by Meg Osborne
The butler nodded, and welcomed them into a large hallway, bidding them wait while he informed both Miss Darcy and her brother that their guests had arrived, but he had not been gone above a moment or two before Georgiana could be heard hurrying down the corridor towards them.
“You came!” she cried, beaming at them. “I am glad. Come in and be comfortable, won’t you, for despite my brother’s opinions we shall not stand on ceremony. Mary! You’ll want the piano, I don’t doubt. Allow me to point you to it and then I shall take the rest of your sisters into the parlour.” She gestured as she walked, so that, after a moment’s hesitation, Mary disappeared down a hallway and behind a door as if being directed to a particular promised treasure.
“And what would you like to do, ladies?” Georgiana asked. “There is the library or the glass houses, or you are perfectly free to roam as you wish and explore.”
This suggestion suited Kitty and Lydia admirably and they took off at a run quicker than their mother could manage to call after them to please do not get into any trouble and do not be gone too long, my dears! Lizzy was rather more reluctant to let her two youngest sisters have free reign in a house that was not theirs, and far grander than any they had been in to date, but they had rounded a corner before she could summon up a convenient reason to keep them close by so she contented herself with a prayer that no mischief would befall them, and walked with her mother and remaining sister into the parlour, where Georgiana had organised a cosy fire and tea tray ready for her guests arrival.
“Now, if you will allow me to play hostess,” she said, bidding them each to sit down and barely able to keep a smile from her face. “I have so rarely had the opportunity! Tell me, how did you find the walk over here? Not too difficult, I hope, for then it may be one you will make often...!”
DARCY HAD HEARD THE door open and admit Georgiana’s guests, and whilst he knew the proper thing would be to join them in the hall, the notion of spending his afternoon surrounded by women made him shrink further into his chair. Instead, he checked that his study door was closed to interruption, and made a show of continuing with his work, in hopes that he would not be too sorely missed. He doubted it, for Georgina had been up with the lark, fussing about flower arrangements and plans for the afternoon’s entertainments. When he had trifled to mention, over breakfast, that he had not realised the Prince Regent himself was planning on joining the Bennet family on their visit to Pemberley he had been rewarded with a sharp look and an even sharper exhalation, and he had not dared to speak again. Privately, it had pleased him to see Georgiana so eager to please her friends. She was a homely little creature and he recognised, in just the past few days, how much being so often alone, or with merely her brother or his friends for company had done her a disservice. The newly arrived Bennets already provided Georgiana with enough interest that she seemed an altogether different person. He actually heard her bossing about the staff in a way that had made him stuff his handkerchief into his mouth in order to keep from laughing out loud and betraying himself. Where had meek little Georgiana gone to? And yet, she was still there, exerting herself on the behalf of friends, or people she dearly hoped would become friends. It was touching to see, and he would not, for all the world, destroy her happiness by getting in the way.
He glanced at the clock before him on his desk. He had made tentative arrangements to speak to his estate manager that day and consult with him on the nature of the works needing to be undertaken to repair the damages wrought by the storm. What had already been done was rapid and makeshift, and needed re-doing, and, with the guarantee of a year’s rent, he felt at liberty to begin it with all haste, for fear that to tarry would lead to it worsening.
Straightening his papers and returning everything to its proper home, he stood, striding over to the door and hesitating, momentarily. He strained to listen, unwilling to step out into the corridor until he could be assured of not being seen, and thus dragged in to join the feminine party. All was quiet, so he risked sliding the door open a crack. A furtive glance down the corridor, first this way, then that, reassured him that the coast was clear, so he walked quickly towards the front door, summoning his butler with a word as he did so.
“I am going to meet Jones, although I do not foresee being gone above an hour. Please send my apologies to Georgiana, should she miss me in that time, and assure her that I will return before our guests leave.” He grimaced. “I do not doubt she wishes me to take tea with them and I do not care to disappoint her.” Laughter danced in his butler’s eyes, for the man had worked for Darcy his whole life and knew his young master well.
Reaching for his coat, Darcy hurried outside before anything conspired to stop him, but he did not fully relax until he had put some distance between himself and the house. Even if the ladies chanced to look up from their gossiping enough to notice his presence in the gardens, he would be too far away for them to consider calling out to him and interrupting his work. He let out a breath he had not realised he was holding and slowed his pace.
He liked his estate, and even when the day consisted of chores, he relished the opportunity to be out of doors again, enjoying the fresh air and freedom to inspect the gardens as he passed, making a mental note to speak to a gardener about giving some attention to the borders nearest the house. With everything that had been disrupted due to the weather he had somewhat overlooked the shrubberies, and they were in a sorry state indeed. Georgiana would be pleased to see them resemble the beauty they used to, and now that they were likely to have guests at Pemberley on occasion it was a small concern that would make a big difference to how the house was presented.
“Good afternoon!” he called, seeing Jones up ahead, bent over his rake.
“Good afternoon, sir!”
The two men fell to discussing their business straight away, for Jones had work enough that he could not spare too much time for conversation and Darcy was eager to learn of the progress already being made on repairs and remedial work, as well as to reassure Jones that they could go ahead with the rest of the plans to rebuild what had been damaged. Their meeting was over almost before it began, and Darcy found himself alone once more. Alone, and unoccupied. He glanced back towards the house, sure that he ought to go straight back and relieve his sister from the trials of hosting, although she seemed to be managing admirably, and he had no great desire to be in the way. Instead, he decided to make the most of a rare sunny afternoon, and walk the long way back to the house. He ought to inspect his grounds, after all! This notion cheered him, and he made steady progress, pausing here to regard a tree he remembered climbing as a boy, there to examine a particular plant he could no longer name. Botany had never been a keen pursuit of his, but he hated to acknowledge his own frailties in any area, even the relatively useless one of recalling the Latin name of a particular plant. He frowned, scouring his mind and certain that the answer was lodged in there somewhere, if only he could locate it.
“Is something the matter, Mr Darcy?”
He glanced up, expecting first to see Jones retracing his steps but realising almost as quickly that the voice had not belonged to his gruff groundsman, but a young lady. He turned, recognising the slight figure of Elizabeth Bennet walking towards him.
“Forgive me,” she said, as she drew close. “I did not mean to disturb you.” She glanced towards the house. “I am just returning to join your sister and mine in taking some tea.”
“Then allow me to accompany you.” The words were out before Darcy could stop them, yet he did not regret uttering them. “Have you been walking alone?” This troubled him, although he could not put his finger on why.
“Only briefly.” Elizabeth smiled. “I was eager for some activity, and as all the other ladies were occupied with music or exploring or conversation, I took it upon myself to walk a circuit of the gardens nearest the house.” Her smile faltered. “I hope that is not a problem?”
“No.” Darcy shook his head. “I am only sorry my sister left you to walk alone
.”
“I prefer it!” Elizabeth remarked, then paused. “That is - it does not upset me to find a moment alone to enjoy and appreciate nature.” As if to illustrate her point she lifted her head and glanced around them. “You have some beautiful trees around here.”
“Those that remain.” Darcy grimaced, and found himself speaking quite freely of the damage that had been wrought by the storm.
“We had the same at Longbourn!” Elizabeth replied, when he detailed the dates of this particular onslaught. “I thought it appropriate that when we were forced from our home even the natural world seemed upset.” She laughed. “No doubt you think that silly.”
Darcy said nothing at all, fearing that whatever words he did find would not be appropriate, and rather appreciating the rapport he seemed to have found with this particular Bennet sister. He could not recall the last time he walked or talked so freely with another person let alone a young lady of such evident intelligence and wit.
Chapter Thirteen
Charles Bingley was miserable. It was evident, not so much from what he said, but from all that he did not say. Ordinarily, her brother was scarcely quiet for a moment, such that his incessant conversation grated on his sister’s nerves until she broke and snapped at him, or flounced from the room, or found some excuse to be away from him for an hour. Lately, though, Caroline found that she was the one searching restlessly for topics of conversation that might interest her brother enough to encourage him to speak once more. He was quiet, too quiet, and she could help but feel concerned.
“You are not unwell, I hope?” she asked when several days had passed with no change in her brother’s mood.
“Ill? Not I.”
And with those three words, the matter was brought swiftly to a close. Caroline sighed. She had never known her good-tempered brother to be so melancholy for so long and racked her brains to think of some solution.
“There is to be a concert this week at the Royal Conservatory. What say you to our attending?”
“Hmm.”
Caroline drew a breath.
“We might see some of our friends. I am sure Miss Lennox will be in attendance.” Caroline dangled the name of her friend, a very pretty, very eligible young lady, before her brother’s ears as a bribe, but he scarcely seemed to hear her, or if he did, to react with anything approaching the enthusiasm she had hoped for.
“Charles!” Eventually, her patience snapped and she barked at her brother, a little relieved to see how he flinched in his seat at her sharp tone. He turned towards her.
“Is something the matter?”
Caroline set her jaw.
“How can you mope so and ignore every word I say, when I strive only to interest you, and then turn to me with such innocence to enquire “is something the matter?” She had had enough of pandering to her brother’s ill-temper and sought somehow to shock him into some semblance of himself, even if it meant being thought cruel and selfish. Caroline Bingley cared little for most people, holding a very few close to her heart. Her brother was one such person and seeing him so unlike himself, so beset with misery, was worse than bearing the pain of disappointment herself. She drew in a breath and smiled, tautly, at him. “I cannot help but notice you are not at all yourself, Charles, dear. What is the matter?”
She crossed the room to his seat in the window, and leaned over him, smoothing his hair in the way their mother used to whenever her boy was upset, which was rare. The gesture was so out of the ordinary for Caroline that Charles dodged out of her grasp, frowning up at her in confusion. Caroline snatched her hands back, as if burned, and folded them at her waist.
“Tell me,” she urged. “Perhaps I might be able to be of some assistance?”
This question, at last, seemed to be the one to provoke a response and Charles’ eyes lit up.
“Oh, Caro! I think perhaps you might.” He stood, then, surrendering his seat and encouraging her to take it. He began to pace, as if he could not quite bring himself to speak freely without somehow giving vent to his nervous energy.
“What can I do?” Caroline asked, watching him carefully. “Tell me.”
“You must write to Miss Bennet.”
“And say what, pray?” Caroline laughed, but the sound was weak, even to her own ears.
“Anything! Everything.” Charles smiled. “Enquire as to the health of her mother. Her sisters. Ask how they find life in Pemberley. Ask if -” his voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “Enquire as to their plans for the future. Do they intend to stay in Derbyshire, for instance, or might they - might she -”
He fumbled his words, then, his confidence failing him at last, reached a hand up to his hair, rumpling what Caroline had attempted to smooth.
Why not write to her yourself, if your interest is so great? She did not say this aloud, fearing that her brother, in his current mood, would take it for a viable suggestion and set to writing at once. Such a letter would be as good as a proposal of marriage, and whilst his feelings were apparently genuine, Caroline could only imagine Miss Bennet’s to be dependent on Charles’ financial worth and social capital, and not his own self. Caroline loved her brother jealously. He deserved more than that from his marriage.
“Very well, I will write,” she conceded, already knowing that she would not, or at least not hurry to. “But not right at this moment. Come, Charles, we have languished indoors half the day. Let us take a walk, and enjoy what remains of the sunshine.”
Charles looked crestfallen that she did not immediately reach for paper and pen but equally seemed to feel that he could not at present contradict his sister on any point, for fear she dispose of her promise as a punishment.
“Very well,” he said, at length. He nodded, slowly, as if the suggestion finally struck him as a good one. Something that might have been a smile played about his lips, and Caroline was cheered to see the ghost of her brother returning. “Yes,” he said. “Forgive me, sister, I have been as bad-tempered as a bear this last week. Let us go for a walk, and then, when we return, we might compose the letter together, for I know you must be at least as eager as I am to hear how our new friends are settled at Pemberley.”
The mention of Pemberley softened Caroline still further to the task, although Charles could not have known that. In writing to inquire of Miss Jane Bennet, Caroline might learn of Miss Eliza, too, and satisfy herself that Mr Darcy was at least safe from her present scheming.
Encouraged, she hastened into action, taking her brother’s arm in an unusual show of affection and chatting eagerly to him, barely noticing that his own responses were a fraction of what they might have been previously. Her mind raced ahead, and whilst she spoke of the people and places they passed on their walk, her thoughts were already in Pemberley.
ONCE THEIR FIRST VISIT was undertaken, and undertaken so successfully, the Bennets became a regular fixture at Pemberley, with one or two of them running over there almost daily. For Georgiana, the change was a welcome one, and even Darcy could not claim to dislike the energy the young ladies brought to the usually quiet house.
“What have you planned for today, Georgiana?” he asked his sister at breakfast one morning, a week or two after that first visit.
“A decision!” Georgiana sighed. “Kitty and Lydia wish to walk to town, although I have told them it is quite some distance. They will not be dissuaded, however, and beg me to accompany them. But Mary has also intimated she would like some time at the piano, and I had looked out some duets for us to play together. I think it would mean a great deal to her if I stay.”
“Ah,” Darcy smiled. “A decision, indeed.” He paused. “And what of the elder Miss Bennets?”
Georgiana’s glance, when she lifted it, was entirely innocent Too innocent, and Darcy suddenly found great interest in his plate, so that he need not stand up to the scrutiny of his sister’s silent enquiry.
“That is something you would have to determine for yourself, brother. They are not planning to come to Pemberley today, I
believe, but remain at the cottage with Mrs Bennet. She has been a little unwell, and so wishes for quiet, and both Jane and Lizzy are reluctant to leave her.”
“I see,” Darcy was noncommittal, but it was not without effort. He sensed his sister was waiting for him to say more, but he continued to study the meal before him in still more detail and at last, when the silence between them had become almost unbearable, Georgiana was the first to break it.
“Do you have plans for the day?”
She would goad him into speaking, then, but at least had the grace to allow him a change of topic.
“I shall be out of doors much of the day,” he said, pushing his plate away with a sigh. “There is still a good deal of work to oversee.”
“And heaven forbid you entrust such a task to anyone else.” Georgiana’s tone was teasing, although it took her brother a moment to realise it.
“My manager cannot be everywhere at once,” he protested. “And this way we might accomplish double the work in the time, and divide the estate between us...” he paused. “And heaven forbid I entrust the task entirely to anyone else.” His lips quirked. “Well, I wish you a good day, Georgiana. If Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia are determined to go to town and encourage both you and Mary to go with them you might save your feet and take the carriage.”
This unprompted act of benevolence was received with a smile, and Georgiana fairly hurried from the room to prepare for the arrival of her guests. Darcy was left to finish his coffee in solitude, which state he did not entirely regret.
Inasmuch as the visits of the younger Bennet sisters to Pemberley had become habitual, he had formed a new habit of his own. He had often been called to spend time out of doors, overseeing the repairs and maintenance work undertaken throughout the estate. He enjoyed the work, enjoyed the fresh air and activity. But there was another reason for his enjoyment. Since that first day in the gardens, he had often found his path crossing with that of Elizabeth Bennet. It was never planned, and neither one would admit to anything other than polite surprise and a general satisfaction with the suggestion of walking a step together. Yet he fancied it could not always be a coincidence that they should stumble across one another. This morning, for instance, as he reviewed the areas of the estate he had planned on visiting, he noticed a particular focus ought to really be given to the far reaches of the estate, those fields that bordered the small patch of land which housed the cottage leased to the Bennets. Indeed, it would be remiss of him, once there, not to call at the house and see if Mrs Bennet, in her infirmity, had need of a doctor. He might ensure the family’s firewood was well-stocked, their kitchen-garden still thriving under the attention of the girls and their servants. And if he happened to see Miss Elizabeth, why, it would only be polite to offer to accompany her on her daily walk...
