"Mr. Mumford's attentions were no more than a doctor's ought to be for his patient and my gratitude is for those attentions not for anything else you might imply," Jane replied severely. Severely. Jane. Goodness, what had happened, Lizzy wondered?
"There is nothing to be embarrassed about. He is very handsome. And it is obvious he is already in love with you. Don't you think Mr. Mumford loves Jane, Mary?"
But Kitty would find no ally in Mary. "I think you should read more. Your mind is clearly in need of some employment beyond formulating gossip about your own sister."
The two instantly began bickering, drowning out the sound of Jane's relieved sigh. Lizzy still noticed, however, her eldest sister's relief at having the subject dropped. She wondered if Jane did admire Mr. Mumford and what his feelings were for her. If he had developed an attachment to Jane, he would hardly be the first to think himself in love upon so short an acquaintance with her.
Though Lizzy supposed it did not matter what either party felt as they were unlikely to encounter each other again with Jane soon removing to Lambeth. Lizzy felt a sudden pang for her eldest sister. There had been no romance in her life for a long time and she was a romantic soul. It could not have been any easier for Jane to resign herself to spinsterhood than it had been for her.
"Children." Lizzy's sharp scold functioned as intended, silencing Mary and Kitty's squabbling. United in indignation at her condescending rebuke, they both turned infuriated glances her way.
Lizzy did not miss this aspect of being with her sisters. After their mother's death she had begun to understand why her parents had been so remiss in correcting their children. There was no joy in it and progress was slow to come.
That being said, there had been some progress over the last week. It would seem her absence had made them more responsible. They had managed to keep themselves and Jane fed and the household chores had been completed. The added responsibility did not seem to be improving sisterly affection, however.
Yet Lizzy could not let herself worry about that. They were twenty and twenty-two years old, any admonishment on her part would not reform them. Their personal growth was in their own hands now. She just hoped their quarreling would not drive Jane past the brink of sanity.
"I would advise you begin getting your things organized as soon as tomorrow. Mrs. Peyton has generously offered to provide a wagon for the furniture and other sundries and a carriage for you to follow in after. They will arrive in the morning Tuesday next and I trust you will be ready."
Kitty and Mary murmured their agreement with this plan and Jane requested the imaginary Mrs. Peyton be thanked for her kindness yet again.
While her sisters began chattering about their excitement at the upcoming move, Lizzy wondered at the motives of her true employer. Was it kindness that inspired Mr. Darcy's thoughtful attentions to her sister's? Well, she supposed it was kind of him to have thought of their needs at all, but it was not kindness for the sake of kindness. He wanted her to see him in a better light.
It had been three days since she had last met with him. Three days since she had told him she would stay. He had made good on the offer he had made that night. A bank note had arrived by messenger the next afternoon, two thousand pounds written out in her name. She could have taken the money and left.
But she hadn't.
It would be convenient to claim love—that oft used pretext for bad decisions—as her reason for remaining, but she knew she could not. Their association had nothing to do with that high ideal though she knew he was convinced of his love for her.
Nor could she blame her staying completely on lust. It was a contributing factor to be sure, but not the only inducement—not even the primary inducement.
She stayed because he made her feel. Their encounters put her through a myriad of emotions, none of them positive beyond those few minutes of ecstasy—yet they were emotions—salient, undeniable emotions. Her sisters had needed her to be strong. To be her cheerful, sensible self even when all she had wanted to do was crawl in bed and sob. That was what their mother had done. She had lain in bed and wept herself to death.
Mary and Kitty and even Jane to a lesser extent, had given themselves over to sadness. Thus Lizzy could not. Misfortune came to everyone, she told herself. Grief and fury could do her no good, so she locked them away deep in her heart and soldiered on. Since then she had been afraid to feel anything for fear that the blackness she had swallowed back would escape all at once and leave her but a shattered husk.
Darcy acted as a conduit, siphoning off her grief—giving her somewhere to direct all her fury. It could hardly be the role he wished to play for her.
Lizzy had yet to discover what exactly Darcy hoped to gain from their association. There must be any number of women willing to give him pleasure without being paid. Love might be the reason he gave for his desire to have her in particular, yet Lizzy could not believe it. Most of the time he seemed as angry with her as she was with him.
Jane interrupted her thoughts. "I must say Lizzy your employer has restored my faith in the goodness of humanity."
Lizzy didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"It is excessively kind of her to go to such trouble for a companion who merely fetches things and finds her spectacles when she has misplaced them," Lizzy replied.
"Her generosity is excessive, but you do not give yourself enough credit. Any servant might do those things. I'm sure she chose you for your compassion, your conversation."
Had Jane just solved the mystery, Lizzy wondered. Was Mr. Darcy a lonely man in need of her compassion and conversation?
Upon arriving home from church Mr. and Miss Darcy were informed by the elderly butler that the Earl and Countess of Matlock were awaiting their return in the drawing room . . . with Lady Catherine. Both siblings knew this could mean nothing good.
"I suppose Uncle will wish to discuss Mr. Hatfield?" Georgiana asked.
"Most likely," Darcy replied.
"And Aunt Catherine will wish to complain about my lack of attendance at the Hampton's ball?"
"Assuredly."
"I think I have a headache."
Darcy smiled fondly at his younger sister. "Understandable." .
"Would it be beastly of me to make you face them alone?"
"No, I have nothing planned for today and you know what a loathsome creature I can be when I have no occupation. A Sunday morning row is precisely what I need."
Georgiana snorted. "Don't let them marry you off to horrid Lady Celia."
"Is she really so awful?"
"Well, no, but her mother is."
Darcy nodded. Lady Bennington was almost as dreadful as Catherine.
"My one suggestion is this," he whispered as they crept up the stairs, "if they hear the pianoforte they may find it difficult to believe you are unwell." She had been caught in a lie more than once that way.
"I will try to get rid of them as quickly as possible," Darcy added, seeing her distress. She liked to practice for at least three hours every day and would probably play through the day complete if someone did not interrupt and make her take her meals.
"You are the best of brothers."
"Only because I have the best of sisters."
When they had reached the first floor he stood in the doorway of the drawing room giving Georgiana time to sneak past to her chambers undetected. Once certain his sister had made it to sanctuary, he entered the room and greeted his relation.
Lady Catherine looked like a wet hen. Lord Matlock looked like an overfed bull dog who had just been deprived of his favorite bone. Lady Matlock was grinning with open amusement at the surly siblings. She would like Elizabeth, Darcy thought. They both took such pleasure in the absurd. A smile twitched at his lips as it always did when he thought of Elizabeth. Then it quickly fell away. Elizabeth could never meet his aunt.
Lady Matlock's expression shifted from amusement to concern as she watched the change in his features. "Are you well, Fitzwilliam?"
&nbs
p; "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Georgiana sends her apologies, she is feeling a bit fatigued."
The Earl harrumphed but his wife said, "Quite understandable."
"She might have stayed home and heard Mr. Gage's sermon with me if she was feeling so poorly," Lady Catherine said. She had hired a retired clergyman to provide her a private sermon on those Sundays she was too ill to go to church, which lately had been every Sunday. Her invalidity seemed to be confined strictly to Sundays as every other day of the week she kept to her active social calendar. Darcy suspected she enjoyed the freedom of interrupting the unfortunate Mr. Gage any time she chose.
"She felt fine before we left."
"And I daresay she will feel wonderful again by this afternoon. A short nap is all that is needed, I'm sure," said Lady Matlock with a twinkle in her eye.
"Indeed," was Darcy's dry reply.
The arrival of the tea cart thankfully interrupted further discussion of Georgiana's feigned illness. A silent battle was fought between Lady Catherine and Lady Matlock over who would pour (Lady Matlock arose the victor). Another war—this one quite audible— was waged over whether Lord Matlock ought to have a tea cake (apparently this was an additional prohibition by his physician). Lady Matlock proved the champion yet again. There were a few blissful moments of silence during which Darcy spitefully ate two tea cakes even though he was not the least bit hungry.
The quiet was shattered when both Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock turned to Darcy and said, "We need to talk."
At least they had finally found something to agree on.
They were not pleased to be in agreement, however, if their identical sour expressions were any indication. Darcy wondered if his mother had worn that same mien when displeased. He remembered she shared their mouth and dimpled chin but not their discontentment, even when she was gravely ill she still smiled. Adoration of their youngest sibling was the only thing that had ever united his Aunt Catherine and his Uncle Pernell. With Anne Darcy gone no one could make peace between them.
Lord Matlock barreled on before Catherine could continue, "As much as you might like to, you cannot spend all your time between your new mistress's thighs."
"Do not speak in such filthy things in front of me," Lady Catherine screeched even though Darcy was fairly certain this was the topic she had intended to address as well.
"Cathy, as you are always reminding me, you are three years my senior, I am certain you have heard the word mistress before."
Darcy sighed. "I feel we have had this discussion at least a thousand times. But I will say it once more. I do not neglect my duties. I have never neglected my duties. I have not done a single thing that would warrant your constant lecturing to me as if I were a child. Where I spend my limited recreational time is not your business, though why you believe I have a mistress I cannot know."
Lady Catherine, never one to be left out of a quarrel burst in, "Not our business—of course it's our business! It is a matter of family honor. And I do not merely believe you have a mistress, I know! It is a simple thing, Nephew, to have a carriage followed. I know where you are keeping her. I do not yet know who she is, but it is only a matter of time."
"You will leave her out of this."
The Earl flinched at his nephew's fierce reply, but Lady Catherine simply smirked at having her accusations confirmed.
"Now, now," Lord Matlock said soothingly, "we are not suggesting you give up the girl entirely."
"Yes, we are!"
"The boy has a right to a mistress. Men have needs."
Lady Matlock cleared her throat. Her expression was amused rather than insulted, but her husband's eyes went wide all the same.
"Not me, darling! I knew since I first laid eyes on you that you were the only lady for me."
"Only a fool would think anything else and though you certainly speak foolishly at times, you are not a fool," Lady Matlock teased.
"We are not saying you must give her up," Lord Matlock began anew.
Lady Catherine made a protest but he talked over her.
"We simply want you not to lose sight of your responsibilities. You say you do not neglect your duties, yet Georgiana missed three events this week."
"She had no wish to attend and I had no wish to press her."
"She is young, Darcy, she does not understand the importance. How is she ever to find a husband if she does not leave the house?"
"She is hardly a shut-in, Uncle. I escorted her to the theater, two dinner parties and one musicale this week."
"Yes, but she missed the Hampton's ball. Viscount Bancroft was there—he asked about her. I hear he is looking for a wife."
Lord Bancroft, Lydia Bennet's protector, was a scoundrel in his mid-forties, determinedly making the transformation from rakehell to roué.
"If Viscount Bancroft as much as looks at Georgie I will call him out. You know his reputation, I cannot believe you would suggest him as a suitable prospect."
"Rather rich coming from a man with a mistress himself."
"I was not referring only to the fact he has a mistress. I am more concerned that he is a wastrel who most likely has the French disease."
"There is Mr. Hatfield of Crosley Park. He asked me about her as well. What are your objections to him?"
"I have no objection to Mr. Hatfield other than Georgiana's lack of interest in him."
"What are her objections to Hatfield then!?"
"You will have to ask her."
"She is always unwell when I call."
"How odd."
Lady Matlock let loose a high pitched giggle at her nephew's deadpanned response.
Both Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock turned their glares on her which only made her laugh harder.
"Miranda, this is serious," scolded the earl, "We must convince the boy to see reason or our niece may never marry."
"Georgiana is a beautiful, talented young lady, I hardly think skipping a dreary supper with Lady Bennington is going to deprive her of a husband."
Simultaneously, Lady Catherine and Lord Matlock crossed their arms. Lady Matlock burst out laughing once again at their synchronous movement and Darcy, as annoyed as he was, could not stifle a snicker.
"Georgiana should be left to me," Lady Catherine declared, "She's on her third Season now and has made no attempts at finding a match. It is clear to me you will not take a stern hand with her. I promise you I would not tolerate her dawdling."
"Yes, we know what a fine job you do of raising young ladies," the Earl quipped.
Lady Matlock spoke up before her husband's comment could incite another row, "I do not think Fitzwilliam has been lax in his duties to his sister, nor am I lax in my duties as her chaperone. Georgiana simply lacks the inclination to marry at this time. All of that will change when the right gentleman comes along."
"What if she decides she is in love with the wrong gentleman? She and that Friedler character have gotten much too friendly of late."
"There is nothing inappropriate between Georgiana and Mr. Friedler. It is a friendship united by their love of music—nothing more," Darcy said, not entirely believing his own words. He suspected the friendship was the root of Georgiana's lack of interest in the marriage mart.
"Any association between Georgiana and that man is inappropriate. He's a foreigner and a Jew for all this nonsense about conversion."
"The family is respectable," argued Lady Matlock.
Lady Catherine laughed humorlessly. "You cannot purchase respectability, Miranda."
"Your snobbery is ridiculous. Even Lady Cadbury invited the Friedlers to her soirée."
"Well, she shouldn't have. I cannot abide how the social order is being destroyed. People of quality mixing with merchants and money lenders," Lord Matlock said with a shudder.
"If you are not going to find her a husband you must at least make certain she does not set her cap at him."
Darcy was about to assure his uncle he would never allow Georgiana to make such an unsuitable match but stopped himse
lf. Who was he to say who Georgie should marry? Mr. Friedler was not another Wickham. He had wealth of his own and Darcy did not think his friendship with Georgiana was attempt to raise his social status.
Such a match would cause whispers, but should the whispers of fools cause him to keep his sister from happiness?
"I will not."
"Darcy, see here—," the Earl began but his nephew would not hear it.
"I will not. I have allowed my relation to make a wreck out of my life, but I will not let you do the same to hers."
"A connection to Friedler would wreck her life! People might invite him to their parties, but they will not approve of a match between a lady of her breeding and one such as him. She will be cut by everyone. She will lose her place in society."
"I am no longer convinced having a place in society is so damn important!"
Darcy's impassioned speech silenced the room for a full minute.
It was Lady Catherine who found her voice first. "Darcy, you should watch your language in front of a lady," she said primly.
"My apologies, Aunt Miranda."
Lady Catherine scowled.
"You must—," the Earl began blustering again, but Lady Matlock interrupted him.
"Husband, I am beginning to question my earlier assertion that you are not a fool. You have spoken your piece and our nephew has made it clear he does not wish to hear it. He has enough of the Fitzwilliam stubbornness for me to be certain you will not change his mind."
The Earl sighed in defeat then snatched a tea cake before his wife could stop him.
"I do not know why you waste your efforts on me, Uncle, when you have your own family to worry over."
"My line is secure. Hugh has done his duty. Four sons. Four sons and he is not much older than you."
"I was referring to Richard. He is yet unwed, you might terrorize him."
"Oh, that boy," Lord Matlock groaned as if just the thought of his younger son exasperated him. "There is no point in even talking to him. He will not listen to me."
The Ruin of Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 7
