Chapter 16 Invitation to Darcy House
The Gardiner’s butler entered the drawing room.
“Ma’am, this was delivered by a personal servant of Mr. Darcy.”
As Madeline took the note, Edward Gardiner asked, “Mr. Darcy? Maddie, is this one of the gentlemen you met in the park?”
“Yes. His sister is quite taken with our Lizzy.” Her eyes scanned down the missive, then she added, “He sends his apologies and explains that he is traveling north and will not be able to escort the girls to Hatchards or to Gunter’s.”
Mr. Gardiner’s brows lifted. “He is very punctilious.”
“He is,” she agreed. “Reserved and exceedingly proper.”
She handed the note to her husband. When he had finished reading, he gave it to Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy was leaving, and she could not deny her disappointment. After she read the brief message, she brightened. He meant to return, and he wished to further the acquaintance.
Four days later, as they sat at breakfast, Rogers entered with a silver tray bearing three letters. Mr. Gardiner examined them, then paused over one in particular. With a look of curiosity, he lifted it and handed it to his niece.
“Lizzy, I did not know you had an acquaintance here in London.”
Jane ventured, “Perhaps it is from Miss Bingley.”
“And addressed to me? No, Jane, it cannot be from Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
“It is from Miss Darcy.”
Miss Elizabeth,
If you are not otherwise engaged, would you and Miss Bennet visit with me this afternoon? Perhaps we might read together. I have obtained a new book, a Gothic romance filled with secret societies and dreadful ambition, which may interest us.
Fitzwilliam warns that it may prove somewhat improper, though he trusts that I shall set it aside if it is not fit.
If you are able, pray come by one o’clock, that we may spend the afternoon together.
Sincerely,
Georgiana Darcy
Elizabeth turned to her aunt.
“May I go?”
“If Jane accompanies you, you may,” Mrs. Gardiner replied. “Does Miss Darcy have a companion?”
“I do not know Aunt Maddie. Though a young lady of her rank and situation would have one.”
“I will go with you, Lizzy,” Jane said. “Perhaps Miss Darcy will give us a tour. I may never again have the opportunity to see such a grand house.”
“Nor I,” Elizabeth admitted.
Shifting the conversation, Mr. Gardiner asked, “Today, my clerk begins a search for a suitable school for Lydia. Have you any recommendations I may offer him?”
Jane considered. “An active curriculum would be useful. Lydia has lots of energy and is easily bored. Perhaps riding, cooking, or some practical instruction. She will never tolerate embroidery, tatting, or such sedentary activities.”
“It should be in the countryside,” Elizabeth added, “far from any town or village, and it must be secure. Lydia has a habit of slipping away when no one watches her. She can be remarkably devious.”
“Very well,” Mr. Gardiner replied. “I shall instruct him accordingly.”
Promptly at one o’clock, Elizabeth and Jane stood at the entrance to Darcy House. The grandeur of the home struck her anew. The Corinthian columns flanking the doorway made her feel they were entering another world entirely, a world of rank and wealth beyond her imagining.
They were shown to the principal floor by a middle-aged butler. At the far end of the hall, he opened a door and announced them.
Georgiana sat within. At the sight of them, she rose and came forward.
“I am so happy you could come. The house is terribly quiet without Fitzwilliam.”
The two sisters settled on a small couch near the hearth, while Georgiana sat on a settee opposite. A small table at her right was piled with books, embroidery, and a fashion magazine. Elizabeth glanced about the room before asking, “And your companion, Georgiana?”
“Oh, Lizzy, she was dismissed without a character.”
“Then she must have done something far beyond what could be forgiven,” Elizabeth replied.
“Yes. She attempted to introduce me to a libertine, for the purpose of arranging an elopement.”
She looked near tears.
Elizabeth moved to sit beside her.
“You need not speak of it, my dear, if it gives you pain.”
“No, I will speak of it for I am grieved and it pains me like a physical wound. Mrs. Younge was my companion for two years, and she was very personable and attentive. One day, as we walked in Hyde Park, a gentleman approached us. She greeted him as a valued friend, and we were introduced.”
Georgiana’s voice faltered.
“His name was Mr. George Wickham.”
Both sisters stiffened.
Georgiana saw at once that she had struck upon something unexpected. Her eyes narrowed as she studied her friend’s face.
“What is it, Lizzy? What have I said?”
“You have entrusted us with your secret. I will entrust you with ours.”
Then she related what had passed between their family and Lieutenant Wickham.
“And your sister?” she asked. “How is she? Is she much affected by such an affront?”
“No, I wish she had been. My sister is your age, but she craves adventure. She was angry for perhaps a day, but when we fled to my uncle’s house, she was distressed that Lieutenant Wickham had not sent her a note.”
With a grave expression, she continued, “My uncle is searching for a school where she may be placed for her own safety.”
After they finished speaking of Lydia, Georgiana resumed her own account.
“When I heard Mr. Wickham’s name, I remembered my brother speaking of a man with the same surname. He was the son of my father’s steward, and Fitzwilliam had warned me never to have anything to do with him, should I ever meet him.”
“I asked a few questions, and when Mr. Wickham understood that I knew of him, his manner altered, and he acknowledged the connection. Not wishing to provoke him, I received his compliments with feigned pleasure, then claimed a headache, and Mrs. Younge brought me straight home. I told Fitzwilliam what had occurred, and he dismissed Mrs. Younge that very day. He hired a trained man to search for Mr. Wickham, but the man was never found.”
Jane remarked, “It is truly a small world. The reprobate has ended in Meryton, a village scarcely a mile from our father’s estate.”
“When Fitzwilliam returns, I shall inform him where Mr. Wickham may be found. My brother has been searching for another companion, without success, and now, with Cousin Philip’s accident, and this journey north, everything has been delayed.”
The tea tray was brought in, and Georgiana occupied herself with the service. As they were eating, Elizabeth attempted to lighten the conversation by asking about Georgiana’s new book.
“Show me this Gothic romance, my dear. How did your brother allow you to purchase it?”
“He did not. Miss Bingley gave it to me. She had finished with it and said I should enjoy the story.”
Elizabeth and Jane exchanged a look.
Amused, Georgiana added, “That is precisely my brother’s expression when he saw the title of the book. Yet since it was a gift from a close acquaintance, he thought I ought at least to attempt it so that I might express my gratitude for the gift.”
Elizabeth picked up the book. “I will take the first turn reading aloud.” She opened it and began to read. “St. Irvyne; or, The Rosicrucian. By Percy Bysshe Shelley.”
“Red thunderclouds, borne on the wings of the midnight whirlwind, floated, at fits, athwart the crimson-colored orbit of the moon; the rising fierceness of the blast sighed through the stunted shrubs…”
Elizabeth paused. “I find the language over-embellished and difficult to follow.”
Jane opined, “It is a violent beginning, sister. If the weather is any indication of what follows, I doubt we will be able to read much of this book.”
Elizabeth continued for another ten minutes, then lowered the volume and stood.
“My mind is fatigued. I must stretch my limbs, or I shall suffer for it.”
Georgiana rose as well. “I feel the same. The book is a disappointment.”
Then, turning to Jane, she added, “You have not yet seen my sketches and paintings. Would you like to see them?”
“I should like it very much,” Jane answered. “Lizzy has told me you are very accomplished.”
Elizabeth asked, “Does this house contain a ballroom? If it does, I should dearly like to see it. Perhaps you might take us on a short tour so that we may stretch our legs.” Then she added, “Only to see some of the public rooms, and then we may finish in your private sitting parlor.”
Georgiana agreed, and both sisters followed her into the corridor.
She led them down a wide hall. The walls on one side were hung with portraits of generations of Darcys.
Georgiana paused before a large portrait.
“This is my father, Graham, and Lady Anne, my mother.”
They stood and regarded the handsome couple. He was dark, like his son, with curling hair and deep-set eyes.
Elizabeth said, “Your brother is very like your father, and you resemble your mother, Georgiana. Not only in your fair hair and blue eyes, but in the line of your brows, and the shape of your nose.”
“My Uncle Henry has told me I remind him of my mother when she was my age.”
“This is Fitzwilliam when he was nineteen. He was at home for the summer when it was painted.”
She moved to the next.
“And this was done when I was twelve. Fitzwilliam intends another when I am seventeen, when I come out.”
Jane and Georgiana spoke of the dress in the portrait, but Elizabeth lingered before the likeness of Mr. Darcy. It was an excellent resemblance, true to his striking features, and she studied it, captivated by the man.
They proceeded down the portrait gallery until they reached a wide door that opened onto the ballroom. Sunshine poured through the tall beveled-glass windows, illuminating every corner. They walked the length of the room, admiring the patterned plaster ceiling and the elegant wall hangings.
Once again in the hall, they turned to the right, and Georgiana opened another door. Elizabeth found herself facing shelves upon shelves of books lining every wall. Even the spaces between the tall windows had been fitted with bookcases.