Chapter 82
Mr. Collins was the first one to leave Pemberley, banished on the oldest carriage Darcy could provide. It was sure to rattle the man’s broken toe all the way to Hunsford, but at least they would be sure he would arrive.
The rector was tearfully grateful to be going back there at all, after he sobered up enough to understand how close he had come to banishment to some lesser parish.
He had no notion that Lady Catherine was keeping him under her eye to make sure he did not have the opportunity to do anything worse.
While he was nearby, she could control his every move.
Should Longbourn be made available to him, Lady Catherine said sternly, he was to allow the Bennets to stay there as lodgers for as long as they wished.
Rosings Park would bear the expense, for the sake of keeping the rector in his parish for a few more years.
Should he decide to break this arrangement then she would ensure that everyone in Meryton knew how pathetic he truly was.
He would spend his time there as a laughing stock, and never again be taken seriously.
Lady Catherine also assured the family that, if Collins ever courted another woman, he would treat her with at least a modicum of respect.
The man’s scathing comments about Delilahs and Eves had hit rather close to home.
The future Mrs. Collins would have a very determined protectress, although agreeing to marry Collins would mean she would never be worthy of Lady Catherine’s respect.
Mrs. Bennet was the next one to leave. She parted in a much different manner to her erstwhile accomplice. She had only been in Pemberley for a few days, yet the things she had witnessed there had broken her firmly from the delusion that Mr. Collins had smothered her in.
She had seen for herself that Darcy, although stern and distant, was no drunken beast. The sight of her daughters, utterly transformed under Elizabeth’s gentle care, made her realise how terrible their life had been in Meryton.
Jane’s love for Bingley had been impossible to ignore, and was so pure that even their elopement had not horrified her.
Most of all, Mrs. Bennet’s love for Lydia had made her realise that, for a year, she had only thought about the girls as responsibilities and not as her children. That, combined with the shocking conduct of the increasingly deranged Collins, made her utterly ashamed of her behaviour.
It was obvious now that the family was safe without Mr. Collins’s help, and that the assurances that Darcy had made to Mr. Bennet had not been lies, as Collins claimed.
They had been trying to convince her of that, but she had been too angry to hear it as anything other than a conspiracy against her.
Her explanation to Lady Catherine was humble; her apology to her family was heartfelt.
She told them that she was going home at once to try to set her home in order, and to be with her husband as his caring wife, not as a frightened widow.
Since Bingley and Fitzwilliam would be staying in Netherfield Park, she would be able to get to know them more charitably and, hopefully, heal some of the wounds between them.
Mary at once offered to join her on the journey.
The only condition she made was that Elizabeth let her choose some books from Pemberley’s library to take with her.
She was eager to see Fitzwilliam again, having found her few days without him undeniably tedious.
Mrs. Bennet was grateful for the company - and ecstatic when Lydia and Kitty asked to come, too.
Mary soured at this, for it meant that the carriage would be very crowded, but on the whole the party was quite cheerful. The younger girls missed their home and their friends, not to mention their father, and did not want to miss out on all of the gossip about Jane and Mary’s engagements.
If they had remained in Pemberley for another day, then Elizabeth would have been able to provide some of that gossip for them. Jane had promised to write to her as soon as things were settled; finally, it had arrived.
My dear Elizabeth,
With all of my heart, I am sorry for the delay in sending you this letter. I know that you must have been waiting impatiently for news. My silence was unavoidable, yet when I tell you the cause I hope you shall forgive me.
First, I must set your mind at ease!
Father agreed to the marriage between myself and Charles, and has assured us that no other voices shall drown him out.
He is very unwell, my love. I was truly frightened to see the transformation that even a month's absence has allowed.
Yet his mind is hale, on the better days, and he is as stubborn as he ever was.
He expressed a desire to see you, Lizzie.
I suggested that you might use the wedding for a chance at reconciliation - if that is what you wish.
I know that you were always very close to papa, and he misses you keenly.
While sentimentality cannot erase his bad choices this past year, I feel that we should make allowances for his ill health and desire to see to our family’s security before it is beyond his reach.
But that is my opinion, dearest, not a fact. I would not fault you for continuing your silence.
Now, as to my delay:
On the day we arrived in Longbourn - indeed, to the very hour! - we were joined by Colonel Fitzwilliam. He, like us, had come to ask our father for his blessing.
Elizabeth, can you guess? Father said no.
His reasons were, I am afraid to say, extremely sensible. He cut to the heart of the matter at once. Mary has known Fitzwilliam for barely a month. A month! So much has happened that it feels as if he has been part of our lives forever! Yet a month it has been.
Father said that its all couples must allow themselves enough time for "the infatuation to fade", which he said should be written as the eleventh commandment!
There were references to secrets and illusions, thoughtless vows and years of regret.
Then he told poor Fitzwilliam to read Shakespeare's 130?? Sonnet.
Oh, it was so humiliating to see him lecture, but you know how pompous and muddled his thoughts become.
Father told Fitzwilliam that when he can honestly describe Mary's flaws, then he will start to believe that she will be respected.
Oh, how glad I am that Mary did not hear that! You must not tell her, my love.
The terrible thing is that I know what papa means.
Fitzwilliam danced into the study declaring Mary beautiful and flawless and all manner of flatteries, loud enough for the whole house to hear him.
Papa called me in before he answered, to give an account of Mary's thoughts. That is how I heard the rest.
Fitzwilliam could not have convinced father more that he is a shallow, inconstant swain with an impetuous flair.
Can you picture Mary with a man like that? Certainly, father could not.
In his ardour and haste, Fitzwilliam has made a grave misstep.
I am trying to explain matters to father, but it is taking time. Father feels as if he has made too many poor judgements recently, and is resolved that he shall not make another.
I had delayed this letter in the hope of his acceptance, but it seems that it will take a long time to come about. Instead, dear Lizzie, you must be satisfied with only one sister's happiness - at present.
We are planning to stay in Meryton while preparations are made for the wedding.
While you know that I would not delay that blissful moment, we thought it sensible to wait for a few months.
The haste of your wedding is still much talked of, and I would not like to be chased away from my home by unwarranted gossip.
It feels strange to be home, Lizzie. Even to think of it as ‘home’ is peculiar to me, for it has felt like a cage for so long. The building, certainly, does not matter. I was all-but sold for the sake of these bricks, and have no attachment to them at all. I would tear them, if I could.
Nor does Netherfield Park feel like a home, even though I am spending most of my time there.
Bingley has insisted that I learn as much as possible about the estate before it becomes my own.
It is an excuse which convinced dear papa to let me spend most of my time away from home, albeit with a chaperone.
(Before you pull a face, I assure you, Lizzie, that even if I were not chaperoned, I would act with proper decorum. Dear Charles and I are content to wait until our wedding night, now that we know it will surely arrive).
Home, I think, has found me outside of the buildings. I am home, because I am where I am supposed to be, with people who love me. This is my home, and I am glad of it. For a while Pemberley was my home, and I thank you so much for that, my dear sister.
I hope you will not be offended if I remain here, now, instead of returning to you? I know that we thought of an immediate return, but the danger we anticipated has not come to pass, and I feel safe. This is where my life will begin, and I shall not enter it as a stranger.
There is much to do! I shall learn how to be a bride, since I was such an abject failure as a daughter.
And you, I think, will enjoy having some solitude to do the same. Please give Mr. Darcy my best wishes.
My love to Georgiana, and all of my sweetest prayers for you all. I shall see you when the snow starts to fall.
Jane
Elizabeth could not read this aloud, of course, but she summarised it as well as she could. When it became clear that Jane would not be returning to Pemberley for some time, Georgiana started to cry.
“Hush, dearest.” Elizabeth cooed, putting down the letter at once to clutch her little sister’s hands. “We shall take you to the wedding. You shall see her then. Until then, darling, we can choose you a dress, and you can help me with music, and…”
“No.” Lady Catherine spoke abruptly. Lizzie flinched and looked up to see the most majestic lip-dabbing she had ever witnessed in her life. When every crumb of toast had been banished, Lady Catherine put down her napkin and explained. “Georgiana is coming to Rosings Park with me.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Seeing this, and the immediate argument on her nephew’s lips, Lady Catherine smiled thinly.
“She has been spoiled here. She needs to learn to stand on her own feet. Perhaps not literally, but certainly in a way that you seem disinclined to allow. I refuse to let her hide and make excuses when she should be bettering herself. No, she shall come home with me and stay until Christmas. Anne will be good company for her, and shall not allow her to wallow. There is a difference between accepting our new limitations and allowing ourselves to rot. Georgiana must begin anew - and I shall help her. Goodness knows I have done little enough for her so far.”
Elizabeth was exasperated, “You cannot simply decide these things for her, Lady Catherine!”
“Oh, I did not. I asked her last night. Georgiana, dear, please stop this ridiculous sulking and explain to your brother’s wife that she has once again misjudged the situation.”
“Y…yes.” Georgiana said quietly. “I… want… to go.”
Darcy frowned, “The journey may be too taxing for you. Are you ready to leave home, my love?”
The young girl smiled at him. There was no fear there, as there had been the day her brother had carried her out of sight of the house. There was a new determination which glowed from her eyes like a candle.
“But!” Georgiana announced with a shaking grin, “I will… go to… wedding.”
“Hmm.” Lady Catherine looked down her nose at her niece, scowling, and then surrendered with a rueful shrug, “We shall see.”
The bags were packed that afternoon. At sunset, Elizabeth sat beside Georgiana in her bedroom, holding her hand as she always had.
Now, Georgiana could move it with barely a tremor.
She nestled against Elizabeth’s shoulder and smiled.
Then, with a sharp inhalation, she pushed herself upright.
Shuddering with effort, smiling into Elizabeth’s amazed eyes, she raised her hand and slowly, carefully, caught the lowest string of the harp.
It rang out, untuned and resonant, filling the room with music and banishing the crushing silence forever.
“Oh, my love,” Elizabeth breathed, kissing the girl’s still-outstretched hand, “I shall miss you.”
“Me too.” Georgiana smiled and settled back against her, “I… always… wanted… a sister.”