Chapter 36
Elizabeth hesitated for some time before taking that step towards thanking Mr Darcy. There were several reasons for her reticence, but above all, the immense shame she felt before him, for he had witnessed the full degradation of her sister.
“Stop,” Agnes told her. “That is precisely the one reason you must not consider, because it springs from pride. The very thing you reproached him with for so long.”
It was true, and Elizabeth tried with all her strength to overcome her tendency toward pride when it was about her family.
She had to go in person. A letter would not suffice.
She needed to look into his eyes and thank him, but at the same time allow him to see how deeply she regretted the arrogance with which she had once believed her family superior to his.
Once again, Agnes brought her back to reason.
“You have nothing to reproach yourself with except your anger. You did not defend your mother or Lydia. You defended the idea of family itself, which everyone ought to respect.”
Elizabeth’s hesitation ended abruptly one morning when Lydia revealed something that staggered them all.
With the same thoughtlessness that seemed only to have increased since she regarded herself as a married woman, she disclosed a secret she had promised to keep.
Mr Darcy had paid Wickham’s gambling debts, amounting to somewhere near five thousand pounds.
The shock was so great that for several minutes nobody could speak.
Only the ladies were present, but Mrs Gardiner immediately sent for her husband, who confirmed the story.
Faced with this new disaster, Elizabeth asked Agnes to arrange a visit to the Darcys under the standing invitation Miss Darcy had extended.
“I should like to go to that jeweller and sell the cameo,” she whispered.
Agnes rose at once and almost dragged her into the music room so that they might be alone.
“You will do no such thing,” she said firmly. “He has no need of money, and once again it is pride speaking. That man wishes only to help you, and money means nothing to him. He certainly does not want those five thousand pounds returned, but perhaps he would not refuse the cameo.”
It was a small trap Agnes laid for her, for she was determined that Elizabeth should go and speak to him. At the same time, she was perfectly certain that he would never accept the cameo back.
∞∞∞
With the cameo concealed in her purse, Elizabeth set out for the Darcys’ one bright morning, so unlike the turmoil within her. She would have preferred Agnes to accompany her, but that very morning both children had fallen ill, and her friend had been obliged to remain at home.
The invitation had come from Miss Darcy, yet their relationship allowed her to ask whether her brother might also receive her for a few moments.
She found herself before their house entirely unprepared, for it had proved impossible to put her thoughts in order during the ride.
She looked with admiration at the handsome stone townhouse rising behind black iron railings in one of the most fashionable streets in London.
The tall windows and elegant doorway, framed by columns, proclaimed wealth without ostentation, yet quietly affirmed the family’s place in London society.
She was pleased that the first of his houses she had seen had been Pemberley, which had charmed her from the first moment.
Both houses were magnificent, yet whilst Pemberley seemed to place all its grandeur at the service of a family’s happiness, the vast white marble hall, dominated by a sweeping staircase of noble wood and furnished with elegant pieces, spoke instead of pride and position in society.
Georgiana appeared immediately and welcomed her warmly into the drawing room.
Only then did the bashfulness that had settled upon Elizabeth begin to disappear, discovering a room full of life.
The carpet had clearly been disturbed by Georgiana’s haste.
Books lay open, sheets of music were scattered across a table, and her shawl had fallen beside the sofa, creating a delightful disorder that contrasted strongly with the elegance of the room itself.
Elizabeth glanced at the books and stooped to pick up two sheets of music.
“I know,” said Georgiana. “I am untidy. But I am trying to prepare myself and choose the music I shall play, because Fitzwilliam is planning a dinner for Mrs Cooper and the colonel—”
She broke off suddenly and burst into laughter.
“Well, I have clear orders from the colonel not to call her Mrs Cooper. She must now be addressed as the future Mrs Fitzwilliam.”
Her cheerfulness was infectious.
Seating herself in a comfortable armchair, Elizabeth entered the game with pleasure. “Well, the future Mrs Fitzwilliam sends her apologies, but both children fell ill during the night.”
“I am sorry for the children, but I am delighted to have you here. You cannot imagine what it meant to me to meet you at Pemberley and to have the honour of becoming your friend.”
She paused again, though this time a blush rose to her cheeks as she looked at Elizabeth with evident uncertainty.
“Do not doubt that I consider you my friend as well,” said Elizabeth, who had recognised from the beginning Georgiana’s need for female companionship.
“And Fitzwilliam is delighted that you are in London.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to look at her carefully.
Yet the young woman was entirely free from malice or hidden meaning.
Elizabeth doubted very much that Fitzwilliam was pleased by the arrival of the Bennet family in London.
Still, she refrained from saying so, for it was obvious that Georgiana knew nothing of what had occurred during the previous fortnight.
But she was curious to know how Georgiana had concluded that he was happy about her presence in London.
“Do you think so?” she asked directly, looking at her.
“With complete certainty,” replied Georgiana firmly. “When we arrived in London, I found him greatly changed from the gentleman he had been at Pemberley, more thoughtful and reserved; but ever since he learnt that you too had come here, he has seemed…lighter.”
Georgiana paused again. As she had done more than once already, she hesitated before the final word and fell silent, standing still uncertain upon that boundary between childhood and maturity, yet eager to appear a young lady entirely sure of herself.
“I doubt I can have had any influence upon it,” replied Elizabeth.
Without intending it, those words unleashed an adorable torrent concerning her brother and Pemberley, mixing everything together and, in the end, Elizabeth herself.
Georgiana spoke, smiled, and blushed in delightful succession, revealing, willingly or not, a truth she had evidently felt compelled to express.
Yet when she said, “My brother is different when you are near him,” it became clear that she knew what she was talking about.
That unsettled Elizabeth still more, for of one thing she was certain: Darcy would never use his sister to convey a message.
And yet Georgiana’s words contained one, though it appeared to come solely from her own observations.
As Elizabeth said nothing, evidently too surprised to speak, Georgiana continued.
“Pemberley has flourished. I do not remember how it was when my mother lived, but everyone has told me the same thing, that at last our home has returned to the cheerfulness it possessed in her time.”
“Perhaps Mr Darcy has finally exhausted the grief he felt after the loss of your parents, and the result has been a desire to restore the traditions your mother established.”
“We exhausted our grief long ago, but our family never returned to what it had been before our parents died,” she replied with sincerity. “Something entirely different is at work. Lady Fletcher told me that Fitzwilliam is at last ready to bring a mistress to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth blushed so deeply that poor Georgiana said, almost fearfully this time, “Forgive me. Forgive me. I do not know what has come over me. I have never spoken so much in all my life. Have I offended you?”
She looked at Elizabeth with alarm, and Elizabeth managed to smile.
“No. Why should you offend me?”
She might have appeared displeased by Georgiana’s frankness, yet in truth she could not remember ever having felt so bewildered and disconcerted.
She loved him; of that she was certain. Yet all their conversations had concerned apologies for what had been wrong or improper in the things they had once said to one another.
Never once had Darcy spoken of his proposal or of the love he had declared then.
His love for her had been crowded between reproaches and conflict, but even that dreadful mixture remained proof of his love.
At Pemberley, he had behaved as though friendship were all he now felt for her.
Against such a thing, she could not contend.
Georgiana’s awkward and incomplete words had revealed another possibility. Perhaps he still loved her.
“I have offended you. It is perfectly clear,” murmured Georgiana.
“No. I am disconcerted, not offended,” Elizabeth replied firmly, for she felt the need to speak honestly.
“Why are you disconcerted?”
“By what you have said.”
The girl pressed her hands to her cheeks, as though wishing either to hide herself or apologise.
“Good heavens, I scarcely know what I have said. But I want Fitzwilliam to be happy so very much. And I am certain he has something he wishes to tell you and…he is so reserved that he does not know how.”
At last, Elizabeth smiled. Georgiana’s interpretation of events, her understanding of her brother, was so pure and sincere that Elizabeth could not help loving her for it.
Without glancing at her purse which contained the cameo, for this concerned herself alone, she said, “I, too, have something I should like to tell him.”
“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth?”
The voice came from the doorway.
Both ladies turned with a start towards the door, which had opened without sound, or perhaps they had been too absorbed in their conversation to hear it. One thing, however, was certain. Darcy had heard what they were saying, or at least her final words.
“Georgiana, pray leave us alone.”
“No,” Elizabeth stammered.
Neither of them paid the slightest attention.
She watched him move one of the armchairs and place it directly in front of her. Then he sat down, very close indeed.
“So, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “what is it that you wished to tell me?”