Chapter Four #9
After retrieving her robe and securing the tie around her waist, she slowly turned the knob and stepped gingerly out into the hallway.
Leaving the door slightly ajar behind her, she stepped lightly, her bare feet sliding over the soft carpet.
She just had time to note a light coming from under the library door when she heard someone say her name.
Without thought, she moved closer, but before she could turn the knob and see who was inside, she recognised HIS voice.
“It is harmless enough,” he said.
“I am glad you see it that way,” his father responded.
“She is a child. It is not as if she is trying to compromise me or gain my attention in inappropriate ways. It would not be in her nature. I am, unfortunately, far too familiar with both tactics.”
“I am relieved you feel that way. She is a kind and loyal friend to your sister, and I hope to invite her to spend more time with us but would not want you made uncomfortable.”
“Her friendship with Georgiana is something I value as well, and I think you make too much of this. It is a childish infatuation, which is barely perceptible the majority of the time. It is, for the most part, confined to long looks and blushing.”
“And the occasional head on your shoulder?” There was a teasing note to the elder Darcy’s voice.
“She really did simply fall asleep.”
“Of course.” Mr. Darcy sounded unconvinced. “Shall we review Stearns’ letter, or should we wait until the morning?”
Elizabeth stood outside the door for another moment before slowly making her way back to Georgiana’s room. As she climbed into the bed next to her sleeping friend, she felt the sting of tears.
Nothing she had heard was so very bad. Or so she told herself.
But it was incredibly embarrassing. Mortifying, really.
She had always wondered if her feelings were detectable by those who observed her and Darcy together.
Indeed, her reaction to him was so strong within herself that she imagined it must be visible somehow, but she had never allowed herself to think on it too much.
Likely because if she had, she would have realised on her own what the overheard father-son conversation revealed.
Everyone knew. Though later she would dwell on this mortification, in those hours while her friend slumbered beside her and Elizabeth cried herself not quite to sleep, this was not what seemed to matter most. The ubiquitous knowledge of her feelings was embarrassing, but her Mr. Darcy’s dismissal of them was acutely painful.
He saw her as just a child whose feelings were so inconsequential as to not warrant concern.
He had not been intentionally unkind; indeed, he was almost defending her.
If she had felt less, this may have been a balm, but his words wounded her.
By the time the sun could be seen rising over the hills beyond Pemberley Wood, Elizabeth had gained control of herself, though she had not resolved her feelings or determined a course of action.
It was all too much. And so she put the conversation and the emotion and heartache it had triggered into a box in her mind where she told herself it would be safe until she could pour it out to the only person who might help or at least understand.
Jane. Elizabeth knew her aunt would offer consolation and likely advice, but she could not bear to think about repeating the words she overheard nor speaking the feelings they had caused.
Jane’s distance, the requirement of writing and the time it would take to hear a response all made this feel like the best course to Elizabeth.
So it was that Georgiana barely perceived any change in her friend as they set about their day the next morning.
Perhaps the only thing that might have given away Elizabeth’s inability to completely contain her confusion and heartache was when Miss Darcy suggested they seek out Fitzwilliam to join them for their morning walk.
“No, please,” Lizzy said quickly, then collecting herself, went on. “If you do not mind too much, I should like to have you all to myself.”
Georgiana was flattered and assured her friend that she would also be glad to have Lizzy to herself.
The sunshine, exercise and animated conversation did much to restore Elizabeth’s equanimity.
Combined with the absence of the younger Darcy for the rest of the day’s visit Lizzy was able to salvage her enjoyment of her stay at Pemberley.
Elizabeth and Georgiana spent the entire carriage ride talking to one another in their somewhat more than rudimentary Italian.
Miss Baxter, being fluent herself, had been tutoring the girls informally at their request. She offered an occasional correction or instruction as they rolled along towards Lambton.
Three weeks had passed since their birthday festivities, and this was to be their last outing before Lizzy returned to Hertfordshire.
They were eager to make the most of it. The plans included taking tea at the Rose and Crown Inn and shopping for gifts for Elizabeth to bring home to her family at the bookstore and the haberdashery.
After sending a three-page letter to Jane about what had happened at Pemberley on her birthday—in which she included all of the good along with the very bad—Lizzy made an effort to forget about the overheard conversation and its implications.
She thought she was more or less successful at this, but her continued consideration of it manifested itself in the occasional bouts of melancholy which were noted by both Georgiana and Aunt Gardiner.
In addition, Lizzy studiously avoided conversation with the young Mr. Darcy beyond polite necessities, during which she expended great effort to appear as if all were well.
Though proud of herself and certain of the necessity of such action, she found she missed talking with and teasing him a great deal.
As Miss Baxter led them into the private sitting room at the inn, they were greeted by its proprietors.
“It is an honour to have you, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Morton said. “And you as well, Miss Baxter and Miss Bennet. My wife will be serving you. Please feel free to let us know if you require anything.”
Just then, a plump older woman with grey-blond hair tucked neatly inside her white cap bustled into the room holding a tray of biscuits, cakes and fruits.
She placed it beside the tea things on the large centre table.
The ladies took their seats around it, and when the proprietors left, Miss Darcy moved to serve the tea.
Elizabeth and Miss Baxter took their cups from her.
“Georgiana, you are becoming quite the hostess,” Elizabeth told her friend.
“Perhaps next summer you and Miss Bennet can host a small party of friends at Pemberley,” Miss Baxter suggested.
“Oh, do you think Father would allow that?”
“I think it is likely he will be eager to give you an opportunity to practice for the role you will someday hold at Pemberley and someday your own home. Indeed, it will give you an opportunity to demonstrate all you will learn this year at Bembridge.”
“Miss Baxter, this is meant to be an enjoyable outing. I do not wish to think on that place,” Georgiana protested with a pout.
“Miss Darcy,” the governess admonished, “you must resign yourself. It is an incredible opportunity not only to learn, but to make new friends.”
“I do not wish to be forced to spend time with spoiled girls—”
“Georgiana,” Lizzy interrupted, “you mustn’t judge your schoolmates before you meet them.
That is unkind, and you are the kindest young lady I know.
Besides, I am looking forward to all of your letters.
I will wave them about, bragging of my intimate friend from the prestigious Bembridge Academy.
I will consider myself an honorary student by virtue of our correspondence, which I know will be detailed and frequent enough to justify it. ”
Miss Baxter shot a grateful look at Elizabeth before adding, “I too look forward to hearing about everyone you meet and everything you learn as well.”
“It is you who will have the most to share,” Georgiana answered.
“Yes, I hope you will write me as well if it is not too much trouble. I should love to hear all about St. Petersburg and, moreover, what it is like to be in the household of a diplomat in that city. I imagine it will be quite grand.”
“I do not know about grand, but I am certain it will be quite interesting,” Miss Baxter replied. “But I would be happy to write you and receive letters from you. I am certain I will be grateful for any news from England when I am gone.”
“Are you sorry to be going after all?” Georgiana asked. “I know Father was speaking to Lord Cavan . . .”
“No, nothing of the sort, Miss Darcy. I am grateful to your father and brother for referring me to Lord and Lady Cavan and look forward to spending the year as companion to Lady Cavan’s mother.
It is just that I have travelled before and know that regardless of how agreeable a situation may be, a part of me will always long for home. ”
“Well then, you shall certainly hear a great deal of the mundane comings and goings of Hertfordshire, and Miss Darcy can keep you apprised of the far more interesting news of life at a finishing school amidst the noise and excitement of London.”
“Yes, indeed,” Georgiana agreed. “Though I must observe that Lizzy’s letters are always delightful and never boring.”
“I have no doubt,” Miss Baxter answered. “And returning to the subject at hand, should your father approve, I will be delighted to help you host a party at Pemberley when we both return in June.”
“I will miss you when I am home for winter break.”
“I will be sorry to miss Pemberley at Christmas. Your family traditions are wonderful, and the way the house and grounds are decorated makes it feel almost magical.”
“Yes, having a Pemberley Christmas to look forward to is something to sustain me,” Georgiana said, sighing dramatically.
Elizabeth giggled at this. The ladies soon finished their tea and treats and were ready to begin their shopping.
After two hours spent in the few well-stocked shops of Lambton, Elizabeth had bright red and green ribbons for Lydia, a kitten figurine for Kitty, smart new bonnets for Mary and her mother, a lovely shawl for Jane and a book for her father.
Her arms were full as they approached the waiting carriage.
Higgins, the Pemberley footman who usually accompanied the ladies on their outings, stepped forward quickly to take Elizabeth’s many things as well as the few items Miss Baxter and Miss Darcy held.
When they stopped in front of Barlow Hall, Georgiana took her friend’s hands. “I will miss you, Lizzy. Please write to me as often as you can bear to. I will try to do as you and Miss Baxter have advised and make new friends, but no one will ever replace you.”
“Georgiana, you are such a dear,” Elizabeth said, pulling the younger girl in for a hug. “Of course I will write all the time. When we see each other again in June, we will barely have anything to say to one another as we will have been kept apprised of everything through our very many letters!”
When they opened the door, Higgins appeared to help Elizabeth alight.
She stood watching the carriage meander down the tree-lined lane, waving and smiling.
It was not until it disappeared around a bend that she turned and went into the house.
The previous night, they had all been guests at Pemberley for dinner.
It was then that she said her goodbyes to Mr. Darcy, who wanted to continue their tradition of reading a book together while apart during the year.
“The Odyssey?” she asked, opening the book he placed in her hand. It was a worn tome; its light brown leather cover had added gold trim around the edges, and its attached red ribbon bookmark was frayed at the ends and hung loosely over the side.
“I think it is time we attended to the classics,” Mr. Darcy said by way of an answer. “What say you, shall we see what scrapes Odysseus has got himself into?”
“I look forward to it,” she told him.
“That was my book,” the younger Darcy offered. “I remember when Father and I bought it at a bookshop in London. Hatchard’s in Piccadilly, was it not?”
“I believe so,” his father agreed.
“Oh, I should not like to deprive you of something that has sentimental value,” Elizabeth said, moving to the younger Darcy and pressing the book towards him.
It was the closest she had been to him in three weeks, and she was chagrined to discover the power of his proximity had not faded.
His woodsy scent, the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, which were only discernible up close, were enough to shoot a cannon of nerves across her stomach, and then her fingers brushed his and the new weakness of unsteady legs was brought to bear on her small frame.
It was only by the force of her considerable will that she not only remained erect but took a step back, the book still in her hands.
“No, I want you to have it. Its having meaning to me does not preclude a desire to share it. I hope you enjoy it, and I would welcome your thoughts when next we meet.”
“Very well,” she answered after taking a steadying breath.
Turning to the elder Darcy, she offered her thanks, and then turning back to his son, she said, “I thank you for sharing it.” His almost smile and small nod, which caused a loose brown curl that sat atop his head to fall ever so slightly over his forehead, was the lasting image she took with her.
She stared at him for longer than was likely appropriate, but in that moment, she decided they all knew anyway; she might as well look her fill.