvement in proper manners. ”
Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes stung.
It seemed he read her expression aright.
“Pardon me. It pains me to offend you in this way. You and your elder sister conduct yourselves with such propriety and grace, you avoid the slightest share of similar censure. Miss Mary, too. You combine a delightful liveliness with the utmost propriety, display easy but correct manners, and I have seen nothing from you but good nature, cheerfulness and integrity in a situation I would wager you never foresaw for yourself if your father had lived. You bear your more circumscribed life with grace, Miss Elizabeth, and I find that wholly admirable. I would have your two youngest sisters emulate you.”
Her face burned with the unexpectedness of the compliment, and with shame, because he could not know of the moments of ingratitude and resentment.
She swallowed, and managed to reply, “Thank you. It will be a marvellous opportunity for them. But you must allow me to feel the disgrace that Lydia’s thoughtlessness has prompted such disapproval.
I cannot help but feel it. And also I must thank you for taking such a generous path with them.
Many would simply condemn, and walk aside. ”
“I take all my responsibilities seriously. Please do not be distressed. Though they lack a father’s guiding hand at a critical time, I doubt they are beyond amendment. They are silly, not vicious. Will you speak to your mother about it?”
“Of course. Thank you.” Elizabeth forbore to mention that Papa, with all his excellent qualities and much as she had loved him, had not been prone to guiding his daughters. It would do no good.
He smiled, but before he could speak, Reynolds was at the door. “Dr Barrow has arrived, sir.” The butler bowed slightly to Elizabeth. “I was about to go in search of you, Miss.”
Oh thank heaven! Elizabeth would accept even a doctor’s visit if she could escape this interview.
Mr Darcy nodded, and agreed she should go at once. She thanked Reynolds, made a swift curtsey to Mr Darcy, and fled, incontinently, to freedom.
Dr Barrow was an erudite, clever man, owner of a cultured, smooth voice notable for its warmth and the slight humming noise that ended many of his sentences.
His fascinating tales of his years living in the East were a pleasure to hear.
And, of course, he catered to his patients’ fancies by always wearing the clothes of the country he had adopted as his own.
“Although I must have them made in Buxton these days, of course. I entrusted the last of my Chinese garments to a seamstress who knows her trade, sending to London for the proper silks. She manages my skull-caps with great skill, does she not, hmmn?” And Dr Barrow obligingly handed his black silk cap with its swinging scarlet tassel to Georgiana to admire.
He had already reassured the company at the noonday meal that Elizabeth would be very well after a few days’ rest. “Her lungs are a trifle affected by the smoke, but I do not think it severe enough to signify. Rest until the week’s end, is what I prescribe, hmmn.”
Forced out of introspection by the doctor’s words, Elizabeth promised ready obedience. She would be a fool indeed to risk her health by disobeying his strictures.
“I am delighted to hear it, doctor. You will understand Miss Elizabeth is a stalwart in this house, and important to all of us.” Mr Darcy smiled when Elizabeth stared at him.
He sounded… well, he sounded as though he meant it. How kind of him.