I opened one of my trunks and drew the hip flask out. In the poor light of the inn I had taken it to be made out of pewter, but now I wasn't so sure. I rubbed it with my petticoat and the dull surface gave way to shiny metal. Silver, then. I took the object closer to the large window to have a better look. It was well used, and had clearly seen a lot of action, with plenty of bumps and scratches as testament of an adventurous life. Certainly, its owner was not idle. The mystery surrounding the identity of my saviour appeared unsolvable. If only I had a name...
Something on the surface of the flask grabbed my attention. I looked closely. There was an inscription of some kind. I rubbed some more with my petticoat. It was small, but legible: W.P. Right below the initial there was a date, etched in the same plain script: 10/04/1810.
There was a knock on the door; with a quick movement I hid the hip flask in my pocket. It was a maid informing me that Lady Catherine was back and was waiting for me downstairs. I nodded, expecting to have some time to myself so as to put the object back into the trunk, but the servant stood there, clearly waiting for me to follow her. There was no other option, I would have to take the hip flask with me. I grabbed my thick shawl, put it around my shoulders, hoping it would divert the attention from the bulk in my dress, and followed the maid downstairs.
The drawing room, although only the second largest in the house, was as grand as one might expect from a townhouse in one of the most fashionable areas of London. Lady Catherine was sitting on a damask sofa, dressed in a dark grey silk gown adorned with exquisite black lace. Her presence was as majestic as ever, although I noticed her back wasn't as straight as it once had been.
"Georgiana, don't act like a scared rabbit, it is not becoming in a lady of your rank. Come in and sit yourself here," she said, patting a petite chair to her left. "Colonel Fitzwilliam has yet to arrive."
My cousin must have left the house shortly after our arrival. I found that rather odd, but didn't ask any questions. Instead, I did as I had been told, and took the seat Lady Catherine had offered. It was very low, and the odd angle made my aunt appear even more imposing. My new perspective also afforded me a view of her lapdog, a black fluff ball barely distinguishable amongst the dark silk of my aunt's skirt. It was a young thing, almost a puppy, and when our eyes met, it raised its ears in my direction, as if in salutation.
"You have grown taller since the last time we met. That's unfortunate. Men tend to prefer petite ladies, with a few notable exceptions."
I wondered if she considered herself to be one of such, for Lady Catherine's height was certainly no trifle, especially for someone of her generation. Her grey gaze continued to observe me carefully, and she seemed otherwise pleased until she saw the laceration on my forehead.
"What is that, may I ask?"
"There was an incident just outside the inn last night."
"What do you mean, an incident?”
I hesitated. The Colonel had asked me not to provide Lady Catherine with an account of what had happened, so as to spare her any worry. She was weary enough of travelling and roadside inns as it was.
"I bumped my head," I said, unable to think of anything else.
"Clumsiness can be easily avoided with care, attention and grace, Georgiana. Let us pray that it does not leave a scar. Your complexion is your primary blessing in terms of physical beauty. Now, I hope you have been diligent in cultivating your education and accomplishments since our last encounter."
Lady Catherine proceeded to interrogate me about my musical practice, my painting, my dancing, my French, my Italian, and my embroidering. However, she never asked about my brother or his wife. I supposed she had elicited all the information she needed though the servants that had travelled with us.
"I never understood Darcy's obsession with keeping you at Pemberley all these years, out of sight from any society of consequence," she said, stroking her lapdog. "It is foolish to let your youth and bloom go to waste away from potential suitors, especially as you have so little to offer. Your mother's legendary beauty went all to your brother. But you have a pleasant countenance, good teeth and, with some guidance, could develop something akin to elegance."
My cheeks were burning, but Lady Catherine charged ahead.
"I have already written to the Lord Chamberlain's office and asked permission to present you at court. The reply must come at any time now, and the next drawing room is at the end of the coming week, so we only have a few days to get you ready. I have also engaged a team of seamstresses in the preparation of your court dress. They have been working on it for a few weeks now, and they will call early on Monday morning for the fitting. They will also make you some new gowns. You need suitable garments for the remainder of the season, and I have already warned them that they must be exquisite. That old thing you have on you, for example, simply will not do. You must appear as rich as possible."
Instinctively, I wrapped the shawl tighter around my shoulders. My aunt must have found my gesture irritating because when she spoke again, her voice was laden with impatience.
"Georgiana, surely you know by now that your appearance cannot possibly get you a husband, and that you have to rely on your settlement to draw male interest. We want all eligible bachelors you meet to understand your situation the minute you walk into a room, and heaven knows that with men one often has to make things as plain as possible."
The thought of being presented at court wasn't nearly as terrifying as the idea of entering a room full of strangers to whom I was but thirty-thousand pounds with legs.
My aunt took a sip of her cup of tea and her stern gaze set again on my face. I feared that she could read me like a book, and I grew agitated at the thought of the hip flask hidden in my pocket. What would she think if she saw it? I tried my hardest to keep my composure but my discomfort must have shown, because she narrowed her eyes and intensified her stare.
"Georgiana, is there anything I should know?"
Right at that moment, a carriage stopped just outside. I heard another carriage, and a horse neighed. One of the drivers shouted something in a cockney drawl that I couldn't understand. A minute later, Colonel Fitzwilliam was with us. Lady Catherine, always delighted to have male company, lit up in the presence of her nephew and seemed to forget I was even in the room. Her lips even drew the shadow of a smile as they discussed the health of his immediate family, the weather up north and the London season.
I stifled a yawn. The sky outside had darkened; it had been a long day, and my eyelids were closing. My aunt was never one for subtlety, however. She steadfastly ignored my silent pleas for an early dismissal, and it wasn't until a good hour later that she suggested we went upstairs to get ready for dinner. I was about to ask for permission to retire, eat a cold supper in my room and have an early night when my aunt commanded my cousin's attention.
"I was thinking, Fitzwilliam, that it is lovely to see Georgiana these days. She is the very definition of a well-bred young lady. Such command, such posture."
"I agree, Aunt. She is looking remarkably poised, in spite of the long day she has had."
"Duty above all. She takes after my father's side of the family, you know. Your grandfather, Sir Lewis de Bourgh, was an extraordinary man."
I wasn't sure what my aunt was getting at, so I chose to smile sweetly.
"The family anecdotes certainly suggest so," replied Cousin Fitzwilliam. "Although I dare say that Georgiana isn't that different from her father. I certainly remember the late Mr Darcy as a very duty-bound man."
"Such a pity his son didn't follow in his footsteps."
Lady Catherine's tone was icy cold, as always when speaking about my brother since his marriage to Elizabeth. For once, however, she didn't dwell on the family tensions.
"But really, Colonel, one would never guess Georgiana has been travelling for most of the day. You may be too young to remember, Fitzwilliam, but my sister, although an exquisite creature to look at, was notoriously fickle when it came to fulfilling her social obli
gations. Fatigue, she would often say. Even as a young girl she had the gravest and most extraordinary imaginary malaises. I always felt sorry for my brother-in-law. He was seen on his own, without the comfort of his wife's presence, far more often than any married man ought to be."
I looked at my cousin with pleading eyes, but the Colonel didn't seem to understand my predicament. Lady Catherine left the lapdog on a silk cushion on the floor and rose from her sofa.
"However, we will continue our conversation later. Dinner will be served shortly."
Crestfallen, I followed her out of the drawing room, but before I reached the stairs my aunt's cold hand closed around my wrist. She leaned in to me.
"Consider this part of your training," she whispered. "I will turn you into the most desirable female in the whole of London this season."
I shuddered.
On Monday morning, the team of seamstresses arrived as early as Lady Catherine had promised. They surrounded me like industrious bees, taking measurements of every part of my body and assenting to everything my aunt said. Lady Catherine supervised the operation like an admiral ordering his officers aboard his ship. She barely asked for my opinion, instructing the women on exactly what they were to provide, in which materials and the sort of finishes and ornaments that were required, but that suited me fine. While I was tugged and pinned and made to extend my arms, I lost myself in my thoughts, wondering about the etching on the hip flask. Was the stranger a Wesley, a Washington, a William? Perhaps a Waldo? Did the date commemorate an engagement, a wedding, a birth? A silver hip flask was expensive. That a man dressed in such simple apparel should own one was odd. He might have borrowed it, of course. The object was well used. He might have bought it cheaply off an owner wanting to get rid of it.
A thought suddenly struck me. Perhaps he had stolen it. Was my saviour a robber? Was that what he had tried to do on the day, jump onto the carriage to appropriate himself of our belongings? I closed my eyes and pictured his concerned gaze when he had found me. No, that had never been his intention, of that I was sure.
Afterwards, Lady Catherine took me to Ludgate Hill. The day was dry but had a tinge of grey all over. From the safety of my aunt's barouche I was able to observe life in the busy London streets, so far removed from Lambton and everything that I had known growing up.
The crowd moved like a giant multicoloured beast. The gentlemen wore elegant top hats and the ladies the most fashionable outfits, but for every decently attired man or woman going about their business, there were at least a handful of wretches lurking in street corners, begging for a coin. And, above all, there were children, many children, some wearing little more than rags that could not possibly protect them from the still cold temperatures of late winter.
My heart swelled at the sight of three young boys, one of them barely out of babyhood, begging in a street corner. The oldest one, who could not be more than six or seven, had a sailor hat on. They must be war orphans. With their bare feet, their chapped skin red and raw, they seemed much more miserable than the Pemberley poor I had become accustomed to visiting under Elizabeth's guidance. The old servants who lived in the cottages at the end of the state, the sick workers who were no longer able to feed their families, the widows who had to rely on charity to raise their young, they all represented a sort of genteel poverty, far removed from the desperate destitution of city beggars.
A carriage in front of us abruptly stopped, and the barouche came to a halt right next to where the three children were standing. The boy with the hat immediately took note of the shiny doors and the livery of Lady Catherine's carriage, and made a gesture to the middle child. In response, his brother took the toddler by the hand and dragged him in our direction. Encouraged by his sibling, the little one stretched his hand out to me, and I saw his clouded eyes. He was blind.
I had the urge to stop the carriage, to send for Jones and get her to bring me all the coins I kept in the purse by my bedside table. I wanted to give the unfortunate children warm clothes, plenty of food and the assurance that they would never have to beg again, but a single look from my aunt silenced me. Under her mute command, I tore my gaze away from the window, ashamed at my lack of gumption.
I was still shaking when the coachman dropped us off right outside the jewellers that my aunt had chosen as purveyors of the diamond-encrusted bandeau that was to complete my headdress. The piece was ostentatious and rather heavy, but my aunt was adamant that there was no alternative possible for my presentation, such were the strict rules surrounding court attire. She made me try it on. As well as uncomfortable and not particularly flattering, the bandeau seemed to me incongruous and detached from reality, a leftover from past times, and wearing it I felt like a little girl playing with her mother's belongings.
Before we left the shop, Lady Catherine insisted I bought some more jewellery.
“There is nothing like big stones to enhance your appearance, my dear."
I looked at all the items on display and chose a lovely gold cross with a single diamond at its centre and an exquisitely chain of tiny pearls. My aunt's eyes narrowed.
"Your future husband shall be delighted with your tastes, Georgiana," she said, her lips pursing. "What man wouldn't wish for a wife with thirty-thousand pounds who spends like a shopkeeper's mistress?"
I coloured deeply.
"But aunt, this is what I like."
"Nonsense. We will have a look at the brooch over there," Lady Catherine commanded the jeweller, pointing towards a brooch in the main display. With affected reverence, the man did as he was told and placed the piece on a velvet tray in front of us. The item in question was as big as the palm of my hand and had an intricate design depicting a butterfly and a flower. The main motives were studded with gold, opal and pearls, and two sapphires and two rubies the size of my thumbnails adorned the insect's wings. It would appear that the sole purpose of its maker had been to cram in as many precious stones in a single piece as possible.
"This is much more suitable," said my aunt, her voice brimming with approval.
"But I don't have any dresses in those colours. It doesn’t really go with my aqua gown, it's too pale. Or my pink one."
"Georgiana, you cannot possibly have forgotten. You are getting new ones! We will take it,” said Lady Catherine turning to the jeweller.
With a huge grin, the jeweller assured us that he would make the necessary arrangements to deliver both pieces to Grosvenor Square at the earliest convenience.
When we left the store, I felt faintly sick at the outcome of my shopping expedition. Purchasing such hideous items at such prices was bad enough. Not having had the decency to give the waifs in the street corner a couple of coins was infinitely worse.
Chapter 7
At the end of my third full day in London, Mr and Mrs Collins joined us for dinner at my aunt’s Grosvenor Square residence. I had met Mr Collins, the clergyman at the Hunsford parsonage near Rosings Park, on a previous occasion many years before. He was a pompous little man with no sense of humour or ridicule and an obsequiousness that rather irritated me. Our encounter took place before he married, so I was intrigued at the prospect of making Mrs Collins’ acquaintance, on account of her having been an intimate friend of Elizabeth's for many years. However, Mrs Collins turned out to be disappointingly discreet and she said little during our conversation, although enough to make it abundantly clear that she was much more sensible than her husband.
As soon as we sat down at the table in the small dining room, Mr Collins stood up and cleared his throat.
"Lady Catherine de Bourgh," he said in an affected voice, "It is such a great honour that you should welcome us, your humble servants, to your magnificent London residence. I was just saying to Mrs Collins the other night, I do wonder how Lady Catherine de Bourgh is doing, and whether she will have noticed our card. I am so relieved to see you looking so remarkably well, madam. If I may say so, that colour particularly suits your complexion."
"You may not say so, Mr
Collins, mainly because my complexion is far from what it used to be. But you may pay a similar compliment to my niece."
"Miss Darcy, the shade you are wearing brings out the perfect paleness of your skin, if I may say so as a married man."
"Never apologise for being a married man, Mr Collins, especially not for having such a dutiful and obliging wife," roared my aunt. "If only all married men were like you."
"My dear Lady Catherine, am I right in thinking you are still sourly disappointed in one of our kin? I very much hope that my cousin has been doing her best to regain your favour."
"Your cousin is her usual insolent self, and my nephew continues to be under her spell."
I knew that my aunt never had any affection for Elizabeth, but to hear her debase her name outside of the strict family circle, with no regard for my feelings or the Darcy name, was most unpleasant. Alarmed, I searched my cousin's eyes, but he seemed to be absent in everything but his physical presence.
My aunt hadn't finished.
"What is worse, her family is at Pemberley more than ever before. Georgiana has been quite turned out of her own home on account of their latest visit. It breaks my heart to think of that noble house being polluted by their vulgar manners and tedious talk, but even more so to see it become a haven to those who indulge in the most unacceptable of behaviours."
I wondered what she meant by that. Surely, the Bennets were harmless enough?
"Do not say, Lady Catherine! I shudder to think what they must have done to offend you so," replied Mr Collins with glee.
Miss Darcy's Beaux Page 5
