Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT
Elizabeth knew that no one would be coming today from Netherfield—or, indeed, ever again.
At least I have the drawings Georgiana did, she thought, determined to count her blessings.
Neddy knew so much more now—sometimes calling her ‘Sissy’, something he had not managed before those pictures.
Sustaining those feelings of optimism was not easily done, however.
Jane had not come again this week. It was understandable—Mr Bingley had probably called, or might do so.
She must wish to be at home if he arrived.
No sibling could possibly compete with new-found love.
It had already begun—the changes. Georgiana had been such a welcome light, and she would miss her young friend.
Worst of all, however, were the dreams—and of whom she dreamt.
Mr Darcy tortured her with his presence in these, haunting her.
In them, they drove together, except she was not sitting opposite him beside her young brother, mooing like a cow.
They walked together, except that she was not holding a struggling child who was trying anything he could to break free.
Why had her first romance—if one could even call these feelings of longing ‘romantic’—been with someone so utterly out of reach?
It would not be so bad; dreams were harmless and all she had.
Except that she wakened bereft every morning, lonelier than the day before.
When there was a knock on the door, she fully expected it to be Rosie or Millie from Longbourn, with a delivery of food.
“Georgiana!” Elizabeth cried, astonished.
The girl bounced happily on her toes. “I told you my brother would not object! I told you! I could not come until after church, which is why I am so late; I snuck out. Everyone except Fitzwilliam believes I am napping. But Elizabeth, he even has ideas for helping!”
Elizabeth’s heart began beating harder. Would Mr Darcy come? Would she see him again?
But no, he did not arrive—it had been silly to think he would. However, he had filled Georgiana’s mind with notions based upon—of all things—his experience retraining his horse.
Elizabeth had noticed that transitions from one activity to the next were hardest for the little boy.
If he was going to throw a tantrum, it was always some sort of shift which set him off.
She and Georgiana—Neddy called her ‘Gina’, the closest he could come to saying her name—began working with Neddy on the problem, and work, it often was.
They would do an activity he enjoyed for a time, and later stop and move onto something else.
Often, he was fine with the change. Sometimes, he was not.
One thing Elizabeth insisted upon: if the child made any move of belligerence towards Georgiana, she must leave immediately.
Neddy was heartbroken whenever this happened, but to the extent she could, Elizabeth tried to reinforce that injuring others gained him nothing.
He would repeat over and over again ‘Don’t hurt Gina’ and ‘Don’t hurt Sissy’.
Despite that, when he lost control of his temper, he usually forgot.
Georgiana came early, because Neddy rose early and like Elizabeth herself, was at his best in the morning hours.
The Bingley sisters, she said, assumed she was horse-mad and since they never rose before noon, seldom asked any questions.
She brought her companion in the carriage, Mrs Annesley, one afternoon—she had wished to meet them both.
Elizabeth thought her very elegant, and was grateful when Neddy was his sweetest self—they did not practise any changing of activity during the visit.
Mr Darcy, Georgiana said, asked often for detailed reports on Neddy’s progress.
There did not seem a great deal to report.
Elizabeth had taken to tallying the number of his aggressions throughout his day, simply to see if they were lessening.
Some days she thought so, but after two weeks, if there was improvement, it was very little.
Probably because she had grown nearly obsessed with watching for trouble, her fears grew too.
In fact, in her dread of unwittingly aggravating his temper, she brought him fewer places and exposed him to fewer people, refusing to ask Mrs Hill to watch him any longer.
Jane stopped in occasionally, but Elizabeth did not dare leave him alone with her; at the same time, her sister’s visits became more and more sporadic.
By three weeks into their daily routines, despite invitations from Georgiana to bring Neddy to visit her at Netherfield, Elizabeth had essentially ceased bringing her brother anywhere at all where there might be witnesses, terrified he might demonstrate his worst side.
She pretended that it did not matter, that she was happy in her seclusion.
Georgiana was a rock of comfort and optimism. She visited every day, rain or shine, except on the Sabbath. What will I do when she leaves? Elizabeth wondered.
It was a gloomy Sunday afternoon, the day stretching out bleakly before her, when Jane called again—the first time in nearly two weeks. She brought a new spinning top for Neddy, which instantly fascinated him, and pastries for them both.
Elizabeth, too, was cheered to see her and receive her embrace. “Jane! You must tell me all of the news.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I ought to have come more often, I know. I have missed you and Neddy so much! It is…oh, I am so confused!” They were interrupted by Neddy’s elation at seeing his eldest sister.
He did not throw his arms about her, as one might expect—only stood before her, tensing with joy, making the keening sound he voiced when excited, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Jane hugged him and he submitted to it before racing back to play with his new toy.
Elizabeth seated her near the fire and sat beside her. “What is confusing, dear?”
For a long time, Jane said nothing, staring into the flames.
It had always been hard for her to speak of her most intimate feelings; if she had, she had done so late at night, in the dark and quiet of the room they had once shared.
Elizabeth was patient, saying nothing. When Jane spoke at last, her voice was a whisper.
“Sometimes, I think…I think that Mr Bingley truly cares for me. When he sees me, his eyes…oh, you will think me nonsensical.”
“Never. Tell me.”
“There is a look in his eyes that is only for me. I see it, Lizzy. I know he cares. There are times when we will speak and I feel that no one else is in the room. There is a sympathy between us, I am certain. And there are also times when I feel…no, when I know that he is actively closing himself off from me. Mama is ridiculous, of course, insisting to anyone who will listen that he will propose any day. Perhaps he has heard rumours and seeks to subdue them.”
“But why should he? There is no reason why he cannot propose.”
“Caroline says that Mr Darcy believes him too young to know his own mind.”
Does Mr Darcy disapprove of the match? “He did not seem so young as all that. Why, he must be near your own age.”
“Yes—we even, almost, share a birthday. He is but three days older than I.” Her sister blushed at this remembrance and sighed. “Some days he will not call. When he does, it is as though he wishes for connexion. But afterwards he pulls away. I know not what to think!”
Elizabeth could empathise with her uncertainty and longing, although at least Mr Darcy had not led her to believe he meant anything by his attentions. “I suppose all you can do is wait. If anything is meant to happen, surely it will.”
“It is probably a dream,” Jane said sadly. “Because of my small settlement.”
“I do not think he needs more money,” Elizabeth assured. “He would be fortunate to win a wife such as you. Your birth is better than his, and would be a credit to his children.”
Jane glanced over at where Neddy played quietly, bringing a flare of resentment into Elizabeth’s heart.
She did her best to quell it. But after her sister’s departure, almost, she wished Jane had not come.
Neddy cried inconsolably when she left, and he was cross the rest of the afternoon.
She took him for a long walk, but he was angry when he determined they were returning, and fought her so diligently that she was forced to carry him, struggling and fighting her, the rest of the way home.
I cannot do this, she thought, as she finally fell into bed late that night, exhausted and discouraged to her bones. I cannot do this alone any longer.