Chapter 16
The gardens at Rosings Park, though extensive and carefully maintained, possessed less of natural beauty than of deliberate arrangement.
Every path appeared to have been planned with a particular effect in mind, and even the trees, though grown to maturity, seemed placed rather than discovered.
It was a landscape designed to impress, and while it could not be denied that it succeeded, the impression it produced was not always one of ease.
Nonetheless, Darcy walked there often during his visits to Rosings. On one morning early in their stay, the pleasures of the grounds were added to considerably by the company of Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
Fitzwilliam, who rarely allowed formality to govern his enjoyment of anything, had already adapted himself to the surroundings with complete indifference to their grandeur. As they turned along one of the broader walks, he cast a look toward Georgiana that carried amusement as well as sympathy.
“Well, my dear cousin,” he said, “you have now seen Rosings under its most favourable conditions. I think it only fair to ask whether you regret your decision.”
Georgiana looked at him, a slight colour rising to her cheeks. “My decision?”
“To come at all,” he said. “We warned you, after all. You were not misled as to what you might expect.”
“Georgiana has acquitted herself very well,” Darcy said, glancing toward her with quiet approval. “There is no reason to suppose my sister regrets joining the visit.”
Fitzwilliam smiled. “I am not so certain. There are trials yet to come. Our aunt is not always content to exhaust herself in a single day.”
Georgiana’s lips curved, though she did not immediately answer. “It has been difficult,” she said at last, choosing her words with care, “but I am glad that I came.”
Fitzwilliam raised his brows slightly. “Glad?”
“Yes,” she said, more steadily. “I should regret it now if I had been too cowardly to join you. I am glad that I tried, however difficult our aunt may be.”
Darcy looked at her more directly. There was still hesitation in her manner, but it no longer governed her entirely. “You are right,” he said. “It is better to discover what one can endure than to avoid the trial altogether.”
Georgiana seemed to take comfort in this. “It makes me feel,” she added after a moment, “as though I have grown a little.”
Fitzwilliam gave a small laugh. “Then Rosings may be said to have some use after all.”
Darcy smiled warmly at his sister. “I believe you are growing up, Georgiana.”
Georgiana glanced between them, her expression softening. “You are both very kind.”
“Not kind,” Fitzwilliam said. “Merely observant. It is no small thing to withstand our aunt without retreat.”
“I have not always been composed,” she said.
“You have been composed enough,” Darcy replied. “And more importantly, you have not allowed discomfort to determine your conduct.”
She considered this, then inclined her head as though accepting the distinction.
They walked on for a short distance without speaking; in the absence of conversation, the gravel crunched audibly beneath their steps. The morning was mild, and though the season had not yet fully declared itself, there was a sense of change in the air.
Georgiana’s attention, which had been directed ahead, shifted after a few moments as though some thought had occurred to her which she was not entirely certain how to express. She walked on in silence for several steps, then glanced toward Darcy with a hesitation that did not escape him.
“Brother,” she said, “may I ask you something?”
“You may always ask me anything,” he replied.
Georgiana seemed reassured by this, though she still spoke with care. “It concerns our cousin.”
Darcy understood her immediately. “You are speaking of Anne?”
“Yes.” Georgiana lowered her eyes briefly before continuing. “I do not think I have ever seen her walk as we are doing now. She always appears…so still. I wondered whether she is unwell, or whether she is not permitted to do more.”
Her two guardians exchanged a look, though neither spoke at once.
“It is not easily answered,” Fitzwilliam said at last. “Anne has never been strong. That, at least, is certain.”
Darcy inclined his head slightly. “She has been considered delicate from a very early age. Our aunt has always taken the greatest care of her.”
Georgiana listened, though there was something in her expression which suggested she was not entirely satisfied.
“But does she wish to remain so quiet?” she asked. “Or is it thought better for her?”
Darcy hesitated. It was not a question he could answer plainly without speaking more freely than he ought, yet neither did he wish to dismiss it. “I do not know that her wishes have been much consulted,” he said.
Fitzwilliam gave a small, thoughtful nod. “There are many advantages to being told what is best for one,” he said, his tone light but not without meaning. “Though they are not always equally felt.”
Georgiana considered this in silence for a moment. “I think I should not like it,” she said at last.
Darcy looked at her, considering. “No,” he said. “I do not believe you would.”
She glanced between them, and though there was no defiance in her manner, there was a quiet firmness which had not always been present. “I am very glad, then,” she said, “that I am not under my aunt’s direction.”
Fitzwilliam smiled. “As are we all.”
Darcy met her eyes steadily, though he had to stop them both walking and turn to her to do it.
It was a subject on which no doubt should be permitted.
“You are under the direction of those who intend you to grow strong in mind and body, and believe you must test your strength a little to do so,” he said. “That is a very different thing.”
Georgiana accepted this thoughtfully, nodding. The idea appeared to settle in her mind with some weight. “I had not considered it before,” she said, “but I believe I understand the difference now.”
They resumed their walk without further discussion of the subject, yet the tone of it lingered. Darcy found himself reflecting, not for the first time, on the manner in which his aunt governed her household, and the consequences of such authority when exercised without restraint.
The path, having gradually curved away from the more formal arrangement of the grounds, opened at last into a wider stretch where nature was at last left a little more to itself and even the air seemed less confined.
Fitzwilliam, to whom the narrow paths of the formal gardens must seem particularly narrow, glanced ahead with approval before turning again to Georgiana.
“Well,” he said, “having improved yourself and formed opinions on our aunt’s management, you must now consider the next trial.”
Georgiana looked at him with mild curiosity. “Another?”
“Certainly. You cannot suppose that Rosings offers only one difficulty. We are to have guests from the parsonage this evening.”
She brightened at once, though she checked herself almost immediately. “Yes. I had almost forgotten.”
“I assure you, our aunt has not,” Fitzwilliam remarked dryly. “You know how she enjoys having a wider audience. I only hope the Collinses and their guests are prepared.”
Georgiana smiled. “I, too. But I shall look forward to having others with whom to share our aunt’s attention.”
Fitzwilliam laughed. “That is a very positive outlook, Georgie, and excellent strategy. One needn’t bear all the enemy’s fire alone.”
“Come now, cousin,” Darcy chided him, though he could not entirely suppress a grin. “Do not teach my impressionable sister to think of our aunt as the enemy. Surely all three of us owe Lady Catherine our respect, even if she can be difficult at times.”
Fitzwilliam held up his hands in surrender. “Quite right. Listen to Darcy, Georgiana. I allowed myself to be carried away by jesting. But let us forget this. We were speaking of pleasanter things. So you are looking forward to supper with company, then?”
She nodded. “I am.” Georgiana hesitated, then added, “Miss Bennet will be there.”
Darcy’s attention sharpened, though he took care not to betray it. “Yes,” he said simply. “I am sure she will be.”
“I was glad to meet her,” Georgiana continued. “She was very kind.”
Fitzwilliam glanced toward Darcy casually. “Was she?”
“She spoke to me as though I had nothing to fear in speaking to her,” Georgiana said. “It made it much easier.”
Darcy smiled unthinkingly. “She has that effect.”
Georgiana nodded. “I hope I may speak with her again.”
“You will have the opportunity this evening,” Fitzwilliam said. “And I am sure you will find her as agreeable over supper as on a first meeting.”
Darcy did not immediately speak. The prospect, though not unexpected, had already begun to occupy his thoughts more than it should.
There had been, in their last meeting, something altered from what he had known before, something less guarded and more easily felt, though he could not yet determine whether it belonged to her manner or his own perception of it.
“I have no doubt of it,” he said at last.
Fitzwilliam studied him for a moment, then smiled slightly. “You are remarkably reserved on the subject.”
Darcy met his glance levelly. “I have no reason to be otherwise.”
“None at all,” Fitzwilliam returned. “Only that you say so little where others might say a great deal.”
“I prefer to say only what is necessary.”
“And yet,” Fitzwilliam said, “you appear to think a great deal more.”
Darcy did not answer this.
Georgiana, who had been listening with increasing curiosity, looked between them. “I think Miss Bennet very agreeable,” she said, as though to restore the conversation to safer ground.
“So do we all,” Fitzwilliam replied.
Darcy inclined his head slightly, though he did not trust himself to enlarge on it.