Chapter 32 Family Secrets #2
Elizabeth covered her mouth to suppress a smile. “I am perfectly well, I assure you. I am sorry you were made anxious. You know what they say about country girls. Town girls fade, but country girls flourish.”
Georgiana giggled. “That is a clever saying. I am a country girl at heart. When I am in the country, I ride Daisy every day, and I would not exchange it for any assembly room in London. And when I paint, I place my easel outdoors, for they say fresh air is good for the soul and the constitution.”
Elizabeth guided Georgiana toward the small sofa she had lately occupied. “Come, sit here beside me.”
Jane and Mr. Bingley were already engaged in earnest conversation, while Mr. Darcy had taken a chair positioned near Elizabeth’s own. Presently, Mrs. Hill entered with the tea tray, and Elizabeth set to pouring and serving their guests.
When she handed Mr. Darcy his cup, he regarded her with a teasing grin. “How do you know how I take my tea?”
“I have been in company with you in London, sir. I was careful to observe.”
His grin softened into a genuine smile. “I am gratified to learn that my preferences signify so much to you, Miss Elizabeth.”
Her complexion heightened, and she wondered whether she had betrayed too much. What a simpleton she was. She had confessed to observing his habits with particular care and could only hope she did not appear eager in his eyes.
Unbidden, her thoughts returned to Miss Bingley at her brother’s table in London, where each dish had been proclaimed a favorite of Mr. Darcy’s, and the lady had not scrupled to declare the pains she had taken to ensure his satisfaction.
Elizabeth resolved she would never so parade her attentions, then, suppressing a private smile, she wondered if she was now following in Miss Bingley’s path.
He had evidently marked her expression. “What do you find so amusing, Miss Elizabeth?”
She placed a cup in Mr. Bingley’s hand before turning her attention to the preparation of Georgiana’s tea, hoping the momentary occupation would lend her composure.
“Nothing in particular, sir,” Elizabeth replied lightly.
“I am only glad of company. Since our loss, we have received very little. When we meet acquaintances in Meryton, they offer a subdued greeting, yet no one has ventured to Longbourn. I suspect the crape upon the pillar and our black gowns discourage them.”
Georgiana accepted her tea and a small plate bearing two slices of lemon cake.
“I am sorry to hear it, Lizzy. I do not find your dress discouraging in the least.” She touched the sleeve and bent nearer in curiosity.
“Though it is exceedingly black. How can fabric be made to look so solemn? It is quite firm and cool to the touch.”
Mr. Darcy supplied the answer. “It is a blend of silk and worsted wool, my dear. The combination produces that dull finish which lends it such a grave and restrained appearance.”
Georgiana turned to Elizabeth. “There you have it, Lizzy. Some ingenious man contrived a method of darkening our lives during our seasons of sorrow. By weaving two perfectly serviceable threads of silk and wool, in a particular fashion, he produced a fabric of relentless blackness. These gowns would be far less oppressive if the material were soft and flowing, instead of so shockingly somber. It puts me in mind of ashes. Will you be obliged to wear black to Mr. Bingley’s ball? ”
“No. My father has granted us leave to appear in white. Lavender and gray were also permitted, yet I have no wish for gray. I shall not wear it unless I am one day compelled to hire myself out as a governess.”
Mr. Darcy choked on his tea.
Georgiana started and looked at her brother in alarm. “Are you unwell?”
He coughed again and cleared his throat with difficulty. “Perfectly well,” he managed hoarsely. “I swallowed amiss.”
Georgiana’s attention returned to Elizabeth, her brow faintly furrowed. “But why should you ever be obliged to hire yourself out, Lizzy?”
“My dear girl, you must know that a woman is thought to be quite on the shelf once she reaches three and twenty. And heaven forbid that I should attain thirty unmarried. I would be styled an ape leader. If my married sisters cannot secure me a husband by three and twenty, I shall hire myself out as a governess rather than remain at home and be whispered of as the village ape leader.”
Georgiana pressed her fingers to her lips. “Lizzy, whatever can you mean by such a term? It sounds…”
“Cutting?” Elizabeth supplied. “It is exceedingly so, and most unjust. A gentleman may be forty or even fifty and still be pronounced youthful and eligible, yet a woman is deemed faded before she has properly lived.”
“But what is an ape leader?” Georgiana asked, her brow knit in concern.
“It arises from an old superstition,” Elizabeth replied with mock solemnity. “An unmarried woman, it is said, is condemned in the next world to lead apes in hell.”
She regarded the wide-eyed girl beside her and softened her tone.
“How anyone professes knowledge of such particulars I cannot conceive, for the only reference to apes in the Good Book is found in Kings, in connection with King Solomon’s exotic imports and the display of his great wealth.
Of an ape leader, there is most assuredly no mention.
I suspect the whole notion was invented merely to frighten young ladies into matrimony.
” She ran her hand along the folds of her gown to smooth out the wrinkles.
“Nor have I encountered it in any of the Greek or Roman authors,” she added, shaking her head with a slight shrug.
Mr. Darcy spoke at this, and both young women turned toward him. Elizabeth detected a gleam of amusement in his eyes.
“It arises from late medieval English folklore,” he said, addressing Georgiana. “You need not distress yourself, sister. It is the invention of the unlearned and carries no authority beyond idle superstition.”
Georgiana looked back at Elizabeth and laughed. “It is a very curious expression.”
“Curious, yes,” Elizabeth agreed, smiling, “though not one any lady would wish applied to herself.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Certainly not.”
At that moment, Mr. Bingley rose. “Miss Bennet has been so kind as to accept a walk in the garden.”
Darcy stood as well and inclined his head toward Elizabeth. “May I persuade you, ladies, to join me?”
Both ladies rose. In the hall, Mrs. Hill was handing Mr. Bingley his hat, gloves, and walking stick, while Jane stood before the mirror adjusting the ribbons of her bonnet.
When Mrs. Hill turned to fetch Mr. Darcy’s coat and gloves, Elizabeth passed Georgiana her bonnet and assisted her in tying it neatly beneath her chin.
Jane stepped aside from the mirror, and Elizabeth gave Georgiana a gentle nudge forward. “There, the mirror is free.”
She stepped back to examine Georgiana’s bonnet. “It sits perfectly.”
Elizabeth then removed her own bonnet from its peg and settled it carefully over her chignon. She was fastening the ribbons beneath her chin when Mr. Darcy came forward and draped her shawl about her shoulders. She looked up at him. His eyes were smiling down at her.
She returned the look without hesitation. In that quiet moment, she was keenly aware of her own contentment. His attention had scarcely strayed from her during tea, and it did not stray now.
He offered his arm, and she laid her hand lightly upon it. He extended the other to Georgiana and led them toward the door.
“Which direction?” he asked, glancing at Elizabeth.
“Let us grant Mr. Bingley and Jane a little privacy,” she replied. “Papa’s study is just there. He will keep watch over them. They scarcely walk at all, so absorbed are they in conversation.”
Darcy lifted his gaze and perceived Mr. Bennet at the window, observing the pair in the garden. Elizabeth raised her hand in greeting. Her father returned the salute with grave amusement.
“Shall we walk to the Hermitage?” Elizabeth suggested, her eyes darting to her young friend.
Georgiana answered with the slightest lift of her brow.
However subtle they believed themselves, Mr. Darcy did not fail to notice the exchange.
When they had gone far enough that Mr. Bingley could no longer overhear them, Darcy glanced from one young lady to the other.
“What is it about the hermitage,” he inquired, “that has you both looking like conspirators who have just escaped with the family jewels?”
Georgiana looked instantly contrite. Elizabeth laughed.
“Pay no mind, Georgiana. We ought to have known your brother would observe your start. Had I been wiser, I should have said only, let us take the path to the left, sir. Instead, I uttered the single word certain to rouse your curiosity.”
“You speak of the hermitage?” he asked.
“Yes, sir. On the first day of my visit to your London home, Georgiana confided to me her history with Mr. Wickham. In return, we shared our own unhappy history concerning Lydia and that same gentleman.”
She felt him stiffen beside her.
“What of Wickham?” he demanded quietly. “Did he injure your sister?”