Elizabeth grew a little embarrassed by her forthrightness, sensed that she and her sister experienced love very differently and understood that from hereon there would be topics she could not discuss with her beloved sister. She thought suddenly of Glencora Morris, the unsettling wariness she inspired, and suspected Jane would not comprehend such irrational feelings of disquiet.
“Before I expose myself more, perhaps another cup of tea. I will tell you all about the china that you may report it accurately to Mama. This set is from France, from the time of Louise XV. It belonged to Mr. Darcy’s grandmother.”
The sisters giggled happily, and felt as though they were again the Miss Bennets, sharing the secrets of their hearts, and only dreaming of the good fortune that had somehow befallen them both. As they lingered over their tea, the butler interrupted to announce Lady Richmond’s arrival.
“Whatever can she be doing here?” Elizabeth whispered to Jane as she rose to greet her.
Jane, having heard so much in her sister’s letters about Lady Richmond, was all eager curiosity. The elegant, bejewelled and imposing woman who entered into the drawing room did not disappoint her. She was exactly as her sister had described her, except perhaps that she was far more formidable and her glance far too penetrating.
After expressing her great surprise and honour at Lady Richmond’s call, Elizabeth presented Jane. Lady Richmond examined her without disguise. “You are the sister that married my nephew’s friend? You are very handsome,” she remarked and silently wondered why her nephew should have chosen the less beautiful of the sisters; but after just a brief conversation of courtesies it was clear enough that whilst the sister was certainly the prettier of the two—with lovely, regular features and a harmonious figure—she had not Mrs. Darcy’s vivacity or quickness of mind. Indeed Mrs. Bingley had a placid air about her that Lady Richmond found, in general, exasperating. Her dear Alice had not been like that, and it was her great hope that Mrs. Darcy would inspire less mildness in Georgiana, who was still so young and whose character could still be formed.
“I have not come simply to have tea,” Lady Richmond offered at last. “There is something of importance we must discuss,” she continued, looking at Jane as though to expel her from the room.
“If what you have come to speak of concerns only myself, please do speak freely in front of my sister. Jane and I have no secrets.”
“Probably you have more than you suspect, most people are not as lacking in opacity as they believe themselves. In any case, I have come to advise you, Mrs. Darcy, that you must have a dinner party.”
“A dinner party? Is that all? There must be more if your ladyship has taken the trouble to call upon me.”
“Naturally I do not refer to a common dinner party with a few of your husband’s bosom friends. You must make a declaration, open your doors, bring out the Darcy’s best silver and quiet the gossips and trouble makers.”
“The gossips and trouble makers? Has Lady Catherine been speaking ill of me?” Elizabeth asked in surprise.
“Lady Catherine is of no consequence in London society, my dear. If she receives consideration at all it is only as Lord Richmond’s sister. Privately, Mrs. Darcy, I believe we can agree that she is an officious and overbearing woman. She and I have not been friends. No, others of more consequence have it being said that you are snubbing invitations and all manner of other unpleasant things. Mrs. Greystock has apprised me of it all; your name is being disparaged in a manner that cannot be allowed to go unanswered.”
“You really must explain, Lady Richmond. I had been under a very different impression as regards my reception amongst Mr. Darcy’s friends and acquaintances. I have received nothing but civility and amiability. Calls have been assiduously made and received; dinners attended. Whom have I snubbed so unforgivably?”
“There will of course always be those who out of envy and malice will spread unpleasant rumours. Particularly in your case—your marriage still so new and you such an entirely unknown figure. But you must not think yourself immune from all judgement, that such perniciousness will have no consequences.”
“Pray, do be more explicit, your ladyship.”
“To begin, for a new wife not yet established in society, you have apparently declined an unusually great number of invitations.”
“Is that all? We receive invitations continuously and I decline those Mr. Darcy thinks best to decline. It is not as though I am acquainted with any of these people. The Harrels, for example, invited us to a ball which we declined.”
“Nobody of any consequence goes to the Harrels,” Lady Richmond declared dismissively.
“There you have it. I have been guided by my husband’s better knowledge in such matters.”
“You cannot take my nephew’s word on this. What can he know?”
“Better than I, I suspect? He has lived amongst these people; I have not. He has indicated those invitations he was like to accept or decline in the past and we have been consistent with the same. I hardly apprehend how there can now be offense when nothing has changed.”
“Mrs. Darcy, you surprise me with your ingenuousness! Everything has changed. He was unmarried, rich, well connected and handsome into the bargain. It is impossible for a man in such a situation to snub or offend.”
“Truly your ladyship, he may have been all those things but I venture that he was quite capable of offending,” Elizabeth responded with irony.
“You did not take offense from some little slight, I presume.”
“I do not take offense from little slights, your ladyship.”
Lady Richmond laughed gently, intrigued. Once more she found herself surprised by this young woman’s lively intelligence and gentle wit. Lady Edith had not admired her, found her insufficiently extraordinary for her cousin to have made such a mésalliance, but Lady Richmond wondered not that her nephew had thrown over all expectations to ensure himself her companionship. But she sensed Mrs. Darcy was too independent by half, and did not rightly comprehend the import of the situation.
“You came to me one morning and asked for my friendship. Mrs. Darcy, this visit is an act of friendship. I suggest you heed my advice. You must open your doors to a great many people in a very grand manner and forthwith. All will be rectified with a fine dinner, pleasant music and a pretence of selectiveness. People in general are very easily mollified. Afterwards you may be more truly selective. Indeed, so much the better if you are.”
Elizabeth thanked her sincerely for her counsel and promised to discuss it with her husband. Satisfied, Lady Richmond asked Elizabeth to escort her to the door, giving Jane a civil if curt “Good Day, Mrs. Bingley,” making clear she wanted a few words in private with her nephew’s wife.
After putting on her gloves and just as she was about to quit the house, she laid her hand familiarly on Elizabeth’s arm. “Mrs. Darcy, your sister is certainly very handsome, but you are very interesting. Interesting will get you further in society than beautiful; do not believe contrariwise. There you have Lady Edith, with her plain visage and entirely unremarkable appearance, yet she commands without exception every room she enters. You, my dear, are made for great things. Let me be your guide.”
With that astonishing declaration she departed. As Elizabeth made her way back to Jane she wondered if perhaps Glencora Morris had some hand in the ill-disposed gossip Lady Richmond had been too delicate to name as anything more than all manner of other unpleasant things. The suspicion provoked Elizabeth’s ambition for success more than anything else could have done.
❖ ❖ ❖ ❖
Whilst Elizabeth was so unexpectedly receiving his aunt, Mr. Darcy was spending the afternoon with his sister.
“She has been very accommodating, darling,” Elizabeth had declared to him on the prior evening as they sat together on a settee in the drawing room. “She leaves us so much to ourselves. She retires early every evening when we are at home. When I was a sixteen year-old girl I was not so eager to be abed so early, I can assure
you.”
“It has been delightful to have you all to myself of an evening, playing for me, singing for me,” he had responded whilst toying with a curl that dangled coquettishly over her neck. “She has always retired early. I had not considered that she was acting with such thoughtfulness. I suppose I think of her still as a child.”
“She is not a child and has more delicacy than many women twice her age. Though you do spoil her far too much, she deserves some special attention for her grace and consideration. Is there not somewhere you would go together before we were married and she did not live with you? You cannot always have been visiting her apartment, or at Lord Richmond’s whilst in Town.”
“She enjoys Sandberg’s.”
“Sandberg’s? You would take her to Sandberg’s?” she laughed.
“My sister is not without imperfections. You know her taste in novels. It is rather less refined than I would desire.”
“I can assure you that in a year or two’s time she will no longer have patience for the likes of Ann Radcliffe or Clara Reeve. She is a very mature young lady, but still only sixteen. Give her a little time to discover the ridiculousness of those overwrought tales.”
“Very well. Tomorrow she will have my undivided attention. Now, I should like to give you my undivided attention,” he replied, kissing her neck just where the curl was so temptingly dangling.
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth giggled happily. For the moment Georgiana was entirely forgotten.
Mr. Darcy did indeed take Georgiana to Sandberg’s on the following afternoon, much as he disliked the place. Whilst she browsed the latest publications her brother absently noticed that she seemed a little taller and wondered when she would stop growing. She was becoming a handsome and sensible young lady, unpretentious and graceful, and he was immensely proud of her. What pleased him most, however, was a certain lightness of bearing that he detected in her air for the first time. She seemed to carry herself with a little less hesitation, a little more confidence and he wondered if Elizabeth had been correct in asserting that he had kept her too much out of the world.
“Is my darling girl enjoying herself this afternoon?” he inquired when they departed the bookshop and began to walk together down the street to a new and elegant confectionary shop lately grown fashionable amongst his circle.
“Very much,” she replied, genuinely contented to simply be walking down the street to the confectionary shop on the arm of her tall and handsome brother. To simply be out in London with her brother was for Georgiana as thrilling and satisfying as a day could be. He had long stood at the very centre of her world: father, mother, brother, friend were all to be found in his solicitous and gentle care, his opinions were hers and his affections and attentions all she wished for.
It was early when they arrived to The Pineapple Confectioner, not yet the fashionable hour, and the locale was quiet and sparsely occupied—ideal for discreet conversations.
“Such a pity we left Elizabeth at home, Brother,” she declared as they sat at their table. “Would she not enjoy this place?”
“We will come with her another day. Today is a day for sisters. I with you; Elizabeth with Jane. You must appreciate that Elizabeth has no need of us today. She has her Jane all to herself. Elizabeth has missed her exceedingly; they are in one another’s complete confidence.”
“It must be very gratifying,” Georgiana replied wistfully.
At her quiet declaration Darcy was suddenly overcome with regret and sympathy, wondered at his own blindness. In her reserve and timidity he had never before recognized his sister’s loneliness, and it was as clear to him now as the innocent expression of her blue eyes. He said nothing to her of his sudden understanding, but reached over and pressed her hand warmly within his own.
“To what do I owe such tenderness?” she inquired.
“I suppose I was unexpectedly recalling when you were a girl, before you had gone away to school, and I would go to your schoolroom to inquire of your governess how you progressed.”
“Mrs. Flint was a very kindly lady.”
“Kindly and rather elderly, as I recall. Perhaps too much so.”
“Perhaps, but she was mild and lenient. Unlike you,” Georgiana declared, surprising herself.
“Pray, Georgiana, be explicit. Such a statement cannot be left unexplained.”
“You were very stern, not like our father at all. He would come to my schoolroom all smiles and solicitude, whereas you, Brother, why, you were rather firm and never failed to leave Mrs. Flint trembling in your wake.”
“Georgiana, are you teasing me?”
She looked into his countenance; saw such a warm, brotherly devotion. “I believe I am,” she replied, laughing mildly.
“Dear Georgiana!” he declared, lifting her hand and kissing it tenderly. “It would seem you are no longer the frightened little girl who came to me seeking comfort when our father died and did not comprehend that she was a greater comfort to me than I could ever hope to be for her. Perhaps I have endeavoured with too much dedication to provide recompense for the loss of our dear father; perhaps I ought to learn to simply be your brother and we can learn to share more confidences.”
“I should like that very much.”
They continued to converse in the same quiet, close tones, until at length they rose to depart. As Georgiana took her brother’s arm a gentleman approached them. He had been intermittently and discreetly observing them, unwilling to interrupt the quiet, attentive conversation between them.
“Mr. Darcy! How are you? How long has it been?” The gentleman had a booming, pleasing, striking voice that did not entirely match his more regular appearance: not too tall, plain faced, a little pale, but well dressed. He would not be called handsome; his appearance was forget-able.
“Lord Enfield. It has indeed been a long time,” Mr. Darcy replied in friendly greeting.
“I have read in the paper you were married. My congratulations. Do present me to your wife.”
“My wife?” Darcy stammered, surprised that his sister could be confused for his wife. “You are mistaken. My wife is otherwise engaged. May I present my sister, Miss Darcy.”
Lord Enfield bowed elegantly to Georgiana, gazed a moment too long on her pleasing countenance. “I recalled you had a sister but remembered she was but a child. Plainly I was very much mistaken,” he insisted as he favourably appraised her with a quick, sweeping glance. Georgiana blushed profusely at such unambiguous admiration.
“We have not seen each other since you finished university,” Darcy offered. “When I was still a second-year student.” They conversed briefly, Lord Enfield entirely careful about including Georgiana in the same. Darcy was soon disconcerted, for he had never experienced his sister so obviously admired as a woman; he had not considered that George Wickham’s attempted elopement with his sister had been anything more than a matter of greed and revenge.
“I will not importune you any longer, Mr. Darcy, you were departing. We must see each other again. I should very much enjoy a renewal of our past acquaintance,” he remarked turning his gaze again towards Georgiana and bowing his head discreetly. “And of course would welcome the opportunity to be presented to your wife.”
As Darcy held the door open for his sister and stepped aside that she might pass he saw that Lord Enfield’s attention was not diverted. He did not know which emotion was more pronounced: uneasiness that his sister was grown enough to be an object of such admiration, or pleasure that she should make such a favourable impression on such an illustrious gentleman. As he helped his sister into the carriage it is fair to say that pleasure was the prevailing sensation. Archibald Percy, Marquees of Enfield, heir to the Duke of Harwington, had very clearly been taken with his sister, and in spite of himself, his pride was more than a little gratified.
As Mr. Darcy and his sister entered into their carriage, a tall woman who drew the attention of more than one passer-by for her unusual beauty, arrived for an engagement at The Pineapple Confectione
r. She paused at the entrance and watched the Darcy carriage pull away having first noted that Mr. Darcy was not accompanied by his wife. She smiled, entered The Pineapple Confectioner and sat at a table where Lord Enfield was awaiting her arrival with little anticipation of pleasure. Their conversation was short and in no manner satisfactory; in less than a quarter of an hour Lord Enfield rose from the table and Miss Glencora Morris was left to contemplate how poorly her regeneration was proceeding. Her situation remained precarious and her future did not look bright. She wished most forcefully that she had played her hand more wisely when she was young and the luxury and fortune of Pemberley had been so close at hand. It offended her pride that such an insignificant woman had succeeded in becoming Mrs. Darcy; indeed, she had heard some less than admiring reports on the lady and had been active in spreading those reports further. She unhurriedly finished her tea and biscuits. She made a determination: if she could not obtain a restoration of full respectability, she would follow another path that ensured her material ease and that of her child. She had, after all, no great reputation to look to protect. Patience was all she required and she had that in abundance. Married men, she reflected, always grew tired with the comforts of home.
Chapter 18
Welcome Respite
Elizabeth felt every day more competent with her duties and obligations as Mrs. Darcy. The morning had been very productive: she had reviewed the household accounts, given the housekeeper instructions regarding a slacking servant, finalized the menus, read and responded to a few pieces of correspondence, and begun to plan for the dinner party Lady Richmond had so strongly recommended. Indeed, she had lately discovered in herself a great capacity for organization that she had not known she possessed.
She had of late also been more thoughtful in her reading and was beginning to have something of an understanding in those areas she felt her education had lacked. Darcy introduced her to great Continental writers she had known only by name, if at all. Together they discussed what she had read and she would plunge the depths of his highly informed mind in her quest to improve her own understanding and knowledge. They read together often now. Sometimes they would sit together on the chaise in the library, or lie together on the bed and he would recite poetry in his sonorous voice and she would lay her head against him and they would simply be together in peaceful companionship. She felt that with every discussion or recitation she knew her husband in a more profound and wonderful manner, understood better his tastes, his principals, and the workings of his mind.
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