Chapter Forty-Three
M r. Darcy did his best to concentrate on the pile of letters from his various correspondents – the stewards on the satellite estates, his man of business, his bankers, and so on – all waiting for him on his desk, but he was continuously distracted by his more immediate concerns. His mother’s behaviour was bizarre, far worse than he had anticipated. Would she never be able to accept Elizabeth, thereby sentencing herself to exile at Cresston Hall? He certainly could not allow the community that was Pemberley to be torn apart in what amounted to a civil war. Taking a moment’s refuge in humour, he wondered why it was called a civil war, when there was very little civility involved!
And he was anxious for his sister; he had been blind to the shortcomings of her upbringing until Elizabeth had probed for details.
Mr. Darcy hoped he was hiding his worries well; he did not want to cause Elizabeth any additional apprehension. What must she think of him, bringing her into such a madhouse?
He glanced at the clock on his desk; perhaps he could take tea with Elizabeth. Their various duties kept them busy all day, but he missed her company. She, and only she, had the power to make him forget his many cares.
Carrying his letters to be posted, he went in search of her. As he had hoped, she was in the family drawing room and had just begun pouring tea for herself. Her face lit up when she saw him.
“William! Have you come to take tea with me?’
“Yes; I had hoped to find you here. What luck!”
She poured for him, and fixed him a small plate with a blueberry tart.
“Blueberry tart!”
“Yes; Mrs. Thurston was delighted to learn how very much you enjoyed them, and promised that they would appear far more often.”
The two sat in silence for a moment. Then they both spoke at once.
“Elizabeth –“
“William –“
They both stopped. Mr. Darcy said, “Please continue, Elizabeth.”
“Very well; I wanted to let you know that I wrote to Aunt Gardiner about a possible companion for Georgiana.”
“Excellent; that was what I had wished to bring up. You are quite right; Georgiana is terribly unprepared for her Season, and she must be given the opportunity to get ready.”
“My thoughts as well; she has little time left in which to learn French and perfect her manners.”
“You think her unmannerly?”
Elizabeth hesitated. This was dangerous ground, to be sure. “Do you not think her unnaturally fearful, William?”
“Fearful?” His tone was doubtful.
“Likely you are accustomed to it, but seeing her shrink back, afraid to say anything, all but cowering in her seat! No, that is not usual behaviour for a young lady in her position.”
He was silent.
She eyed him, knowingly. “And doubtless you think that two of my sisters could learn to cower a bit?”
He coloured, as that had been precisely his thoughts.
Elizabeth shook her head at him. “Well, let me tell you that Kitty and Lydia would survive a Season in London far better than your sister. Oh, their behaviour would be considered shocking, to be sure, but they would laugh it off and get dressed for the next ball. Miss Darcy, on the other hand, would take the very first slight to heart and hide under her bed for the remainder of the Season.”
Mr. Darcy closed his eyes for a moment. “You are right; I do not doubt it.”
“One other thing. I have asked my Aunt Gardiner to discover the direction of a Master Bianchi.”
“Master – oh, the music master Georgiana was to take lessons from in London.”
“Yes; she has taken your dereliction in this regard quite to heart and rather blames me for it.”
“Blames you? The blame is mine, and mine alone. Truth to tell, with everything going on at Kent and then Hertfordshire, I had quite forgotten the matter.”
“But she is happier to blame me than you, so please let me be the one to set the matter right, if it can be done.”
“You hope to entice Master Bianchi to come to Pemberley?”
“Yes, for a week.”
“Georgiana would be overcome with delight.”
“Well, let us say nothing until we know if it can be accomplished. I think these foreign masters are rather proud.”
“Very well. Were you able to meet with the upstairs maids today, as you intended?”
Elizabeth told him of the meeting, saying that she thought it had gone well enough. “There will always be some who look to your mother, rather than to me,” she added. Unless she is at Cresston Hall, she thought, but did not say.
Unless she is at Cresston Hall, Mr. Darcy thought, but did not say.
Elizabeth then brightened. “Oh, I have been waiting to baffle you with a first line!”
“Go on, then,” he said, smiling at her eagerness.
“ When once sordid interest seizes on the heart, it freezes up the source of every warm and liberal feeling; it is an enemy alike to virtue and to taste—thisit perverts, andthatit annihilates .” She waited then, her face shining with repressed laughter, certain that she had stumped him.
He laughed at her eagerness. “ Romance of the Forest , of course. My sister made me read it some time ago. It was not to my taste, but the style is unforgettable.”
Her face fell, and then brightened again. “It will be your turn to stump me tonight, then.”
***
Abby dressed Elizabeth for dinner in another of her new gowns, this one in the ever-popular Pomona green. “It is a lovely colour, ma’am,” Abby commented.
“Yes, everyone seems to like it. I preferred the American green; sadly, though, it is no longer in fashion.”
“I thought to try something new with your hair; perhaps up in a crown with a few flowers tucked in?”
“That sounds lovely, Abby. And there are flowers enough, heaven knows!” The head gardener was delighted to have a new mistress who appreciated his effort, and had sent flowers to her room. Elizabeth enjoyed their fragrance, and prayed that no one would tell Lady Anne about this special attention, lest the gardener be reproached.
“You should ask Mr. Darcy to give you topaz earrings to match the cross, Mrs. Darcy,” Abbey said. “Or perhaps wear some of the special pieces you mentioned?”
“No, they really are too much for a family dinner, Abby.”
“Where are they, Mrs. Darcy? I did not see them in your jewel case.”
Elizabeth turned her head to look at Abby. There was something in Abby’s face and voice that Elizabeth did not like. I must be imagining it, she thought, but nonetheless replied rather coolly, “I believe they are in Mr. Darcy’s safe.”
The girl’s face fell, and finished Elizabeth’s coiffure in silence.
***
Both Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy awaited Elizabeth in the drawing room. Her husband rose and bowed when she walked in, and she moved to sit beside him on the sofa. She began, cordially, “Miss Darcy, I apologise for not making time to play a duet with you today. It has been a rather busy one.”
“Oh, I know. You met with the maids in the green drawing room.”
Elizabeth was surprised that Miss Darcy knew of her doings. “Yes, quite right.”
Miss Darcy continued, “The house is abuzz with it, you know.”
“No, I did not know! For what reason, pray?”
Miss Darcy looked uncomfortable now. “Well – it is not usual, is it?’
“No, indeed, as the introduction generally takes place as soon as the mistress of the house arrives, but things were rather – well, out of kilter when I arrived, if that is not too strong a term.”
“I suppose I could have called everyone together, once it became apparent that my careful arrangements had fallen apart,” Mr. Darcy said, ruefully.
“No, I do not think you could have; there was too much high emotion at the time. But no matter; I will meet with another group of servants tomorrow, and will continue until I have introduced myself to everyone. Now, then, enough of that! Miss Darcy, how was your day?”
The girl spoke, hesitantly at first, but with increasing ardour, of the music she had played, which passages had been difficult, her plans for the morrow’s practice, and so on. Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth traded glances; it was clear that she had done nothing other than play the pianoforte.
Once his sister had stopped speaking, Mr. Darcy turned to Elizabeth and said, “ Harp of the North! that mouldering long hast hung, On the witch-elm that shades Saint Fillan's spring.”
“ Lady of the Lake ,” she replied, promptly.
Miss Darcy’s eyes opened wide. “Is it a competition?”
Mr. Darcy replied, “It is, and so far I believe neither of us has bested the other.”
Elizabeth added, “It is my father’s game; it is called First Line. One person says the first line or sentence of a poem or book, and the others in the room guess the name of the work. It need not be a complete sentence, as many sentences are quite long. Just enough to give the other players a fair chance.”
“May I play as well?”
“Of course!”
Miss Darcy screwed up her face in thought, and then finally said, “ Methinks, Oh! vain ill-judging Book, I see thee cast a wishful look .”
Elizabeth clapped her hands. “Oh! The Monk ! Well done, Miss Darcy!”
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “I did not know that one.”
“It is a romance, not your preferred form of reading,” Elizabeth said. “My sisters and I read romances aloud to one another in the drawing room after dinner every evening, so I have rather the advantage in that particular genre.”
“It must be so nice to have sisters,” Miss Darcy said, quite softly.
“It is nice, so imagine how happy I was to learn that I had a sister ready-made for me here at Pemberley,” Elizabeth smiled at Miss Darcy, not adding the sad truth of how that ready-made sister had treated her.
But Miss Darcy surprised her by saying, “I have not been a very good sister, though, have I? No, you need not reply; I know what my behaviour has been.”
Forced into honesty, at least of a sort, Elizabeth replied, “Well, you were surprised to learn that you had a sister; much may be forgiven on that score.”
“No, no, you shall not excuse me,” Miss Darcy said, determinedly. “It is only that I do not know how to be a good sister to you while still being a good daughter to my mother.”
Elizabeth was surprised; she had not expected that much self-awareness from this shy young girl. But before she could reply, Mr. Darcy intervened. “You should never have been called upon to make that choice, Georgiana.”
“It does not matter; that is the choice that is before me, and I know not what to do. But,” and now she cast a soulful glance at Elizabeth. “At least we may call one another by our given names, if you are still willing to allow that.”
“Nothing would make me happier, Georgiana,” was the staunch reply. “My name is Elizabeth, but my family often calls me Lizzy.”
“Lizzy! Oh, I like that very much! My brother and I have such long names.”
“Then Lizzy it is.”
And just then dinner was announced, and they went in.
“Mother is still not joining us?” Georgiana asked, worriedly.
“This is her own choice, remember,” her brother said.
“I cannot help feeling that we are ignoring her.”
“Is it not she who is ignoring us?” he returned.
Elizabeth interjected, “You may feel better if you spend some time with her each day, Georgiana. Perhaps if she sees that you have accepted the situation, she will as well.
“That is a good idea, Lizzy; I will do so.”