Chapter 28 A Letter from Rosings
A LETTER FROM ROSINGS
The following morning broke crisp and clear, the grey chill of January softened by the scent of strong tea and fresh rolls.
Breakfast had begun with familiar comfort: Elizabeth reading aloud from a note regarding their next fittings, and Darcy content to let the rhythm of domestic life unfold without urgency.
That peace was gently interrupted by the arrival of Williams, who approached with a silver tray and a discreet bow.
“A letter, sir. Delivered from Rosings Park. The footman departed at once.”
Darcy accepted the envelope with a nod, already knowing the hand before he broke the seal.
“It is from my aunt,” he said, the words clipped.
Elizabeth, pouring tea, raised one brow. “I could have guessed as much from the stiffness of the fold. Pray, does she scold us for dancing in the drawing room?”
Darcy gave the briefest snort before scanning the first lines. “No. She is concerned for Georgiana’s ‘want of proper direction” He turned a page. “And she has taken the liberty of drafting a list of suitable gowns, as well as rehearsed remarks for the presentation itself.”
“How industrious of her,” Elizabeth murmured, passing him his cup. “Does she also suggest a bow to the Archbishop while Georgiana curtseys to the Queen?”
Darcy ignored the tea. His eyes had fixed on another line. “‘It is my duty,’ she writes, ‘to remind you of your father’s intentions, and to caution you against surrendering Miss Darcy to influences which are untried and unfit for the station she must occupy”
Elizabeth’s lips curved, though not in amusement. “I believe I may safely assume I am the unfit influence in question.”
He met her gaze, his expression darkening. “It is intolerable.”
“It is her way,” Elizabeth said evenly. “And it is nothing Georgiana does not already fear. Better we face it openly.”
Darcy folded the letter, his movements sharp. “She shall not see it.”
But even as he spoke, the door opened and Georgiana entered, a book in hand, with Kitty at her side, both carrying the air of young ladies who had already shared a private word or two on their way downstairs.
Georgiana paused at once, noting her brother’s expression, while Kitty looked from him to Elizabeth with lively curiosity.
“Is something amiss?” Georgiana asked, her hand tightening faintly upon the book she carried.
Darcy hesitated, the folded sheet still in his hand. He was tempted to dismiss it as nothing, to spare his sister the sting. Yet Elizabeth’s look was steady, and at last he set the letter upon the table.
“It is from Rosings,” he said. “You may read it if you wish.”
Kitty leaned closer, her brows rising as Georgiana scanned the page. Colour rose in Georgiana’s cheeks, but when she set the letter down her composure was steady.
“I had wondered when she would write,” she said softly. “It is worse in tone than I expected. Yet not… entirely unexpected.”
Kitty crossed her arms with sudden firmness. “She has no right to order you about, Georgiana. And if she tries, we shall all stand against her. Lizzy too.”
Elizabeth’s smile warmed. “Indeed we shall.”
Darcy looked at his sister again, pride stirring as he saw the quiet resolve in her expression. Georgiana had always been gentle, but now she looked less like a girl being scolded and more like a young woman learning to choose her own ground.
Darcy half rose from his chair. “You need not mind it. Her claims have no weight here.”
Georgiana looked at him then at Elizabeth.
For a moment she seemed to waver, but her voice, when it came, was steady.
“She has always frightened me more than she should. But now I think, if she cannot approve of my being guided by Lady Matlock, then she will never approve at all. And I cannot wait upon her pleasure forever.”
Elizabeth reached across the table and touched her hand lightly. “That is very well said.”
Darcy sat back, his gaze fixed upon his sister with mingled pride and wonder. “Then I shall answer her.”
The answer, however, proved more easily determined than written. Darcy sat down in his study an hour later with the letter before him, his pen poised but unmoving. At last Elizabeth joined him, a sheet of fresh paper in her hand.
“Perhaps brevity is best,” she said. “A few lines to thank her for her interest, and to assure her that Georgiana is already well provided for in every way that matters. Nothing more.”
Darcy studied her for a long moment, then nodded.
His pen scratched quickly over the page: a courteous acknowledgement, a clear statement that Lady Matlock would serve as sponsor, and a firm conclusion that no further interference was required.
When it was sealed, he felt lighter than he had in years.
That evening, the letter was dispatched.
At supper, the matter was raised once more, though in lighter tone. Richard, who had been informed of the morning’s correspondence, leaned back in his chair with a grin. “So my formidable aunt has at last been answered? I would give a month’s pay to see her expression when she reads it.”
The laughter faded into easier conversation, and soon the ladies were speaking of the morrow’s fitting.
Elizabeth reminded Georgiana that the modiste had promised to call before noon, and Kitty, her eyes alight, declared she would sit with her through every pin and tuck, no matter how many hours it required.
It was then, as Georgiana mentioned the gown’s train being adjusted for the long curtsey, that Darcy looked up with a start.
“Thursday?” he asked, more sharply than he intended.
Elizabeth met his gaze across the table, her expression gentle. “Yes, Fitzwilliam. The presentation is on Thursday.”
Darcy was silent for a moment, the truth settling in.
His birthday. For an instant, a foolish pang of neglect stirred, quickly mastered, yet sharp enough to surprise him.
The house had been so full of Georgiana’s rehearsals and Elizabeth’s cheerful management that the day had slipped from his own mind.
He glanced between them, wondering if it had entirely slipped from theirs as well.
Georgiana, catching his look, laid her hand over his. “Do not be anxious, Brother. I feel more ready than I ever thought I would.”
Darcy forced a smile, the tension easing though not vanishing. “Then I shall be ready too.”
Elizabeth’s eyes held his, bright with some unspoken knowledge. “We all shall.”
The conversation turned again to pins and feathers, but Darcy remained quiet, thoughtful. Thursday would bring more than one occasion, and though he said nothing of it, the thought lingered with him long after the candles burned low.