Chapter 9
“I will be well, Elizabeth,” Jane insisted. “Do go along. Molly will care for me, you know.”
“I know she will, and very well,” Elizabeth said, smiling gratefully at her sister’s maid. “I am grieved you continue to feel so unwell in the mornings.”
“It is definitely not pleasant,” Jane said with a grimace, “but at least it is for a good reason. Now as your older sister, I order you to go enjoy yourself.”
“As you wish,” Elizabeth returned and kissed her sister’s forehead and exited the room.
A few minutes later, she had changed into a pair of stout leather boots.
Yesterday, she had foolishly worn more delicate shoes, and thus had been required to walk very carefully to prevent them from being soiled.
The peacocks, while lovely, were also quite messy.
When it was time for her to leave her room, she did so quietly, in part because she did not wish to disturb Jane with a slamming door, but more because she did not wish to encounter Caroline Bingley.
Both of Bingley’s sisters were late risers and thus were likely still either in bed or pottering about in their bedchambers, but Elizabeth was still eager to keep Miss Darcy safe from Miss Bingley’s curiosity.
Elizabeth walked softly to the stairway which led downstairs, then along the corridor to the rose garden.
As usual, she was filled with wonder and was inclined to amble slowly, the better to enjoy the flowers.
However, it was nearly eleven o’clock, and Miss Darcy seemed to appreciate timeliness.
She would have plenty of time to enjoy the roses later.
When she reached the edge of the rose garden, she paused again and looked around, feeling rather like a spy in a hostile land.
Based on his words the previous day, Mr. Darcy was protective of his sister, and Elizabeth could not blame him for that.
She hoped that Miss Darcy had told her brother of Elizabeth’s incursion into the walled garden.
Indeed, she needed to be certain of it, and would ask Miss Darcy today.
Worse than Mr. Darcy observing her would be Miss Bingley. Caroline would bray questions, and Elizabeth would be forced to go elsewhere to protect Miss Darcy from Caroline’s irritating presence.
Elizabeth was a quick walker, and she crossed the greenery in record time. The door was open, and she scuttled through and closed it, then laughed as she felt her heart beating rapidly in her chest. It was not as if there was any real danger, after all!
Once her heart had settled, she walked toward the trees, beyond which she could hear a strange sound mixed in with two voices.
When she had passed between the trees, she observed Georgiana standing across from a man dressed in the simple garb of an outdoor servant.
The man had a large male peacock wrapped in a sheet of burlap, and was pinioning the body and tail feathers with his own strong, muscular arms.
“I have him, Miss Darcy,” the man said as Elizabeth looked on curiously.
“Hold him very still, Abel,” Georgiana directed, pulling out the bird’s left wing and carefully, cautiously, cutting the feathers of the wing along a line. Elizabeth watched in breathless silence until Miss Darcy said, “There, that should be enough. You can release him.”
The peacock, who had held surprisingly still for the delicate operation, flounced off squawking, and Georgiana turned and jumped as she observed Elizabeth standing nearby.
“I am sorry, Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said remorsefully. “I did not mean to startle you.”
“Is it eleven o’clock?” Georgiana asked, brushing her gloved hands together.
“It is two minutes after the hour,” Elizabeth said after peeking at the watch dangling around her neck.
“Then you have no reason to apologize, because I told you to be here at eleven.”
“Thank you. May I ask what you did to that peacock?”
Georgiana wandered over to sit on a wooden bench placed on a patch of grass and explained, “Abel and I clipped Neptune’s wings because he kept trying to fly over the wall. He would not be safe outside, since there are numerous predators, like foxes and dogs.”
Neptune, Elizabeth presumed, was the peacock in question. “It does not hurt him?”
“No, not at all,” Georgiana assured her. “It is entirely safe to cut the flight feathers of peafowl, chickens, ducks, and geese, and it is advisable if flying will put them in danger. Do sit down, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth obediently took her place next to Georgiana and said, “In truth, I find it remarkable that peacocks can fly. They are beautiful, of course, but seem quite ungainly.”
“They do not generally fly far,” Miss Darcy agreed.
“Most of our peacocks were hatched here at Pemberley or were brought here when still very young, and this garden is their home. My brother gave me Neptune as a birthday present a month ago. He has not adjusted to his surroundings and thus keeps flying up and over the wall. Abel has had to retrieve him several times, and it is only a matter of time before he encounters a dog or other predator if he keeps escaping.”
Privately, Elizabeth wondered why Miss Darcy wished for a peacock when she had the ability to hatch out new ones, but she merely said, “He seems a fine specimen.”
Georgiana’s eyes lit up and she said, “He is very special. Abel!”
“Yes, Miss Darcy?” the man answered from his place over by the peachick pen, where he was throwing grain to the babies.
“Can you capture Neptune again? I wish to show Miss Bennet his tail feathers.”
The servant, a man of some forty years, smiled tolerantly and said, “Of course, Miss Darcy.”
Elizabeth stood up and watched curiously as the man approached Neptune, confidently grabbed the bird’s large body, and walked back to the two women.
“Look at this,” Georgiana directed, gently shifting Neptune’s train of feathers.
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Two of the feathers are white! Is that common?”
“Not at all,” her hostess said excitedly. “That is why I was so pleased when my brother bought him for me. Very few peafowl are piebald. I am hopeful that Neptune will breed soon and that some of his babies will have white feathers too. Is it not marvelous?”
She nodded to Abel, who carefully lowered the peacock onto the ground.
The bird, apparently irritated with being handled so much, tried to take flight but instead lurched to one side, obviously out of balance because of his recently shortened wing.
Abel watched with a smile until Neptune strutted over to a nearby tree, and then, with a tip of his hat, the man strode to another door in the rear wall and exited the garden, leaving Elizabeth and Miss Darcy alone.
“Neptune is incredible,” Elizabeth agreed, her eyes fixed on the large bird. “I have never heard of peacocks with any white coloring.”
“Oh, there is a painting in the library of a piebald peacock,” Georgiana explained eagerly. “That is how I learned that such birds exist. My brother is always so very kind to me, and he arranged to buy one for a surprise.”
“You are fortunate to have such a caring brother,” Elizabeth said, and she meant it.
Whatever else could be said about the man, it was obvious that Mr. Darcy cared deeply about his sister.
It was odd, really, that the man had apparently treated Mr. Wickham, a most charming, amiable man, with such cruelty in the manner of the promised church living.
Of course, she had only known Mr. Wickham for a few months; people did change over time, and perhaps Mr. Wickham had, in his younger years, grievously offended Mr. Darcy in some way.
“Would you like to see my books about peacocks in the library?” Miss Darcy asked.
“Very much,” Elizabeth responded. “Truthfully, I have longed to see the library at Pemberley ever since Mr. Bingley told me of it. He says that it has been the work of many generations.”
“My brother is very proud of it,” Georgiana said, though not with any great enthusiasm. “I am grateful that the library contains books on animals and birds, but I find most of the books to be boring, irritating, or confusing.”
“What books do you consider irritating?” Elizabeth inquired as her companion stood up. She rose to her feet as well and followed Miss Darcy as she began walking toward the door of the walled garden.
“I find some of Shakespeare’s work to be exasperating,” Georgiana said.
“My governesses forced me to read a number of his tragedies and comedies, and even some of his poetry. The tragedies, in particular, were ridiculous and frustrating. Romeo and Juliet, for example, has an entirely absurd plot! Juliet drinks a potion that mimics death, and Romeo foolishly believes she is dead, and kills himself by drinking poison, and then, just as he dies, Juliet wakes up and discovers he is dead, and kills herself. It is entirely unrealistic!”
“I do not believe it is meant to be realistic,” Elizabeth said in amusement.
Georgiana passed through the gateway onto the outer lawn and, after locking the door behind Elizabeth, said reasonably, “I do not understand why I should enjoy a sad story that is ridiculous. Why should I mourn over a character who died due to his or her own stupidity?”
“I do not have an answer to that,” Elizabeth admitted. “Do you like Shakespeare’s comedies?”
Georgiana walked halfway across the lawn before saying, “I saw The Tempest in London some years ago. I enjoyed it, largely because the scenery and costumes were interesting. I did not mind the confusing aspects of the story, because the entire affair, with sorcerers and magicians and magical spirits, is fantastical. Romeo and Juliet is supposed to be about normal people, and I do not think a normal person would act in such an idiotic way.”
“Nor are there potions which can make one appear dead,” Elizabeth mused as the women entered a door into a side hall of Pemberley. She had never been in this part of the house before and found herself looking around curiously.