Chapter 84
Georgiana Darcy sat beside her aunt in the church.
it was a bitterly cold day, with a sharp biting wind chasing in yet more dreary sleet.
The church was warmer, thank God (and his rector, Mr. Mellboth, who had spent all morning lighting candles and braziers).
Still, it was not a pleasant temperature, and most of the congregation were shivering.
Georgiana was wrapped snugly in thick wool and soft grey fur.
Her gown had been chosen with agonising care, all to be buried under layers of fabric!
Lady Catherine was complaining at length of this inconvenience.
Georgiana said nothing; she knew that the raised voice was a ploy to draw attention to her aunt's equally-fashionable coat.
The older woman's complaints washed over Georgiana like the indifferent winter wind. It could not chill her, nor mar her happiness.
Today - in a few minutes! - Jane and dear Charles would be married.
Miss Darcy was beside herself with excitement.
She had a surprise for her beloved sister, and had been practicing for weeks.
When the processional music began, she watched everyone else stand up and face the aisle.
She waited, heart pounding, unable to see past implacable torsos to the lovely sight beyond.
Georgiana waited until she heard footsteps and then pressed her feet hard against the ground, her hands against the pew, and…
The world shrank below her.
Georgiana stood shoulder to shoulder with her flabbergasted aunt and smiled at Jane.
She saw the shock on Jane's whole body. The silk gown the bride was wearing shimmered around her when her surprise made her stumble. Then, with a large smile and two raised eyebrows, Jane met Georgiana's eyes and laughed.
It was a bright sound of pure happiness.
It rang through the church like the trill of a silver flute.
The chill lifted from the air. In that moment, the whole world seemed full of warmth.
For the rest of the service, with her legs aching beneath her, Georgiana breathed in that amber beauty and thought only of love.
The wedding breakfast was held at Netherfield Park.
In stark contrast to the church, the beautifully decorated rooms were almost too hot.
Jane, knowing that the church would chill her guests, had arranged for mulled cider to be served beside the roaring fires.
Georgiana found herself thinking longingly of ice-cold lemonade!
Lady Catherine, on the other hand, partook of the refreshments with relish. Already, her nose was red and her voice ever-more strident. While she expressed her opinions in everything, to everyone, Georgiana settled into her seat and watched the guests.
This was utterly different from the last party she had observed-the summer ball at Pemberley. There, she had been an outsider looking at strangers. Now, she was with her friends and family. There was not a smile she did not warm to, nor a melancholy look she did not resent.
Even the people who were strangers to her did not feel so very distant. Georgiana knew that Jane would have nobody at this party whom she did not trust.
Well, except for one.
Mrs. Bennet bustled through the crowd in a beautiful green gown.
Although the colour usually suited younger women, the matriarch looked very fetching indeed.
Many of the ironically girlish affectations which had made her so ridiculous in Pemberley had been discarded.
There was a small hint of giggling to her laugh, and an unfortunate fluttering of the eyelashes, but on the whole she looked appropriate.
Her children were still uncomfortable around her, and apart from Lydia settled for stilted sentences and formalities.
Mrs. Bennet seemed to take this in her stride.
After months of being away from Mr. Collins, she was much more amenable towards them.
Her furious tirade had stopped. Now, finally, she was reassured that she was to be cared for throughout her dotage, no matter what happened to her husband.
Without fear making her wretched, she was transformed.
Transformed, but not forgiven. That would take a long time, if it even happened at all.
Lydia had, and Kitty was tiptoeing towards it, but the older three were wary.
Even Jane, whose manner was forgiveness incarnate, was cautious in how she spoke to her mother.
There were topics which were forbidden and behaviours which would not be tolerated.
The younger girls, for instance, were not to be coerced into any relationship they did not want.
Mrs. Bennet agreed rather petulantly, arguing that she had only pressed Jane into it at Mr. Collins’s behest, and that she would never dream of doing it herself.
She blamed almost everything on Collins, at first, which infuriated Elizabeth in particular. Soon, they made one final clause in their fragile truce: that her mother must admit that she had hurt them, not just Mr. Collins.
Painful conversations were had, and tears were shed. By the wedding things were far from resolved, but they were at least heading in a more tolerable direction.
Mrs. Bennet and Lady Catherine inclined their heads and made small talk for a while. They asked after their respective families, establishing that Anne de Bourgh had been too unwell to make the journey, and that Mr. Bennet had gone home to rest after spending his energy attending the service.
Once this social courtesy had been completed, they discussed the wedding.
Their views were, on the whole, most complimentary.
Of course, this allowed Mrs. Bennet to enthuse about Lady Catherine's gown.
The clear hint to return the compliment was ignored, although Lady Catherine did concede that the other woman was "not entirely without fashion".
The women had only met once before, but a tentative understanding had been formed between them. At the time, Mrs. Bennet was sore and humbled by her complicity with Mr. Collins. She had accepted Lady Catherine’s arrogance and condescension as her just punishment for acting so terribly.
Lady Catherine did not dismiss Mrs. Bennet as easily as many of her other acquaintances.
She did not exactly like the woman, but she was curious about her.
She recognised a familiar, stubborn soul, and was intrigued to see how much humility had just been an act.
The grand wedding of a beautiful daughter was an irresistible temptation to crow.
Seeing Mrs. Bennet dressed and acting with decorum did much to improve Lady Catherine's opinion of her.
She therefore spoke to the woman like an old friend.
Georgiana watched their exchange with sleepy interest. The mulled wine and the effort of standing had exhausted her even more than the long journey had the week before.
Then, the sight of her brother had revived her.
She saw him waiting at the steps of Netherfield Park and could not contain her joy.
She had even shouted his name from the carriage!
It was very unladylike, but the shocking sound had made Darcy laugh with delight.
He had pulled her from the carriage and into his arms in one strong movement, laughing and kissing her cheek as he had when she was tiny.
Her brother, happy and hers. Himself, again, as he had been before the world had gone dark.
Georgiana knew how misery tasted, and on that day she realised how bittersweet her love for her brother had become.
It was desperately sad, an endless apology, but filled with such joy that she felt her heart might burst. She had missed this version of her brother.
The one who had cared for her had been sweet and strong and silent, but he would never pull her from a carriage in front of the servants to embrace her.
Elizabeth, beside him, was the other half of Georgiana’s heart.
They kissed each other like true sisters.
When Georgiana spoke again, Lizzie laughed aloud and hugged her.
The words had been stilted and careful, but Georgiana had finally claimed the voice of a young lady and not the tortured croaks of a desperate invalid.
That night, after dinner, Georgiana sat down beside the harp and teased out a quiet, rustic melody.
It was the first one that Elizabeth had played, when she started her lessons at Pemberley.
Georgiana’s hands were weak, but she played the simple piece as beautifully as she could.
When she finished, the room was silent. Her gathered family and friends were frozen into place, as if the childish phrases had cast a spell.
Elizabeth crossed the stricken room and gently kissed her cheek. “Play again, my love.”
Smiling at the wedding, remembering how her trembling fingers had flown like feathers after that, Georgiana closed her eyes and let the warmth wash over her.
Mary bit her lip in amusement when she happened by ten minutes afterwards.
Lady Catherine and Mrs. Bennet were drinking mulled cider and enjoying a shared dislike of birdsong.
Mrs. Bennet was describing how much it affected her nerves, and Lady Catherine was advising her on the things she must do to warn away the birds, because in her experience.
.. and so on. In their animation they were completely oblivious to the fact that Georgiana had fallen fast asleep.
Mary sat beside her friend and carefully took her hand.
"Oh! Mary." Georgiana burbled, opening her eyes with a gasp. "I… I was…!”
"I think that weddings are the only time I actually enjoy myself." Mary said, not missing a beat. "By the time the ceremony is over, everyone is too relieved to care what happens to the rest of us. All eyes are on dear Jane today. You and I can fade away."
Georgiana smiled but, with a nervous glance at her aunt, said: “I should not... fade. It is good to... to be present."
Mary sighed and patted Georgiana's hand. “I shall not argue, for all that I disagree. I know that we are not alike. My preferences are many women's punishment!"
Georgiana thought of her next words carefully. She generally did so; speaking was much easier now, but every word was still a foe, fighting her instead of coming obligingly to her stumbling tongue.
" Mary… at your wedding, will you feel so... so punished?"
"My wedding will not be for a long time. I dare say I shall make peace with it all by then." Mary smiled easily, as if she was unconcerned by the delay.
Georgiana squeezed her hand, not fooled for a second.
Mr. Bennet's stubborn will could not be swayed. His heart had softened towards his daughters, but his resolve was like iron. It seemed as if the strength that drained from his body was flowing right into his mind.
He had grown to tolerate Colonel Fitzwilliam. One day, he ever admitted that he enjoyed his company! But he still thought him most unsuitable for Mary.
The middle Miss Bennet did not help matters when she arrived at Longbourn.
The diffident mask she protected herself with made her look utterly unconcerned about the proposal, whichever way it went.
Mary was unashamedly hiding her true feelings beneath a rock-solid mask.
She had the pessimist’s outlook: if you are foolish enough hope, you will be more disappointed when things fail.
Mr. Bennet did not know Mary well enough to recognise her mask. He only believed in what he could see.
Elizabeth knew how to speak to her father, but even if she had spent the autumn in Meryton, she did not think she could have changed anything. Like Jane, she agreed with their father. The engagement was shockingly hasty, and her sister seemed utterly unlike the colonel in every respect.
Still, she could tell that they loved each other, for the present.
Fitzwilliam would not fall out of Mary's favour for the want of a few months, or even years.
She loved him deeply, in her peculiar, blunt manner.
Mary, however, had no reason to think that Fitzwilliam would still care for her after such a delay.
She had been the first to scold him for being so impetuous - and Mary did so like to be proven right.
If Fitzwilliam took back his offer, then it would be terrible, but at least Mary Forever-Bennet could say: “I told you so".
Mary also felt no obligation to dance with Fitzwilliam at the wedding, which she might have felt necessary if they were engaged.
The family were rather keen to avoid any notion of impropriety from now on, understandably.
Mary disliked social customs, but she saw their value.
While she was nominally un-attached, she could behave as she always had.
Her behaviour ought to have hurt Fitzwilliam.
It was a mark of his great love for her that it only amused him.
Mary's belief in his inconstancy was taken as a challenge, not an insult.
He had to prove himself, he declared, like Sir Galahad!
Mary rolled her eyes at this but was most gratified by the way Fitzwilliam went about his 'quest'.
He did not ignore other women by any means, but treated them with playful respect instead of flirting. He still played at cards and gambled on dogs and horses, but not to excess. He was polite and generous, easy to speak to and difficult to offend. In every way, he was a gentleman.
One day Mr. Bennet drawled, with wry respect in his voice, "If he can keep that act up until Easter then he can have Kitty, too."
The shocking hint of polygamy was enough to send Kitty from the room in giggling hysterics, followed by a cackling Lydia. For the first and only time in her life, Mary remained and looked her father straight in the eyes.
"It is not an 'act', papa."
"Is it not?" He looked back at her, then beckoned her closer so he could pat her hand.
He was so frail that she barely felt the pressure, only the papery feel of his dry skin.
"I truly hope he is sincere, Mary, for your sake.
If he is, then he will make you very happy.
And you will surely make him regret it!"
"Oh no, father." she replied seriously, “Fitzwilliam will never regret anything he does out of love. Only the things he does out of pure idiocy."
Mr. Bennet stifled a laugh beneath a cough. "Are there many such things?"
"Countless."
"Then you shall never be idle, my girl. You always preferred that, I suppose. Well, good - good, you shall be content."
That was as close as they had gotten to a blessing, so far. It was enough to give Fitzwilliam hope, and Mary dull resignation.
At least it was enough to make their world turn in the right direction.
Finally, simply and honestly, enough.