Chapter Sixteen #2
“What of yourself, Mr Darcy, hmmn? I understand you, too, were close to the conflagration.” Dr Barrow shook his head.
“The shocking news is all over the district. The whole of Buxton was aflame with the belief—if you will excuse the jest!—that Pemberley was razed to the ground. I shall be glad to quash that rumour with the evidence of my own eyes, hmmn.”
Mr Darcy declining any need for the doctor’s ministrations, their talk had wound its way to their shared experience of travel in more exotic climes than Derbyshire could boast, and hence onto the doctor’s sartorial quirks.
Conversing with a man who had seen the same sights as he had, the doctor having also spent time in Bengal, and at his ease, Mr Darcy was an intelligent and erudite gentleman.
Elizabeth watched him talk, remembering the terse, distant man of the night of his arrival. His discomfort then had made his reserve a spiky, sharp fence he set about himself to keep all Pemberley at bay. His reserve seemed to be melting as he found his place.
When he glanced up and saw her watching, he smiled.
She swallowed at the warmth of it and the answering warmth in herself, and, to ensure she did not lose herself entirely, said in the liveliest tone she could muster, “Mr Darcy’s impression of the East, I believe, was much affected by the heat. Is China as hot as India, doctor?”
The doctor’s amused response was lost in Mr Darcy’s hearty bark of laughter. She smiled then, pleased to have provoked it out of him.
After the meal, the doctor left for Sparrowhill, expressing some disquiet concerning old Mr Wickham’s deterioration.
“For you know, Mr Darcy, I had not thought he would need a higher dose of my special Chinese powders than I first prescribed to keep him calm and composed, but it is a sad truth that this ailment of his cannot be cured, and he will grow frailer and increasingly subject to confusion and irritability. He must have had a sharp decline in recent weeks, hmmn. It is not uncommon with his illness.”
“I was saddened to see him so altered from the man I remember.” Mr Darcy offered his hand. “I am relieved you oversee his care, sir.”
He accompanied the doctor out, leaving the ladies to amuse themselves for the rest of the day with their usual avocations.
Elizabeth had hoped for an opportunity to calm herself and consider how best to approach her mother, but Aunt Darcy required her services.
She pushed aside all her own concerns, tucked her arm in Georgiana’s, and all three went to a favourite sitting room.
Georgiana was excused lessons for a day or two, until she was fully over the shock of the fire.
Instead, Aunt Darcy intended they calm their nerves while usefully employing their hands with stitching.
Several years earlier Aunt Darcy had embarked on a programme to repair and replace worn and damaged embroideries in the house; bed-hangings and chair covers, some of them centuries old.
Elizabeth had joined her in this work on her arrival at Pemberley, but only recently had Aunt Darcy deemed Georgiana skilled enough to help.
Georgiana’s views on the matter were uncertain, but, obedient and well brought up, the child spent many an hour recreating the old patterns on thick Irish linen.
Elizabeth found the exercise soothing. Plain stitching was a charitable necessity to help clothe the poor of the district, and a duty every lady of a great estate should accept, but did not appeal to her sense of beauty.
The slow slide of coloured wools through the linen twill, the barely-heard pock of the needle as it pulled though the taut fabric on the frame, the careful recreation of a curled leaf, say, or a pomegranate first stitched by some Plantagenet or Tudor lady…
that was satisfying indeed. A few hours’ stitching would do much for her peace of mind and contentment.
She had barely ensconced herself into a comfortable chair with her workbox close to hand when Mr Darcy entered the room. Two footmen followed, struggling with a large trunk, and behind them was Mr Reid, who had never seemed far from Mr Darcy since the fire.
Mr Darcy bowed. “Forgive my intrusion, ladies, but the carrier has brought my larger trunks at last. You will remember, I hope, that I promised you some sari silks. They have arrived.”
At his nod, the footmen placed the trunk in the space before the fireplace.
Mr Darcy unlocked and threw back the lid, pulling out a profusion of gloriously-coloured silks: scarlet, and green, and deep blue, many heavily embroidered in gold or silver thread.
He smiled at their gasps and murmurs of admiration.
Georgiana dropped onto her knees beside the trunk, exclaiming her delight over the treasures within.
“I cannot imagine how bright and colourful life in Bengal must be!” Elizabeth took the length of scarlet silk an excited Georgiana thrust at her to Feel the weight of it, Lizzy, do!
She handed it back with a nod and a smile, remarking that it was remarkable how heavy the encrusted embroidery made the silk.
Her aunt examined the embroidery more closely, exclaiming over its quality.
“The ornate saris are made for weddings, which are elaborate ceremonies lasting several days.” Mr Darcy turned to his stepmother.
“I also bought less ornate ones in more muted colours, ma’am.
I included violet and lavender as well as a deep purple, thinking you might find those most useful for your half-mourning when you don it.
The softer blues, pinks and greens are most appropriate to Georgiana on her come-out, but you might use some of these more vivid silks yourself. ”
“You are so kind, Fitzwilliam! They will make spectacular ball gowns, or we might fit out one of the bedrooms in Indian style.”
Mr Darcy smiled. Perhaps some of his ease with the doctor had remained with him. He reached into the trunk to pull out a folded length of emerald silk embroidered in gold, offering it to Elizabeth with a bow. “This would suit you, I think, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Oh! I did not expect—”
“You are family too, you know.”
Another bow, and he was gone, leaving Elizabeth staring over an armful of the most beautiful silk she had ever been privileged to see. Mr Reid gave her a wide smile, and closed the door behind them.
“Well,” said Aunt Darcy. “It appears we should ask Dr Barrow for the name of his seamstress.”
The look she gave Elizabeth was considering, measuring; a look she might give if they were meeting for the first time and she were weighing Elizabeth up, testing her, eyeing her critically to see if she met some criterion known only to the Darcys.
It was not her usual look of fondness and affection. Not that look at all.
“I am sure we are grateful to Mr Darcy.” Mamma sounded and looked rather doubtful.
Elizabeth fixed Lydia with her coldest stare. “He has offered this opportunity, Mamma, because he was disgusted with Lydia’s behaviour.”
Lydia flounced in her seat, bridling, and turned up her nose.
“Well, I did not see it,” Mamma said.
Elizabeth did not doubt her, or that she would have considered it worthy of correction if she did.
“I did not do anything! Mamma says we must put our best foot forward to catch a gentleman’s eye, or we shall all end on the shelf. Yet she will not allow me to go to the Lambton assemblies, much less those at Buxton where I might meet more gentlemen—”
“Buxton is too far off.”
“I know, but most people prefer it. Lambton is too small, Lizzy, and no one of any standing comes. Who could I find? Hugh and George are the only gentlemen we see. Hugh likes Jane, and George never looks past you, even though you pretend otherwise.”
“Lyddy.”
“No! I must snatch at every chance if I am ever to marry. We cannot all be content to be at Aunt Darcy’s beck and call as you are, or stay at home unmarried as Jane does.
Jane will be quite an old maid soon, I declare.
She is two-and-twenty! Lord, how ashamed I should be of not being married before two-and-twenty!
I want to be married before any of you!”
“Do not be such a ninny. Marry at barely sixteen? What sort of wife do you think you would be to any respectable man? The only scraps of education you have come from sharing Georgiana’s governess, and now Mr Darcy is offering so much more.
I can only imagine how much of an advantage it will give, and I wish I had been offered the same when I was your age.
Joining in the amusements to mark Georgiana’s debut will give you as good a come-out as mine and Jane’s, and better than poor Mary enjoyed— And no, Lydia!
Do not say it! One derogatory word about Mary and I will tell Mr Darcy you are unworthy of further notice.
” Elizabeth returned Mary’s nod of gratitude for staying the insult she was certain Lydia was about to voice, and swept a hand towards the window and the view outside of fields and distant Peaks.
“Then where will you find any hope of society beyond the Lambton assemblies, attended by none but the local tradesmen’s and tenants’ sons? ”
“Georgiana does not make her debut for another two years! Two years! I shall be old and wizened by the time I am allowed to do anything!” Lydia could out-shriek a fishwife, and beside her, Kitty sat nodding emphatic agreement.
Elizabeth stood up to leave, jerking on her driving gloves to give her hands occupation and prevent her from boxing her sister’s ear. “Enough. Mamma, you agree that we will accept the Darcys’ offer of extended lessons for Lydia and Kitty?”
“I think you must, Mamma,” Jane put in, when Mamma hesitated. “It is kind and generous of them, and offers great advantage to our family.”
“I envy them,” was Mary’s contribution. “I should love such lessons, myself.”
“You would!” Lydia’s glare of derision should have set both Mary and Elizabeth alight.
Mamma looked from one to the other. “Lyddy, think of the prospects for meeting a better kind of gentleman—”
Elizabeth took that as approval. “Thank you, Mamma. Lydia and Kitty, you will attend all the lessons with Georgiana offered to you, and do your best to learn. Mr Darcy will set clear expectations, I assure you, if you are to share in Georgiana’s amusements.”
Kitty, though sulky, nodded, but Lydia jumped up, her hands in fists and her face contorted in a mix of anguish and rage, tears starting down apple-red cheeks.
“I hate it! I hate it! I hate being a poor relation!”
Oh, Lydia.
Elizabeth took two swift steps forward and caught her overwrought sister in her arms. Lydia was rigid in her grasp, but did not fight the embrace.
Elizabeth held her close for an instant, and only by exercising all her will power, did she stop herself from saying, softly, in Lydia’ ear, Oh, so do I, little sister. So do I.
She thought it, however. And not all the emerald silk in the world wiped the thoughts away.
Obedient to the doctor’s advice, Elizabeth soon recovered from the ordeal by fire, and continued the slow return to the robust health she had enjoyed all her life.
She was relieved to note she no longer looked as though she were wearing a larger sister’s cast-off clothing, and she could take her daily walks without needing to sleep away the afternoon in consequence.
Only the early October rains and winds kept her within bounds.
Aunt Darcy remarked upon her improved health and looks, tapping a finger on Elizabeth’s cheek one day. “How nice to see those roses once again! What a lovely colour you have, Lizzy, and your face has filled out again. You are looking very well.”
“I feel well, I assure you.”
“Excellent.” And Aunt Darcy sighed. “I will need your fortitude, I think. Fitzwilliam has heard from a friend of his, a Mr Bingley, who is travelling north with his family. They will stay for a fortnight or more.”
“While you are in mourning?”
“Fitzwilliam’s gift of the Indian silk last week made me think that you and the rest of the family have been in half-mourning long enough.
It is almost eight months…” She stopped, sighed again, and smoothed down the black silk of her own dress.
“Well, I will don half-mourning and the rest of you may return to wearing colours. In those circumstances, and if you will take on the main burden of hosting Fitzwilliam’s friends, it is quite proper to receive guests.
This gentleman was in India with Fitzwilliam and is not quite gentry.
The Bingleys live in London, although I am told Mr Bingley is searching for an estate to buy and raise his family into the gentry class. ”
“I have heard of him from Mr Reid.”
“I expect the Bingleys will be accustomed to grand diversions and amusements, but Fitzwilliam will ensure they understand we are only now emerging from mourning and cannot yet entertain to that level. We will find enough to keep them amused, I hope. Will you speak to Mrs Reynolds and have rooms prepared? There are four in the party: Mr Bingley, his married sister Mrs Hurst and her husband, and an unmarried sister who is around Jane’s age, I believe.
” Aunt Darcy’s smile looked strained at the edges.
“We must house the servants, too, of course—two valets and two personal maids at the least, though we should also plan for coachman, footmen and outriders.”
“I will speak with Mrs Reynolds directly. When do Mr Bingley and his party arrive?”
“The eleventh.”
“Thursday. We have a few days to prepare, then. I will discuss menus with Mrs Reynolds. As for entertainment, we might attend the monthly Buxton assembly, and there will be concerts, and plenty to be seen around the area if the weather does not worsen.”
“Excellent ideas. Do speak to Mr Darcy, though, and see what else he might wish.”
No time like the present. As soon as Elizabeth and Mrs Reynolds had decided between them which rooms were to be readied for the guests and the likely number of servants they would bring with them, and had at least the outline of menus for ordinary evenings and three more elaborate menus in case Mr Darcy felt a desire to invite the neighbours to dinner, she went, as the poet had it in Marmion, to beard the lion.