To Teach the Admiring Multitude

by Eleanor Wilton

  If Mrs. Gardiner occasionally admonished the girls for the little peace they allowed Georgiana, the boys were not less infatuated with their newly acquired tall and imposing cousin. Of a morning Darcy would take the small boys to the stables and patiently display to them the many horses and ponies; London boys that they were, unfamiliar with the ways of a country estate, he encouraged them to grow familiar to the liveliness of the dogs and promised to take them fishing when they returned in warmer weather. On dry days he pointed out the best trees for climbing, though the youngest was hardly capable of executing a climb.

  Elizabeth was delighted and more than a little surprised to discover her husband’s fondness for and facility with children—it was something she had not anticipated in the least. She had been particularly delighted when one evening, before they were sent to bed, Darcy gathered the children to his side and entertained them with richly told stories. After they were sent happily to bed, Georgiana came to her brother’s side.

  “It is impossible that you have forgotten my favourite story? Don’t you recall you would tell me the story of the ogre in the garden and the fairy queen over and over again? I never tired. The children would be so amused. Such a humorous, enchanting tale.”

  “I must leave something to entertain them with tomorrow,” he replied evenly, looking over towards Elizabeth. “Look Georgiana, look how I have surprised your sister.”

  “It appears you have,” Mrs. Gardiner laughed. “She is without words and Lizzy is never without words.”

  “I am fond of children, Elizabeth. Does that surprise you?”

  “Yes, I am afraid it does,” she responded with a smile.

  “Why ever should it surprise you?”

  “Children can be loud and disorderly and impertinent. Not characteristics you generally appreciate.”

  Darcy laughed at her own impertinence. “Perhaps, but as these children have so clearly demonstrated since arriving to Pemberley, not all children are like Rousseau’s vaunted wild children[5] with no sense of regulation or civility. They are all well-mannered little people, as one would anticipate from Mrs. Gardiner’s children.”

  Greatly satisfied to have so surprised his wife, Darcy turned to his sister and asked her to play some music. “A lively Scottish air, perhaps, that I might surprise Elizabeth again and invite her to dance a reel.” Turning to Elizabeth with a smile, he stepped close to her and added in a lowered voice not meant for the remainder of the party, “After all, you cannot assume the mischievous motives you once did at Netherfield when you so adamantly refused to dance a reel with me.”

  Elizabeth smiled broadly, the long-ago moment at Netherfield vividly returned to her mind, her impertinent rejection of his invitation and her surprise at his gallant response suddenly fresh in her mind. “And if I reject your invitation again, will you despise me now?”

  “If I could not despise you then,” he replied earnestly, and suddenly aware the moment was grown far too intimate, he took her hand and pressed it briefly within his own before turning to his sister and requesting a less lively piece.

  Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner exchanged a pleased, silent communication between themselves; they were charmed by the playful newlywed affection between the couple. When they had first become acquainted with Mr. Darcy his admiration for their niece had been evident enough; hers had not been so clear. They were pleased to see it so now, for a marriage of unequal affections seemed to them more perilous than one of unequal station. Now Elizabeth was evidently as violently in love as Mr. Darcy, Mr. Gardiner could not prevent offering an amused bon mot at the expense of his niece and they all laughed together with a gratifying sympathy.

  On one unusually warm afternoon a few days after the Gardiners’ arrival, Elizabeth instructed her aunt to dress herself for a lengthy outdoor excursion. Mrs. Gardiner having arrived in the hall well-prepared, Elizabeth led her outside to a waiting phaeton and ponies.

  “It is time to satisfy your caprice, Aunt Gardiner,” Elizabeth declared merrily. “We are to go round the park in just the manner you imagined.”

  “Lizzy!” Mrs. Gardiner laughed, delighted. “This is charming! You will forgive me if I first assure myself, are you quite proficient enough to manage such an adventure? I don’t recall your skill with a horse and cart to be entirely praiseworthy!”

  Elizabeth laughed good-naturedly. “There is no need to fret, my dear aunt. These ponies are of the finest, sweetest, most docile temperament imaginable, and then, I must confess, Mr. Darcy has been giving me lessons that I might be properly prepared to indulge your caprice. We both wish nothing more than to cosset your every whim whilst you are here with us. What is more, he is quite adamant that not every place I might wish to go is accessible on foot, even for my ambitious wanderings, and so he felt it incumbent that I become more skilled with reins and whip than I have hitherto been! He would never approve my taking you around the park if he was not entirely satisfied I have made adequate improvement.”

  “If that be the case, let us tour the park! I place myself entirely in your hands, Lizzy.”

  The ponies indeed proved tractable and easily manageable creatures, and Elizabeth delighted in pointing out new and favoured prospects to her aunt at every turn. When they were a fair distance from the house the weather turned and a cold wind inclined them to turn back before completing the entire tour round the park. As they came around a bend Elizabeth brought the phaeton to a stop. Before them was a charming prospect of the house, so perfectly situated on the banks of a stream and with lovely high wooded hills beyond. Elizabeth reached over to her aunt and pressed her hand. “My dear aunt, to think this place is now my home! It is too astonishing.”

  “I could not be happier than to see you so well and quickly settled in, my love.”

  “I am very well, Aunt. Do not think ill of me if I confess I did not expect Mr. Darcy to be so fine a husband. How can I ever thank you enough? To think of all I should have lost had you not insisted on visiting Pemberley last summer.”

  “To think of all you concealed when we did! But I saw quickly where his affections lay. You both remain very sly and I am certain there is more to know than you have yet ventured to confess.”

  “Some things are best left alone to not allow unhappy memories to intrude upon our present plenitude.”

  “Fear not, Lizzy, I will not scrutinize your secrets. I care only to see you well and happy.”

  “I am truly the most fortunate of women. There is nothing Mr. Darcy would not do for me. I am only afraid of not doing enough for him, of not being enough.”

  “Whatever can you mean?”

  “Look at the house that stands before us. That is a very fine house, my dear aunt. Have you seen the library? I acknowledge I have barely perused beyond a handful of shelves. Have you ever seen so many books in one place? And then, all the artwork: paintings and busts and sculptures and urns and whatnot. Before we left London, Mr. Darcy commissioned some great artists to paint my portrait when we return in February that I might hang in my proper place in the picture gallery. Have you seen the antique Greek vases, the Egyptian artifacts, the fine furnishings, the beautiful instruments, to say nothing of the grounds that even in winter are an absolute delight? This is indisputably a very fine house that requires a very fine mistress and I am afraid I am not a very fine lady,” she concluded with a not entirely persuasive light-heartedness.

  “My dear Lizzy, you are not truly concerned?”

  “Intermittently. In quiet moments when I pause to reflect on what my life now is. I acquitted myself quite well with Lord and Lady Richmond when we were in London. Neither Mr. Darcy’s family nor his friends intimidate me. It is difficult to explain. I have no care for the world’s approbation; my happiness does not depend upon the opinions of people wholly unconnected to me. Yet, I find I have a vexing desire to prove myself worthy of the life he has given me.”

  “Lizzy, you need only give him your best self. Otherwise, leave such thoughts alone. They will not conduct you t
o any positive results. His affection for you is sincere and profound. Has it never occurred to you that by simply loving him in return with equal sincerity you have given him what he lacked for happiness and the one thing he could not simply purchase for himself?”

  “Can it be always so simple, Aunt?”

  “If you and Mr. Darcy wish it to be, yes, it can always be so simple. Every marriage is its own world, Lizzy. It is entirely up to you and your husband to determine what influences you will allow to come to bear upon your marriage. Choose those influences wisely and you will be assured of an ever-increasing intimacy and felicity.”

  “You are very wise, Aunt.”

  “Only be yourself, Lizzy, and you will both have the happiness you desire.” She pressed Elizabeth’s hand. “Come, it grows late and the wind has marred the pleasure of our excursion. We ought to be returning.”

  As they neared the house Mrs. Gardiner saw Mr. Darcy impatiently pacing about the lane looking for their return. They had been gone long, the weather had turned and Elizabeth was no accomplished horsewoman. She turned to her niece and declared softly, “Nurture what is best between you, my love, and everything good will follow.”

  A few days before Christmas, Darcy asked Elizabeth to join him in his study that he might discuss something of import with her. When they entered, he went to the desk, asked her to sit and opened a ledger for her perusal.

  “This is the record of Pemberley’s charity. Obviously at this time of year there is a great deal to be considered. I should like you to become familiar with what we have done in the past, what we will do again this Christmas season. I have fixed monies which I utilize for these purposes and would not expect you to expend your own monies for the same. Next year I am sure you will have your own ideas as to what is appropriate to the occasion. At the moment I would ask you to familiarize yourself with what has been the custom to date, now as well as at other times of year.”

  She scanned the many pages that reflected years of assiduous and constant giving and was astonished by the quantity and regularity of the charity so carefully recorded, to the seemingly smallest of gifts. She ran her fingers over the entries, the even, straight writing: individuals, schools, orphanages, hospitals, homes, one after the other, each dated and annotated with precision and care.

  “This is a very meticulous record,” she observed, thinking of her father’s necessarily more limited, but as well careless, almost thoughtless manner of largess.

  “I am careful with my records,” he responded emphatically.

  “Of course,” she replied quietly. “So many names, so many places.” Elizabeth turned to him and grasped his hand, looked up to him, gazed at him with admiration. “Such generosity and clarity of purpose. I am newly regretful of how terribly I once misjudged you, how willfully in error born from nothing more than wounded pride because you refused to dance with me at the Assembly Ball. Such a petty, prolonged exercise in prejudice.”

  “Do not give my past behaviour a kinder judgement than you once did for our present understanding. I have no wish for such retrospective leniency, nor is it merited. In any case, did you not counsel me to think of the past only as its remembrance brings us pleasure? We were both once in error, both too susceptible to pride and prejudice, all that matters now is that in future we be always kind and forbearing with one another, honest and trusting.”

  She rose and placed her arms around his neck. “And affectionate, my darling. What misery a life wanting in affection.”

  “Indeed,” he replied warmly.

  On Christmas morning as they all made their way into church for services, Elizabeth apprehended the true extent of the good and evil it was in her husband’s power to exercise. For the church was full to the limit and as they were bowed and curtsied to by all as they passed, Elizabeth recognized that this large multitude contained the very people upon whose lives and happiness her husband’s caprices and decency could play such a strong influence. She looked to him, his chin lifted high as he led his party to their place of privilege in the church. For all his sweet solicitude in the privacy of their home, he had lost not a bit of his ability to appear as proud and aloof as she had believed him to be in Hertfordshire. She considered that perhaps after all it was not so extraordinary when from such a young age so many looked to him for munificence and with genuflection, yet she maintained still it was lamentable and hoped that with her influence that bearing might be softened. She recalled when she and the Gardiners were in Lampton over the summer and her aunt had inquired as to his general character; whilst his goodness and liberality had been recognized, his pride never went unnoted. She thought it deeply unfortunate that so many for whom he did such good would consider him in that same adverse manner as she herself had once done. And it was just this reserve, this practiced aloofness on such occasions that offered such an unfavorable impression of a gentleman otherwise considered by all his servants and tenants of an excellence not to be gainsaid.

  In the afternoon the house was opened to tenants and villagers as was the long-standing custom. It was the only occasion Mr. Darcy opened the house to the neighbourhood since his father passed, indeed was the only custom maintained from before his mother’s death. Both he and Georgiana had always found the accomplishment of their duty on this day trying. The large crowds of people that meander through the public rooms of Pemberley House were a source of quiet dread to the siblings. Nevertheless, standing on a stair of the principal staircase that he might be slightly elevated from the crowd, Mr. Darcy made the appropriate remarks and blessings with eloquence and dignity. Elizabeth admired his words for their proper spirit of benevolence and generosity, but immediately he concluded and the multitude were freely about the opened rooms, Elizabeth was struck by the ridiculousness of his fixed position, Georgiana faithfully at his side, not moving to engage, but remaining reservedly and with unbending formality as one or another came to express gratitude for a generosity bestowed or simply to receive and offer good wishes. Had they been newly acquainted in Hertfordshire such behaviour would have offended and chagrined, but love will always find reason for expiation, and so she smiled indulgently at the two people so awkwardly standing guard; they had become the delights of her heart and she was generous in forbearance and justification.

  She gently pressed her husband’s arm and went herself into the crowd, for she felt no more propitious moment available to making the easy acquaintance of so many of the people aligned to and dependent upon the Pemberley Estate. Her openhearted nature had never been so fully evident as on this multitudinous day as she mingled with even the most humble of the villagers with an ease and respect for each person’s humanity that was enlightening for the always reserved siblings. Elizabeth was everywhere at once, attending to some small child, to an elderly villager, respectfully indulging the character of the clergyman’s wife at last. Darcy saw with admiration that she had a facility with them all, could pick up with ease and naturalness the tone of their conversation, the singularity of their concerns, and attended them all with a grace that he knew himself to thoroughly lack with those outside his immediate circle.

  He watched with fascination as Elizabeth spoke to a young woman who was introducing her brood of children; the woman’s husband, who stood quietly to the side, was a hard-working, honest man from whom Darcy had never had any troubles or complaints. Elizabeth knelt before the smallest of the children, a girl of six or seven.

  “And who is this pretty girl?”

  “I am Charlotte,” said the girl.

  “One of my dearest friends is named Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Shall we be friends, ma’am?” the girl inquired.

  “Charlotte!” her mother reprimanded at the insolence, but Elizabeth was not inclined to offense.

  “I hope we shall be, Charlotte,” Elizabeth replied. “I am new to Derbyshire. Perhaps you can help me find my way about?”

  The child smiled, her eyes beaming with gladness, and as Darcy saw the faces surrounding
his wife awash with approbation at her genuineness and amiability, he was proud and satisfied in a manner he had not anticipated. He had wished to marry Elizabeth for reasons entirely selfish and sentimental, but as he watched her move so easily and warmly through the Christmas throng he understood, as he had not before, that his heart had guided him well. She would bring to all of Pemberley the same joy she had brought to him individually, to say nothing of the genuine sympathy towards others he so lamentably lacked.

  As he observed her, his father came suddenly to mind and he remembered with striking clarity a morning in the heart of summer when he was a young man of seventeen. He had been riding out with his father when they stopped atop a ridge that overlooked a valley—verdant, fertile and rich with agriculture. He heard his father’s calm and unhurried voice. “I sometimes do ponder upon our good fortune, Son; question why God has given the Darcys such plenty. Even with all his wisdom, Cousin Philip has no adequate explanation for me. This I do comprehend, when our time comes God will not care what good intentions we have held secreted away in our hearts, he will judge us by our deeds, by how we have walked through this life. Walk wisely my son; walk with kindness and generosity and forbearance, particularly towards those who are beneath you.”

  The memory was gone as quickly as it had appeared and yet left him shaken. He had means for generosity and so exercised it, but he could not claim to walk amongst his fellow man with an excess of kindness and forbearance. He turned to his sister. “Come Georgiana, why do we stand about so severely? Let us walk about as well.”

  “Of course,” she replied, dutifully following him into the crowd.

  ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

  The Gardiners’ visit passed quickly and was very gratifying for all. There had been no moment more pleasing for Elizabeth then the rainy afternoon when her husband and uncle joined the ladies and the children after a long time spent together in the library. As they seated themselves and Elizabeth prepared the tea, the gentlemen resumed their earlier conversation.