Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
LEARNING A THING OR TWO
“Miss Bennet, please meet my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy,” Mr Darcy introduced the extraordinarily attired young lady, after she reappeared—on foot this time.
Elizabeth realised the girl was much younger than she had initially seemed—her figure, shown to oddly good advantage in the strange apparel, was more mature than her manner.
“Please, come inside,” she encouraged, when Miss Darcy proved too tongue-tied to respond to the introduction. “Come sit by the fire, it is chilly without.” At least, with the accompaniment of his sister, she need not feel awkward about inviting the brother to enter as well.
“My sister recently joined me at Netherfield, and I mentioned to her my intention of taking Edward riding today, if it was acceptable to you,” Mr Darcy said with a formality that was stiff, even for him.
They all sat down together in the single room she possessed for entertaining visitors—it was too crude, really, to name it a parlour.
It was merely a wide-open, limestone-floored area around the big stone fireplace, near to which she had placed an old settee and a couple of chairs from Longbourn’s attics, as well as the rocking chair from Neddy’s nursery, all delivered courtesy of Mr and Mrs Hill.
The whole house consisted of three rooms—the one she and Neddy slept in, the chamber now in use by Mrs Finch which once was a kitchen of sorts, and this open hearthed space between the two.
Her home’s flaws seemed doubly apparent before her visitors and she nearly explained that it had never been meant to be anything more than a temporary gathering space for parties of hunters.
Neither brother nor sister seemed to know what else to say. Neddy was not thus afflicted. Miss Darcy had carried in a much-used leather satchel, which interested him deeply. Chattering in his nonsense words, he tried to tug it away from her.
“No, Neddy—that belongs to Miss Darcy.”
“Oh, but I brought it for him to see,” the girl spoke at last. Opening it, from within she brought out a few nicely made pencils and a book bound in soft leather with ties.
Neddy watched, enraptured, as she untied the book to reveal fine rag-pulp paper and began to sketch.
Quickly, she drew a horse so realistic that Elizabeth was astonished.
“’Horse!” Neddy cried, obviously equally amazed.
“Yes, clever boy,” Miss Darcy said. She flipped the page and pencilled a sketch of Neddy that was his mirror image.
Elizabeth moved closer on the settee so she could watch the girl work. “It is so life-like,” she gasped. “It looks exactly like him. Neddy, this is you.”
Miss Darcy pointed to the drawing. “Neddy,” she said.
She flipped back to the sketch of the horse.
“Horse,” she repeated. Turning to a clean sheet, she sketched a picture of a little boy atop a horse, sitting in front a man in a tall hat.
It was not nearly so detailed, but still obvious what it was.
“Neddy rides a horse with Mr Darcy,” she said.
“Neddy rides a horse,” he echoed—not nearly as distinctly as she had said it, but with enough clarity that it was obvious what his words meant. Neddy spoke like this often—repeating Elizabeth’s words, although plainly not comprehending them. However, he might understand this time.
“I thought I could draw some pictures for you, and for Neddy,” Miss Darcy said hurriedly, not looking up, “in case it might help teach him the words for objects which you wish him to learn. Or, if he cannot say the words, he could point to the pictures to make himself understood. Perhaps.” Her skin was flushed, Elizabeth saw, as if she felt embarrassed by her offer.
“Although much of the time my notions are not so good as they seem when they are inside my head, so you must say so if you think it silly.”
“Neddy ride a horse! Neddy ride a horse!” Neddy babbled almost incomprehensibly—and yet, the syllables were all there. Elizabeth, if no one else, understood him.
The tears which she had been battling all morning finally escaped, as she choked out an embarrassingly loud sob.
Both Mr and Miss Darcy turned to look at her wide-eyed.
“I am sorry!” Miss Darcy cried, obviously distressed. “Please, forget I said anything!”
“You must forgive my sister,” Mr Darcy added. “She did not mean to imply—”
“No, no,” Elizabeth said, frantically groping in her pocket for a handkerchief.
“You do not understand. No one else has ever truly tried to help me teach Neddy. I am so moved. And mortified by my ridiculous blubbering. Thank you, Miss Darcy.” She shook her head in disbelief.
“Thank you so much. You are the kindest, most talented girl in the world.”
Darcy watched as his sister absorbed Elizabeth’s affection and attention, seeming to blossom before his eyes.
Edward, too, seemed enamoured of each picture, wanting every animal he had ever learnt reproduced on paper.
Before long, Elizabeth, too, was requesting drawings of various items, the names of which she wished Edward to learn, and all of which his sister capably drew.
“I do not understand,” he said, after several minutes of watching. “How will a picture be any better than the object itself?”
“Well, for one thing, it is much more practical to have images of items too large to keep strewn about my home,” Elizabeth said, smiling, more cheerful than he had ever seen her.
“But also, I can make a game of it. Neddy loves games and puzzles. Capturing his attention is part of the trouble. Oh, Miss Darcy, could you draw sets of items? For instance, I have been working on teaching him his numbers—he is very good up to twelve, but after that he gets them jumbled.”
“Like thirteen balls, fourteen keys?” Georgiana answered, beginning more sketches—which was not easy, because Edward was fascinated by her ability and liked to keep his head as close as possible to the paper.
“I was thinking to use animals, since he loves them so. I suppose fifteen elephants might not fit on one piece of paper.”
“I could draw miniature elephants. What are his favourite animals?”
Never had Darcy seen Georgiana grow so comfortable, so quickly.
Within half an hour, they were talking and laughing together, and his sister had offered to come back with her watercolours to add some depth and excitement to her images.
Once in a while Georgiana would say something that he wished she had not—for instance, when she spoke of the time Darcy had purchased waistcoats in ridiculous shades of green, yellow, and purple, wearing them about the house simply because she had loved bright colours and he had wished to make her smile.
Still, the smile Elizabeth had bestowed upon him at hearing this anecdote was not at all mocking, but warm and perhaps, even, tender.
As much as he hated to interrupt their tête-à-tête, the morning was passing quickly; Georgiana must return to Netherfield and her rooms to change her clothing before anyone saw her dressed so peculiarly.
As kindly as Elizabeth had treated his sister, he had seen her surprise in Georgiana wearing them and would not want her embarrassed before their hosts.
“Perhaps I ought to take Edward for his ride, and Georgiana—”
“I know, I know.” She turned to Elizabeth with a confidential air.
“I wore my riding breeches, which I am not supposed to do, but I do not understand why one must add vast flaps of material to one’s riding costume if one is a female, which only get in the way, and why we are not allowed to ride astride.
I mean, I know it is a rule, but it is a rule which makes no sense! Does it to you?”
Darcy kept his expression impassive with effort, but Elizabeth answered sympathetically.
“I do not ride at all, Miss Darcy, so I am probably not the person to ask.” She turned to Darcy, eyes twinkling. “I suppose your brother ought to explain, if he can, since he is so keen on the activity.”
Miss Darcy clucked her tongue. “He will not. Fitzwilliam is the worst about answering my most serious questions. I will ask Mrs Annesley—my companion—as she is better about it, but she does not ride either, so likely will be no good to me. You must call me Georgiana, since we are to be friends. Oh…we are to be friends, are we not? I have trouble making conversation, but this has been so easy today.” She looked at Elizabeth with such a hopeful air, he almost wanted to warn her to slow, to hold back.
Georgiana, do not wear your heart upon your sleeve! Do not expect so much from others! They are bound to disappoint you!
But Elizabeth had not been in society’s drawing rooms, learning what was and was not proper to admit aloud.
Instead, she embraced his sister with an arm about her shoulders, giving her a quick squeeze.
“I shall very much enjoy having you as a friend. Please, call me Elizabeth. I am very sorry that you must go so soon, and hope you will be able to stay longer next time.”
Georgiana actually clapped at this, causing Edward to clap as well. “Yes, absolutely! I will be dressed as properly as can be. Now, Neddy, a few more pictures since now I know you can count.” She looked at Elizabeth. “What will you want him to do after his ride?”
Elizabeth appeared to think about it. “Um. I suppose we have not taken our walk today. Since it is not raining, I could take him up to the pastures to look at the cows and sheep. He always enjoys that.”
“Very good.” She began rapidly sketching, one page after the other, afterwards removing three sheets from her drawing book.
The first, with a large numeral ‘one’ at the top, was a picture of Edward donning his boots.
The second was her sketch of Edward riding, to which she had added a ‘two’.
The third picture showed him holding the hand of a woman who was, plainly, Elizabeth, the both of them gazing at cows and sheep.
Georgiana got down upon her knees, so she was of a height with Edward.
She placed the first picture before him.
“First, Neddy puts on his shoes.” Edward watched, seemingly enraptured.
She laid down the next. “Two, Neddy goes for a ride with Mr Darcy. Three, Neddy goes for a walk with Sister. First, shoes. Then, a ride. Next, a walk. One, two, three.” Edward studied the drawings, but quickly ran off.
Georgiana smiled rather self-consciously. “Well, I tried. Perhaps I could make the pictures more—”
She halted mid-sentence. Edward had returned, his little boots in hand.
“Oh!” Elizabeth said, her voice nearly overcome, again, with emotion. “He understood.”