Chapter One #2
Ambrose immediately claimed her attention, his chatter flowing as freely as water from a brook. He pointed out his favourite climbing tree, demonstrated his impressive ability to stand on one foot, and challenged her to races across the lawn that left her breathless with laughter.
“He is quite irrepressible,” Georgiana observed with obvious affection as they watched him pursue a butterfly with single-minded determination. “My brother fears I indulge him too much, but he brings such joy to our household.”
“Your brother?” Elizabeth enquired, settling beside Georgiana on a stone bench beneath an ancient oak.
“Mr Darcy—Fitzwilliam is my elder brother and Ambrose’s guardian.” Georgiana’s expression grew fond as she spoke. “He took responsibility for Ambrose when the child was barely walking. I sometimes think the arrangement has benefited us all more than we initially imagined.”
Elizabeth sensed there was more to this story than Georgiana revealed, but she respected the younger woman’s privacy. Instead, they discovered common ground in their love of literature, comparing favourite authors and debating the merits of various novels with the enthusiasm of true devotees.
“I confess myself partial to works that challenge conventional expectations,” Elizabeth admitted. “There is something satisfying about a heroine who refuses to accept her circumstances without question.”
“My brother would approve of that sentiment, though he might phrase it rather differently. He has little patience for passive acceptance of injustice.”
Elizabeth found this revelation intriguing. “And what of your own reading preferences? Do you share your brother’s taste for justice, or do you lean towards more romantic fare?”
A delicate blush coloured Georgiana’s cheeks. “I enjoy both, though I must admit a weakness for poetry. Lord Byron’s work, despite its scandalous reputation, contains such passionate sentiment. Do you think it terribly improper of me?”
“Not at all. I believe there is merit in literature that stirs authentic emotion, even if society deems it somewhat bold. After all, what purpose does reading serve if not to expand our understanding of the world?”
“Precisely!” Georgiana’s reserve melted further. “I tried to explain this to my former governess, but she considered such works entirely unsuitable for young ladies. She preferred sermons and moral treatises.”
“How tedious that must have been. I am fortunate that my father encouraged broader reading, despite my mother’s occasional protests that novels would fill my head with unrealistic expectations.”
Georgiana laughed—a tinkling, musical sound. “Perhaps unrealistic expectations are precisely what we need. Ambrose certainly possesses them in abundance, and he approaches each day with such optimism.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Ambrose’s breathless return, his small face flushed with excitement and exertion. “Miss Bennet! You must see the stables! There are many horses I’m sure you’d like!”
Elizabeth allowed herself to be dragged towards the stables, where Ambrose proceeded to introduce her to each horse with the solemnity of a royal presentation.
His enthusiasm proved infectious, and she was surprised to discover how naturally she fell into the role of interested audience for his elaborate explanations.
The afternoon passed more quickly than she had anticipated, and it was with genuine regret that she heard her father calling from the house. Mr Bennet appeared thoroughly satisfied with his social duty, his conversation with Mr Bingley having apparently proceeded to mutual satisfaction.
“Come, Elizabeth,” he called with good humour. “We must not impose further upon Mr Bingley’s hospitality, though I suspect you would happily remain until sunset if permitted.”
As they prepared to depart, Ambrose attached himself to Elizabeth’s skirts with the determination of a limpet. “Must you leave so soon? We have not yet explored the rose garden, and I wished to show you my collection of interesting stones.”
Elizabeth knelt to meet his earnest gaze, touched by his obvious disappointment. “Perhaps I might return another day to admire your treasures, if Miss Darcy and Mr Bingley do not object.”
“Oh, please say you will!” Georgiana added quickly. “I have so enjoyed our conversation, and Ambrose clearly finds you excellent company.”
The invitation was seconded by Mr Bingley with such earnestness that Elizabeth could not doubt his sincerity. Even Miss Bingley managed a gracious smile, though Elizabeth suspected it cost her some effort.
The carriage ride home proved mercifully peaceful, Mr Bennet having apparently exhausted his supply of commentary during their visit. Elizabeth gazed out at the passing countryside, her thoughts dwelling on the afternoon’s unexpected pleasures.
“Well,” her father said at length, breaking the comfortable silence, “I begin to think you may be destined for motherhood sooner than anticipated, my dear daughter.”
Elizabeth started, heat rising in her cheeks. “Whatever do you mean, Papa?”
“Your evident fascination with young Master Ambrose suggests a natural aptitude for maternal duties. Perhaps we should begin advertising your domestic accomplishments more widely.”
“I am hardly likely to require such skills in the immediate future,” Elizabeth replied with some asperity. “Given my complete lack of suitors and equally complete lack of interest in acquiring them.”
Mr Bennet chuckled. “Do not be so hasty in your dismissals, Lizzy. Life has a way of confounding our most confident predictions.”
Elizabeth considered this observation as Longbourn came into view. The afternoon had indeed confounded her expectations, though not in the manner her father suggested. She had anticipated tedium and social obligation, yet returned home with unmistakable pleasure in new acquaintances.
“Charlotte Lucas married Mr Collins only two months past,” she said thoughtfully, recalling her friend’s practical decision to accept their pompous cousin’s proposal. “If she could resign herself to such a fate, perhaps there is hope for us all.”
“Or perhaps,” Mr Bennet suggested with the wisdom of long experience, “Charlotte’s example merely proves that matrimony requires courage rather than affection.”
Elizabeth laughed, though the observation carried more truth than comfort. As they approached Longbourn’s familiar entrance, she reflected that courage might indeed prove necessary for any woman bold enough to chart her own course through society’s expectations.
The memory of Ambrose’s infectious laughter and Georgiana’s shy friendship provided unexpected comfort. If all children possessed such natural charm and intelligence, she mused, perhaps the world might indeed prove a better place than her cynical nature typically allowed.
The thought lingered as they entered Longbourn’s welcoming chaos, where Mrs Bennet awaited with barely contained impatience to dissect every detail of their momentous expedition.