Elizabeth tactfully questioned Georgiana about the Derbyshire winter, contrasting it gaily to the less bitter, but equally dreary days experienced by Hertfordshire. Georgiana responded amiably enough, but her eyes had begun to stray toward the instrument in the corner. It was safe and peaceful to her there, Elizabeth assumed, a thing which could not be said of any other part of Longbourn’ s drawing room.
“Snow and freezing temperatures since October!” Kitty was lamenting from Georgiana’s left. “Lizzy, you could never take your long walks in such a clime. I think our aunt’s old home of Lambton is near there, is that not right, Lizzy? Would it be near enough to walk, Miss Darcy? Surely it would be a jolly village for a regiment to be stationed.”
“There have been no regiments quartered there in my memory, Miss Catherine,” was Georgiana’s prim, yet bashful response. “As for walking, Pemberley is far too large to travel its borders on foot.”
“I was told once,” Elizabeth’s face softened in sentimental humour, “that a young lady must take care to improve her horsemanship for that very reason. It is a useful skill for a mistress.”
Georgiana’s eyes rose sharply. “That is precisely what Fitzwilliam used to tell me when I was learning to ride,” she answered in a low voice. “I never knew how true his words would prove!”
“He wished to secure your future,” Elizabeth answered. “I believe he did all he could to protect and prepare you.”
Georgiana’s knuckles whitened again on her cup. “I only wish it had not been necessary!” she whispered.
If Kitty had looked for a merry companion of her own age in the fashionable Miss Darcy, she was quickly disappointed. It was clear even to her that their young guest was on the verge of tears as she spoke of her departed brother with such mysterious candour, and equally clear that those words were meant for Elizabeth and not herself. Her expression crumpling in petulant dismay, Kitty began attending Jane and Mary’s conversation about the latter’s growing list of accomplishments. Soon after, she leapt at the opportunity to fetch Mary’s needlework basket to display her newest embroidery knot.
Elizabeth breathed in sweet relief when Kitty left them. Georgiana’s eyes had again retreated to the quiet corner where the pianoforte stood. “Do you still find much opportunity to play?” Elizabeth asked gently.
Caught in her defensive distraction, Georgiana turned quickly back. “Not so much as I should wish. I have been occupied in other things.”
“I must imagine so,” Elizabeth agreed. “But is not music a perfect method to reflect and to lift the spirits?”
“It would be,” Georgiana sighed, “but I cannot touch my instruments without remembering how proud Fitzwilliam was to give them to me. He gave me the piano at Pemberley for my last birthday, did I ever tell you that?”
“You did. It is a beautiful instrument, and I know he intended for you to grace it with your talents.”
Georgiana’s face fell. “I was trying to believe the same, do you know. I had begun to play once more—not only my piano, but my new harp. Oh, that one hurt the most! Just before Christmas it was delivered, while Richard was away on business. I had not the heart to tell him about it when he returned. Fitzwilliam had commissioned it months ago, to replace my mother’s old harp that was in disrepair. He must have meant it as a surprise, and I cried so when I knew I could never thank him for it! Yet, I was so eager to learn to play it, but my cousin Miss de Bourgh found it irreverent. I thought perhaps I was wrong to be finding joy in the gifts he had given me, so I ceased.”
“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth took her hand, “as my acquaintance with Mr Darcy was short, I cannot declare that I knew him well, but I can assure you that he would not have countenanced others imposing feelings of guilt or regret upon you. He wished to see you happy, more than anything else, and I have seen some proof of the measures to which he would have gone to ensure that.”
Georgiana’s expression broke wistfully. “He was so good to me! Richard knows all of this, and there is much I cannot tell anyone else, but…” her brow creased and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand with sudden fervour. “Miss Elizabeth, you would not mind if I shared some of my more cherished memories with you? I have no one else who would care to listen, to whom they are not already known.”
Elizabeth threaded the fingers of her other hand over Georgiana’s. “I would be honoured, Miss Darcy.”
16
It was all better than Richard could have hoped. Mr Bennet, though a deliberately contrary, dry-witted sort, was not at all a bad fellow. He may have been an indolent parent, as Bingley had cautioned before making the introduction, but he was not the man to be swayed to another’s interest at the expense of his own. He would pose no ulterior threat to Georgiana, and by one or two comments gleaned from his speech, he appeared genuinely interested in promoting adventures afield for his eldest unmarried daughter. It was precisely as Bingley had apprised him earlier—Mr Bennet would not deny the request he had hoped to make.
Mr Gardiner proved the backbone to the whole scheme. Richard had laughed and sported gaily with the man, but in truth he had been heavily evaluating every nuance of inflection and manner. What he found pleased him greatly. This tradesman was far from the tufthunter he might have feared—in fact, it was probably no leap to surmise that the two Bennet sisters with whom he had spoken the most had learnt their grace and dignity more from their aunt and uncle than their parents.
Gardiner had been watching him with a hawk-like gaze as well, and Richard grunted at last in satisfaction. This tradesman would be a fierce protector, and Bingley’s glowing testimony only served to reinforce his own conclusion. He could trust this man with his very life.
Drawing a desperate gasp of courage, Richard angled for his opportunity, and made his proposition. His words were initially met with silence, raised brows, and pursed lips. Bingley, his eyes roving between Richard and the other two men, voiced his endorsement of the plan, and a careful discussion ensued.
“Colonel,” Mr Bennet sighed at last, “would not Netherfield or London suffice for the present?”
“My cousin’s heart is in Derbyshire, sir, and thence I hoped to return her. She must take up the reins of the estate someday, and it would be my wish for her to do so with an able counselor and faithful friend at her side. If, however, London is the permission you will grant, then I shall ask for no more at present.” Richard waited, his gaze shifting between the two guardians with panting faith growing in his chest.
The men shared another look, but it was Edward Gardiner who spoke—mercifully so, for it was he upon whom Richard had hung his hopes. “Bingley, would you be so good as to ask Elizabeth to come to us?”
“Pray do not trouble yourself. I will go, with your permission,” Richard promptly offered. It was out of no generosity of spirit that he did so—this was to be the final omen regarding the success of his endeavour. If Elizabeth Bennet had brought a smile to Georgiana’s face and offered her some emotional shelter even in that noisy drawing room, he would take it as a sign that all would be well.
He found the pair situated still in the centre of the parlour, but cloistered in a world of their own making, happily disregarding the whole room while three other conversations breezed all about them. For the first time in months, Georgiana’s pink countenance reflected ease as Miss Elizabeth laughed expressively at some innocent mot by the younger girl.
By Jove, he assured himself at last. This will work!
His presence could not go unremarked, for Mrs Bennet and that other daughter—Catherine, was it? —both hastened to welcome him back to the room.
“Colonel, I do hope you have not come just now to bid your adieux!” Mrs Bennet mourned. “I was just about to ask my Jane if your whole party might stay to dine this evening. You will not mind the informality, surely? We are quite in the habit of frequent family dinners upon short notice.”
He returned a broad smile, influenced in no small measure by the happy signs appea
ring before him. “I am at my host’s pleasure, Ma’am. If Mr and Mrs Bingley are inclined to remain, I shall certainly be the last to say nay.”
“Then it is settled!” Mrs Bennet cried, forgetting in her enthusiasm to obtain Jane’s or Mr Bingley’s assent. The word of the colonel in his flashing regimentals, whose eyes frequently rested upon her daughter, was more than sufficient. “Mary, dear, ring for Hill. I must have her bring out that lovely ham. Colonel, I trust you do like ham?”
He bowed gallantly. “After living on soldier’s rations, I have learnt to like nearly everything, Madam. I am confident that anything I encounter at your table shall soon become my favourite dish.”
Mrs Bennet gave a pleased little giggle, for despite his chivalrous speech, Richard’s gaze had roved to the pair on the sofa during much of the exchange. Her suggestive smile only confirmed his suspicions that she saw him as a fair prospect for one of her daughters, and once more his cravat seemed altogether too tight. Well, what matter if the old dame thought he intended to propose marriage? For one of Miss Elizabeth’s fire and wit he might almost have been persuaded to make an exception to his sworn bachelorhood, but at present, what he hoped to ask of the young lady was of far greater import. He glanced back to Mrs Bennet. “Won’t you excuse me, Madam?”
Elizabeth Bennet had trained one curious eye on him since he had first appeared in the room, but had maintained her conversation with Georgiana as cheerfully as ever. As he approached now, however, she turned with a welcoming smile. “Colonel, we were just debating the merits of long feathers in a lady’s hair. One of us finds them the pinnacle of fashionable elegance, the other thinks them a treacherous hazard to the noses of prospective dance partners. I do hope you have come to help us settle the matter, for we are at complete odds!”
He paused, startled into a laugh—just, apparently, as Georgiana had also been. Was Georgie actually snickering behind her hand? His confidence swelled as he grinned and dipped his head. “And which viewpoint is the safest for me to espouse, Miss Bennet?”
“Oh, no, we cannot make it that simple, can we Miss Darcy?” she laughed. “You must choose, sir, only I caution you to remember with which lady you must share a carriage back to London.”
“If that be the case, I find myself in dangerous waters, Miss Bennet.” Yes, Georgiana was laughing! His fists nearly clenched in triumph as his unconscious grin widened.
Georgiana smiled back to him now. “Miss Elizabeth is teasing you, Richard, we were speaking of other matters entirely.”
“Then I am safe! I cannot begin to express my relief, for the journey is cold enough at this time of year without being at a variance with one’s traveling companion. I should like to enquire further into your delightful conversation, however, Miss Bennet’s presence has been requested in the library.”
For the briefest second, Georgiana’s eyes widened nervously. He felt a pang of regret at so soon robbing Georgiana of her companion, even temporarily as he hoped. To his relief, Jane Bingley and Mrs Gardiner had drawn her into their circle almost before Miss Elizabeth had fully quitted the room with him.
He paused in the hall with her, wondering what ideas were sparking behind those brilliant eyes at his singular request. “Miss Bennet,” he hesitated, wishing he could corner her there and then to extract the looked-for promise of aid, but her father deserved to have his say and her uncle’s assurances were yet required. Still… “I wish to take a moment to thank you,” he finally decided. “Whatever else may happen, you brought a smile to Georgiana’s face today. It has been too long since I have seen it, and I am grateful, Miss Bennet.”
She gazed steadily, unflinchingly back. “I owed it to her, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
He was still wondering what she could have meant by her words when she turned and led him to the library.
~
Elizabeth stared at her father. Had he really just endorsed this scheme? He was tipping his forehead down, eyes raised over his spectacles at her, just as he was wont to do on the rare occasions when he saw fit to enforce his will. There could be no doubts—he meant for her to accept Colonel Fitzwilliam’s offer.
Another glance swept the room. Her uncle’s expression was quietly contemplative as he hid behind crossed arms, Bingley’s perfectly satisfied. Apparently, none held any qualms at the colonel’s proposition, and it only remained for her to accept. Her heart soaring, she longed to do so, but….
“What of Miss Darcy, sir? Have you spoken to her of these matters?”
Colonel Fitzwilliam shifted in his chair. “No, Miss Bennet. I wished to obtain your father’s blessing and your consent. Your uncle’s cooperation is instrumental as well, as you will require an escort. I did not wish to raise hopes in my cousin which I could not satisfy.”
“I applaud your discretion, sir, but I wonder if she might not object to another constant chaperon in general, and myself in particular.”
“Object to you!” he cried, forgetting that the lady’s father watched his every word with keen interest. “Miss Bennet, your name was the first to give her pleasure in many months. No, I think she will not object. Besides, your role is not to be that of a chaperon, but a guest and a friend—an equal, Miss Bennet. I would not even cast the word ‘companion’ upon you, for I would not blight your prospects so. It is my hope that the arrangement will to be to your mutual advantage.”
Elizabeth’s stomach coiled. There was much the colonel did not—could not—know! “Sir, I thank you for your consideration, but I am not well-suited for such a task. I know nothing of the sort of society to which Miss Darcy belongs. My company can do her no favours, surely, I—”
“Miss Bennet,” he held up a hand to stay her objections. “I care nothing for Society at the moment. I am not Darcy, nor am I my aunt, nor even my father. I am simply a military man who finds himself the reluctant guardian of a grief-stricken and traumatised girl whose responsibilities outweigh her experience. Her happiness and growth in character are my primary concerns, and I can think of none better suited to the task than yourself. Even were I not committed to my other business, I would have made this same request the moment her eyes lit up at the mere mention of your name. You have the gifts of courage and good humour, Miss Bennet, not to mention a most useful intelligence and, according to your father, some experience sharing a Mistress’s duties about an estate. My cousin needs you. Please, may I count on your assistance?”
Elizabeth glanced once more at the men assembled round the room. Mr Bingley, who had so generously tried to promote her advantages, her uncle, who had faithfully supported and cherished her all her life, and her father…. His face was greyer than she had ever seen, the lines of his cheeks more haggard, but there was an iron in his eye. She knew that look, for it reflected often in her own mirror, but seldom did she see it in her parent.
Elizabeth sighed, then looked again to the colonel. “Then I accept, sir. I will go to Pemberley with Miss Darcy and my uncle.”
She could watch the tension leave his shoulders, but he merely bowed with good grace. “I thank you, Miss Bennet. I shall speak with your father and uncle about the arrangements.”
“Before you do so,” she lifted her chin and gazed directly into his eye, “I would ask for a moment alone, sir.”
He flicked a glance toward her assembled guardians, but Elizabeth focused her gaze steadily on him. She would give none an opportunity to object to her request, and the colonel as much as anyone else sensed her determination. “Of course, Miss Bennet,” he acquiesced.
As the others filed out—each with a sympathetic glance toward the colonel—Elizabeth moved to a distance across the room from him, placing herself behind a chair. Crossing her arms over the back, she waited for the door to close. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” she moistened her lips, looking thoughtfully to the floor. “Before bringing me into Miss Darcy’s confidences, I must tell you that there is a matter of some delicacy, of which you ought to be informed. I think it likely that you will wish
to rescind the offer.”
“I presume you refer to your younger sister? Mr Bingley told me that she had been abandoned by her husband and is even now with child and living here at Longbourn. Are you concerned that some shadow of disgrace taints you? I assure you, Miss Bennet, I care little for that.”
“Did Mr Bingley happen to tell you the name of her ‘husband,’ sir?”
His brow furrowed. “Why, no, I do not think he… he must not have thought it a matter of import. I only heard it was a chap who had been stationed with the militia in Brighton.”
“Perhaps Mr Bingley did not wish to dissuade you from your plan. It is Mr Wickham, sir.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam had always seemed a genial, amiable fellow, but in that moment Elizabeth bore witness to the savage fire he must have carried onto the battlefield. His features darkened, his eyes flamed, and his fingers flexed as though reaching for an absent pistol. Fitzwilliam Darcy at his most brooding could not have compared in this moment to the intimidating ire flashing in the colonel’s bearing. “Wickham!” he spat.
Elizabeth gripped the back of her chair. “I am afraid so, sir. Can you still wish for the association with my family? I would not wish to occasion Miss Darcy any further grief than she has already experienced.”
The colonel’s expression froze. “How much do you know, Miss Bennet? What has that blackguard told you? I swear, if he has impugned my cousin’s honour—”
“It was Mr Darcy himself who related the matter to me,” Elizabeth interrupted hoarsely.
“Darcy!” The colonel’s face drained and he gaped a moment. “Darcy, my cousin, Fitzwilliam Darcy the Silent One… he told you about Wickham? Everything?”
These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 23
