Chapter Twenty #3
Darcy was absolutely determined to be as friendly as he could be to the Gardiners. Whenever Elizabeth talked about them, it was clear that she liked them very much, and Mr. Bennet had also highly praised both of their good sense.
Within ten minutes of their arrival, Darcy had decided that he liked Mr. Gardiner a great deal.
As for Mrs. Gardiner, it was simply delightful to talk about the general neighborhood between Pemberley and Lambton, where she had grown up.
While they, of course, had socialized in different circles, there were a half dozen acquaintances from the neighborhood who they held in common, and whom Darcy could give her intelligence about.
George and Emily were familiar with their cousins, who ranged in age from substantially older than George to a few months younger than Emily, and they quickly fell into happily running about, playing, arguing, and joking about each other.
George loudly bragged about how he now had a papa, and how his original papa had also been killed in a duel.
Georgiana was present, and Elizabeth had very much wanted her to be there, saying that she wanted her dear new sister to become acquainted with her family.
Darcy appreciated this particularly as the way that she had been talked about the previous morning had caused him to worry about her general reception in society.
He had always known that it was unlikely to be kind to her, but the sense of what that would mean was slowly seeping into his bones after he had seen her once in company.
The Gardiners were intent to involve Georgiana, and Mrs. Gardiner made a strong effort to encourage Georgiana to speak, which combined with Elizabeth’s support made Darcy’s sister soon start to venture full sentences.
By the time the evening was over, she had several times expressed her own opinion without being specifically asked for it.
After another visit or two, Georgiana might be almost as free in talking with the Gardiners as she was in the domestic circle.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were annoyed with Elizabeth at the start of the visit. Or at least they referred to how infrequently she had visited them over the past two years, and how she had kept herself too apart.
At this hint, Elizabeth blushed and said, “Aunt, Uncle, I must apologize. I have been too proud. And I shall try to be less driven by that in the future, though it is difficult; I beg you to understand that it is difficult.”
“Oh,” Mr. Gardiner said smiling at his niece. “I know very well how easy it is to let pride govern us. Often for good, but sometimes for ill. What is important is to know when we must improve, and to make the effort.”
It proved an extremely pleasant dinner, and every time Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, she glowed at him with approval and happiness.
They stayed with the Gardiners late, as Darcy’s tendency to fall asleep very early in the evening was less serious than it had been the first two days in London.
When they arrived home and had retired into the joint sitting room between their suites, she said to him, “Thank you.”
“For what?” Darcy smiled as he settled into the sofa, not sure if he would get up again. Though John would of course show up at some point and insist on undressing him.
“Well, for many things, but particularly for being so friendly with my aunt and uncle.”
“They are important to you.”
“I know there is still a great deal of the very great gentleman in you. I saw that you were a bit concerned about going to dine with tradesmen.”
“I will confess to having worried before—I was surprised by how civil, and how well mannered, and how…enjoyable it was to talk to them. I hope to see a great deal more of them in the future.”
Elizabeth’s expression showed her happiness at this intelligence.
Darcy had an urge to ask her if she was averse to engaging in marital intimacies. Except he would sound silly if he asked the question in precisely that way, and he was scared to do so, even when she looked at him with such an encouraging smile.
After a little, Elizabeth frowned and said, “I am worried about Georgiana—you saw, I am sure, how she was sick this morning.”
“You perhaps know better than me, how late are her courses?”
“Very—late enough that I would be surprised if she is not with child.”
“So, we are past the point where we can hope that nothing will come of that.” Darcy felt a flash of rage towards Wickham go through him.
That rage was immediately followed by a sense of disappointment in himself for feeling that anger, since he did not have a proper right to it after he had killed the man.
“There is still chance of mistake or miscarriage,” Elizabeth said, in a soothing voice, “and there will be several months before it is clearly visible.”
“Poor, poor Georgiana! And she is so young. So terribly young.”
“I know.”
Darcy sighed. “She does not deserve to suffer.”
“No,” Elizabeth said quietly. “She does not. Not for all her mistakes.”
“I often think,” Darcy said, “of a different young girl, almost sixteen, deciding to marry a man who she believed to be a good one, and who was much the opposite—I hope, I hope I have done something to make that girl happier.”
“You have; you must know that you have.” She warmly kissed his hand.
“Tell me,” Darcy asked, “what would you do with Georgiana?”
“What would I do? I hardly know. I would—were I in her place…I do not know what I would want us to do, beyond—she has the Darcy ability to despise herself. We must avoid encouraging that.” Elizabeth laughed.
“People can be so contrary. She might feel happier if we shouted at her, treated her unkindly and despised her.”
Darcy laughed, “Someone must feel the mistake keenly, and if her relations do not, she must accomplish the task herself—I could not. I could not treat her with anything but kindness, and with the knowledge that though she has made a serious mistake, she has repented of it.”
“As Georgiana said often, she thought they would be married—she was foolish more than wrong. You know, she only understood what Wickham was about, what it meant, when matters had already become irrevocable—Georgiana insists that she would not have stopped him, even had she understood everything; she insists that she allowed herself to be seduced, and that we must not think better of her than she deserves. In that, she is very like you.”
“We are family,” Darcy said.
“You cannot judge so harshly a girl who was so ignorant. Who understood so little. Poor Georgiana.”
“Ought we try to hide the whole thing from the world?” Darcy’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought.
Elizabeth sighed. “Must we? If we must. It is what is customary.” Then she laughed. “And you know how we are both slaves to custom.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Not quite.”
“I mean pagan customs, specifically.”
That caught Darcy by surprise, and he started laughing quite hard.
“For my part I would rather the scandal than to lie. Hiding a matter that is no one’s business is one thing, but to hide this would involve such efforts and difficulties that it would reach the status of a lie.” Darcy sighed. “But my duty is to Georgiana.”
“What does she wish, you think?” Then Elizabeth laughed. “We ought to ask her, in time.”
“Yes,” Darcy agreed. “But there is no hurry—I must tell the rest of my family. At present relations with Lady Catherine are broken, and I will give her no kindness, nor respect until she offers an apology to you. Lord Matlock and his wife, however, should be told in person, and asked for their advice. Even if I shall only act on what they recommend if I agree that it is sound, I respect them both sufficiently that I wish to give them the opportunity to have speech. And everyone will wish to meet you. When we return to Pemberley, we will call a family gathering to discuss Georgiana’s situation. Matters will be clearer by then.”
Elizabeth leaned her head against Darcy’s chest. “I hope it does not bother you that I do not feel any anxiety about meeting them. I am more worried about meeting that housekeeper of yours, Mrs. Reynolds, who played such a role in stories of your childhood.”
“My dear Elizabeth.”
Darcy then yawned, and the two of them separated to each go to their separate beds. Darcy wished they were not.