Jane (The Ladies of Pemberley #4)

1

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that daughters give their mothers far more concern throughout their lives than do their sons. The mistress of Pemberley, Elizabeth Darcy, believed in that saying with all her heart when facing her usually sweet-natured and biddable daughter, Jane.

The halls and rooms of the great house were dim, the curtains and blinds drawn against the warmth of the late summer sun.

Out in the rose gardens, visitors were sitting under parasols, sipping cool lemonade, talking to her other daughters, Anne and Bennetta.

She needed to attend to them immediately but Jane had been so elusive of late that coming across her on the stairs had provided an unexpected opportunity to confront her.

She tried again with barely concealed impatience. “Jane, dear child, you are being stubborn. Anne insists she had no intention of hurting you; refusing to speak to her, running off to Colonel Fitzwilliam in Dorset, neither of these will solve the problem.”

“Mama, I just need to get away. I feel so hurt, so betrayed.

Anne might not have meant to ruin my life, but that is what she has done! How can I possibly face her every morning across the breakfast table, knowing that Digby proposed marriage to her?

When I thought … I believed …”

Digby! Digby Frobisher! Elizabeth rued the day she had ever heard the name, bitterly regretting inviting him into their social circle. The handsome, fair haired young man had managed to wreck their peaceful lives in just a few months.

She tried again: she was concerned—Jane was normally pale, a frail, slighter version of her more robust twin.

Their faces were identical in form, but Jane’s hair when unbound was a shower of gilt, Anne’s a dark gold. Jane’s eyes were the blue of a robin’s egg whilst Anne’s gaze was harder, a sparkling cold sapphire.

But now Jane was not just pale: she was white and the great dark circles under her eyes spoke of sleepless nights.

“Jane, you never gave any indication that you had formed deep feelings for Digby. I had no idea. Surely Digby himself did not know. Anne has told me that she only guessed and was quite sure he was not the right man for you. She wanted to show you how fickle he was, that he was quite happy to transfer his attentions to her if she showed him they might be reciprocated.”

“I am not the sort of girl, Mama, who goes around telling men how she feels about them! I am convinced Digby knew. He has broken my heart and Anne, however kindly meant her actions were, has aided him.”

Elizabeth stared at her helplessly. How like her dear namesake, Jane Bingley, she was.

Memories of how Charles Bingley had been persuaded that Jane did not love him because she did not show her feelings, came flooding back. Had this been a similar situation?

Had Digby really thought that Anne’s flirtation meant she cared for him, whilst Jane’s behaviour painted a picture of indifference?

“I am sure your heart is not broken—perhaps just badly dented! Well, Jane, I cannot stop you travelling down to Dorset to stay with your godfather. Perhaps a few weeks in his sensible, quiet company is just what you need.”

“Thank you, Mama.”

“Now, go and wash your face and come down to admire baby Victoria. Cassandra is so pleased with her little girl, although I don’t think your Aunt Lydia is as enamoured as the rest of the family.”

Becoming a grandmother is a momentous event in a lady’s life.

Sadly, Mrs Lydia Allerton, did not agree.

Leaving her husband at home—Colonel Allerton maintained that the Derbyshire air did not suit him, although Lydia knew it was her brother-in-law’s disdain he disliked—she had reluctantly travelled from Newcastle to inspect Miss Victoria Courtney.

Now, sitting under a pink sunshade umbrella in the Pemberley rose garden, she tried to look enthusiastic as she gazed down at the bundle in her arms. But the screwed up red face under the white lace bonnet did not enchant her and only added to her sense of outrage at this further marker of the passage of time.

“You had better take her, Cassandra,” she said to her daughter, holding out the infant. “I think she should go back inside before she starts crying.”

“Why, Grandmama Lydia, anyone would think you weren’t mightily impressed by your granddaughter.”

Elizabeth Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She found the thought of her little sister’s new title amusing in the extreme, but on the other hand, it made her realise just how quickly the years were passing. Indeed, her oldest children would be twenty this coming Christmas.

“Lord, Lizzy, I’m sure she’s a very fine baby,” Lydia said with a sigh of relief as her daughter carried her precious child away.

“But the fuss they make of her has to be seen to be believed. Wyvern Lodge is in a constant turmoil with people rushing around as soon as the child makes a sound. I’ve told Cassie to let her scream upstairs out of earshot, but she refuses to heed me. ”

She reached for a glass of iced lemonade and laid back in her chair in satisfaction.

It was a hot day; sitting in the shade, in the rose garden of Pemberley, all was quiet elegance, the air heavy with perfume.

The only sounds were some sparrows squabbling in a lavender bush and the trickle of a little fountain nearby.

It wouldn’t have suited her to live in such peace all the time—no, she preferred a noisier, busier life—but for an hour it was pleasant. She shut her eyes and very shortly a small snore rose into the perfumed air.

Elizabeth glanced across at the woman sitting quietly under the second umbrella. Miss Susannah Courtney, aunt to baby Vicky, had said very little since she arrived with the Courtney party on this visit to Pemberley.

In her late thirties, Susannah was a neat, brown-haired person with a gentle expression and soft voice.

Although in no way subservient, she tended to keep herself in the background at family gatherings and Elizabeth had noticed with exasperation that Lydia treated her almost as if she were a servant instead of a close relation by marriage.

She also noticed that Susannah ignored this, never disturbing the peace with arguments or disagreements.

“Susannah, this might be a good moment for me to speak to you. There has been no opportunity so far today. New infants do tend to take up everyone’s time and attention!”

“Certainly. Is there something I can do for you?”

Elizabeth hesitated and glanced across the rose garden to where Anne and Bennetta were talking to Cassandra. Of her other daughter, Jane, there was still no sign. She sighed: the girl was probably packing, eager to leave Derbyshire at the earliest moment, happy to distance herself from her family.

Elizabeth was at a loss how to heal the wounds that recent events had inflicted. Jane had always been the quiet one of the family, but now it was as if she was on one side of a tightly shut window and everyone else in the world was on the other.

She turned back to Susannah. “I have a great favour to ask of you. Jane intends to travel to Dorset tomorrow, to stay with her godfather, Colonel Fitzwilliam. She has already written to him to expect her. She is determined to go and I cannot persuade her otherwise. Sometimes, even though she is the quietest of my children, there is a very stubborn streak in her character. Mr Darcy says she inherits it from me, but I cannot see the resemblance myself.”

Susannah frowned. “I am aware that she is fond of Mr Darcy’s cousin. She often talks of him.”

“She always runs to Colonel Fitzwilliam as soon as she encounters any difficulty in her life. I have begged her to stay home and sort out the problem, but she refuses. To Dorset she will go. Apparently there has been—well, I cannot call it an argument because no one has raised their voices, but a very unhappy falling out between her and her sister.”

Susannah did not need to ask which sister.

Anne, Jane’s twin, with her blonde beauty and supercilious expression, had never been one of her favourite acquaintances.

Ever since the Darcys and Courtneys had been linked by marriage, Anne had always made Susannah acutely aware that as a woman long past marriageable age, she was just a spinster sister, an unpaid housekeeper for her younger brother and as such of no consequence.

While her circumstances were entirely true, it was, nevertheless impolite in the extreme to make such a distinction.

“How can I help?” She was fond of Jane and had always disliked the way she was constantly put in the background by her domineering twin, always deferring to her wishes and had often hoped that one day she would stand up for herself.

“Will you … is it possible for you to accompany Jane? I worry about her so much. I do not like the thought of her travelling on her own when she is in such a distressed state of mind. I fear I would not rest easily at night, although she has been to Dorset by herself before, of course. She was there just after Christmas. I would send Bennetta with her, but the last thing Jane needs now is the company of a beautiful, self-confident young girl.”

Susannah felt her lips twitching and fought to keep a straight face. “Well, you can certainly not call me beautiful or young, and although I think I have my fair share of confidence, I shall do my best to hide it in front of Jane!”

“Oh I am so sorry … I …”

“Please! I quite understand. My feelings are not hurt in the slightest. I would love to visit Dorset. It is not a county I have ever explored. I always travel north, of course, when I visit the family at Courtney Castle.”

“Could Richard spare you?”