by Jayne Bamber
“I am not going to London for fun,” Elizabeth snapped.
“Well, I wish you would tell me why, then,” Jane said with frustration. “I saw Mamma crying about it. If you will have no pleasure in going, then you had better stay here!”
“It would make Uncle happy,” Elizabeth said, averting her eyes and watching the dancers below.
“He does not seem happy about it to me,” Jane retorted.
“He does not seem happy about anything,” Charlotte observed. “I suppose it must be the curse.”
“What curse?”
“Hush, Charlotte,” Elizabeth whispered, sticking out her leg to kick at her cousin.
“I was only joking,” Charlotte said. “Of course there isn’t a curse. Richard said so, and he is the smartest person I know.”
“William said Richard is a blockhead,” Jane quipped. “He is the smartest person I know.”
“William does not say anything to me,” Elizabeth snapped, “and I think Uncle is the smartest. I know he is very sad, but I will go to London to make him happy. And I can see Aunt Olivia’s new baby. I am going to be her helper, and make Uncle happy.”
“Hush,” Charlotte scoffed. “Someone will hear us. I want to stay awhile and look at all the handsome gentlemen. I shall get to dance with them next year, and I am trying to decide which one to set my cap at.”
This elicited a giggle from Elizabeth and Jane; their quarrel momentarily forgotten, they all sat silently for a few minutes as they peered down at the ballroom in youthful admiration.
“Cousin Richard is very handsome,” Jane whispered with a bashful smile, “even if my brother says he is a blockhead. I like his new uniform very much.”
“I do not,” Charlotte huffed. “If he goes to war, it shall break my heart.”
“Maybe that is why William called him a blockhead,” Elizabeth said absently.
“Cousin William is looking well tonight,” Charlotte sighed, leaning closer to the railing. “He is the finest dancer I ever saw!”
“Shall you dance with him when you have your come out?”
“Cousin Anne would probably tear my hair out if I tried! Anyhow, I daresay I am not handsome enough to tempt him. My mother told me I am quite plain, and I suppose she was right.”
“No, Charlotte,” Elizabeth hissed. “You are perfectly lovely. You always have the prettiest gowns, and your hair is like chocolate.”
“Or mud!”
“I like mud.”
Charlotte nudged Elizabeth playfully, and Elizabeth smiled back at her cousin before glancing over at Jane, who was eyeing their exchange with wounded suspicion. She had tears welling in her eyes, and her lip began to tremble as if she might cry. “I think I understand,” she whispered. “You two shall be the best of friends together in London, and I shall go off to school, all alone among strangers!”
“Jane, it is not like that! I have to go!”
“Why? You will not tell me why you must go.”
“I cannot tell you. You would hate me if I told you the truth.”
Jane scoffed with disgust. “I do not believe you. If you do not wish to tell me your secrets, as you do with Charlotte, so be it. Go to London. I shall go to school, I shall take the Darcy name, and I shall make loads of new friends who do not break my heart – or our mother’s!”
Elizabeth chewed her lip and averted her eyes as Jane wiped away a tear and leapt to her feet. “She is not our mother.”
Jane clenched her fists and let out a snort of exasperation. “You are a wicked, ungrateful girl, and I am going to tell Grandmamma you are up here!”
Elizabeth met Jane’s eye and gave her sister a ferocious look. “Go on then. You have nothing to cry about, as I do. Tell Grandmamma whatever you like. I do not care what happens to me.” Jane looked back at her with confusion and fury on her face before she spun on her heel and ran away.
6
May 1805, Gracechurch Street, London
Lady Matlock paused silently in the open doorway to her brother’s study, observing with fond bemusement as he stared abstractedly at the book he was holding upside down, his face crunched into a steady cringe as, right above them, upstairs, two infants shrieked and cried. A moment later, Edward’s eyes came back into focus; he quickly grimaced at the book as he discarded it, and then started as he looked up and noticed his sister. “That is it – we are moving the nursery as far away from my study as possible, or I shall lose my mind. Oh, good afternoon, Phyllis. Did you know, twins run in the Bertie family? Her grandmother had two sets of twins! This, but twice!” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, deflated from his outburst.
Phyllis smiled reminiscently. “You sound like Tom Bennet after Fanny had Mary. Once one of the three started a ruckus, the other two soon followed suit, night and day!”
Edward chuckled softly. “Every letter I got from Tom for five years seemed to have the word ‘caterwauling’ heavily underscored.”
Phyllis took a hesitant step into the room, and inclined her head as if asking permission to enter.
“Come in, sit down. Where are my manners?”
“I take it I am forgiven, then?”
“You are. I ought to have come round more since you got back to Town, but....” He waved his hand idly.
“No, I do understand. And we have been....” She mimicked his hand gesture. “It has been strange, to say the least. It was something of a shock to return from such a pleasant wedding trip, and see Henry so instantly occupied with business affairs and Parliament. We worry about Richard being sent to the continent. And then... well, I do not know what to make of my new position. From companion to countess, it sounds like something out of a novel. I have three step-children – they are quite grown, used to their old ways and missing their mother. With the girls... the Darcys got to start so young with them.”
“I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, my dear, but I am certainly no expert. I suppose we both have faced the same obstacle – marrying up, as Fanny once said. I got a younger start of it, and was on more equal footing in some respects, you know. But you are very worthy of Henry. You will make him a fine wife and Countess; I suspect you have loved one another for some years now. The children might have known you only as their grandmother’s companion these ten years, but you are the aunt of their cousins, and you have been family to them already.”
“Are you quite sure you are not an expert? That was wonderfully said of you, Brother.”
“Pah. It is always easier to dispense wisdom to others than to heed it oneself.”
“That is very clever – who said that?”
“Sir Edward Gardiner.”
“Well!” Phyllis grinned at him for a moment, then turned serious. “How is Olivia?”
“A little better since she had the twins.”
“It was good of her to call them after Fanny and Tom.”
“After naming her daughter Georgiana Augusta Rose, it was about time for something....”
“Less ostentatious?”
“Precisely.”
Phyllis laughed. “So, Olivia is... better?”
“A little. I’ve crumpled up a dozen letters to George and Anne these last three months.”
“You have something to get off your chest?”
“I suppose I do. The truth is, Phyllis, I feel damned awful for taking Lizzy. She begged me and I... I realized I needed it very much myself. It was utterly selfish of me not to insist she stay at Pemberley, and I fear the Darcys will hate me forever – not to mention how much it may ultimately harm Lizzy’s prospects.”
“I think I see what you mean. Things were not well with Olivia, and you needed a friendly face about the house.”
“I have Rose, but she is so young, and too like her mother at times. Lizzy is different. Even at thirteen she is so... so old for her age. I think that after recent events she has grown up so much, and it is such a comfort to have her here. There are days when she provides the only rational conversation I have all day.”
“A little less, perhaps. She is fond of the twins, and Rose; I am sure she would like to see more of Charlotte. She seems to have an inexplicable calming effect on Olivia, like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“That is odd. I never saw Olivia pay Lizzy any particular attention before.”
“I think it was different, before. In so many ways, Lizzy’s childhood abruptly ended that day at Pemberley, when she heard us speaking about the accident. As to Olivia... I suspect there is a great deal about her childhood that she has never spoken of – things perhaps just as unpleasant. When she is with Lizzy, it is as if they understand each other perfectly; they can communicate so much with just a look. The way they speak together is so quick and clever – they could talk circles around one another for hours and laugh it off. It has brought back the Olivia I married, and it is a delight for me to behold.”
“You ought to pick up your pen once more; tell George and Anne exactly what you have just told me. I think they should be very glad to hear it.”
He smiled and nodded. “I suppose I shall. You are for Derbyshire soon, I hear.”
“Yes, in about a fortnight. We must get Lizzy and Charlotte together before then. Better still, why not come up with us? Surely you have enough clever men in your employ to be able to take some time away from Gardiner Imports?”
“Perhaps. I shall mention it to Olivia. Will you be often at Pemberley?”
“I hope so. John is taking William with him to see the estate in Scotland – we are thinking of fixing it up for Richard someday, perhaps coax him into giving up his commission. I think Jane and Charlotte had a row at Christmas.”
“Did they? That is not like Jane.”
“I am sure she was upset about Lizzy coming to London, and perhaps because it means Lizzy will see more of Charlotte... I shall speak to Anne about it. The girls were very cold to one another when we collected Charlotte after our honeymoon. And it was just after... well, perhaps it is unrelated.”
“Perhaps bringing Lizzy back to visit Pemberley so soon would only add to the friction. Speak to Anne about it first.”
“I shall, but you really ought to write as well.”
“You have my word.”
“Well then, I had better be off. I do believe Miss Lizzy has been rattling away at Henry since we arrived!”
Edward nodded and waved her off. “Off with you, then. Send word if you have a free afternoon, and I shall bring Lizzy round. Otherwise... if anyone asks, do speak well of us.”
“I shall, Edward.”
***
Elizabeth set aside her book and smiled. “Good day, Uncle Henry.”
“Happy birthday, Miss Lizzy!” The earl reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a present for her – he hadn’t wrapped it properly, but had tied a generous length of very lovely pink ribbon around a leather-bound book, which he presented to her with a cheerful grin.
Elizabeth accepted the book with thanks, and then looked down at the title. Smirking, she held up the book she had been reading before – it was the very same, Letters for Literary Ladies by Maria Edgeworth.
Uncle Henry guffawed. “Well, my goodness!”
Laughing, Elizabeth said, “It is quite a coincidence – Richard sent me a copy last week.”
“And how do you like it? Rather daring reading for a lady of fourteen!”
“It is certainly edifying! I am glad to have another copy, for I have been discussing it with Aunt Olivia, and now it will be easier for us to go through it together.”
“And how are you and your aunt getting on?”
Elizabeth raised her hand to her forehead and laughed. “Well, I certainly think she would be scolding me for having gone on for so long without offering you some tea, and making her apologies to you – she is resting presently. I have been learning my way around playing hostess since she was in confinement. Let me call for some refreshments. Here, come and sit in Uncle Edward’s chair – he will never know.”
Uncle Henry sat down where he was bid and watched her with a look of pride. “Well, go on then, my dear. Show me how it’s done.”
Elizabeth called for the tea, and when it arrived she poured him a glass, embarrassed that she was not quite sure how he liked it, and so she compensated by slicing him a rather large piece of cake.
“You spoil me, my dear. Tell me,” he asked, sipping his tea, “how do you like living in London?”
Elizabeth considered, swirling the spoon in her own tea. “I like talking with Uncle Edward; we have such interesting conversations. And with Aunt Olivia. She is very smart – frighteningly so, at times, but I admire her. I know there is some great secret about her that no one will tell me, but I think I can get her to confide in me.” She gave her uncle a look of triumph.
He smiled back at her. “Is that so? She speaks candidly with you, does she?”
“More and more, yes. I think she is quite frank with everybody.”
“How long do you think before you wheedle it out of her?”
She smiled wolfishly at him. “So there is a secret?”
He laughed. “You have got until your eighteenth birthday – ten pounds on it.”
She shook the earl’s hand on the wager. “With such an inducement, I am sure to succeed.”
Her uncle leaned back in his chair, studying her with an expression of affectionate curiosity. “Something about you has changed. You are far more... grown up, different since we were all at Pemberley.”
Elizabeth blushed. She knew precisely what it was – her courses had begun for the first time a week after she had arrived in London, but she couldn’t imagine telling her uncle such a thing. At least she had Aunt Olivia’s unfailing candor to turn to for questions of that nature.
“Well,” her uncle said, seeming not to notice that she had not answered him, “I am very glad of it. I had hoped you would do well here in London. I know my sister was hoping to hear good tidings of you.”
“I am content, sir,” she replied. She felt her will to converse suddenly recede, knowing now that everything she said would likely be relayed to her parents and sisters – to the Darcys. There had been not so much as a single letter exchanged between Pemberley and Gracechurch Street in five months, though she knew her uncle’s waste bin was just as full of crumpled, unsent letters as her own was. She wondered if this might also be the case at Pemberley, a painful thought. “Are you going to Matlock this summer?”
“We are, in a week or two more. We thought to bring you all with us.”
“Oh.”
“We might perhaps visit Pemberley a few times.”
“Naturally. Well, perhaps I might send a letter or two up with you, maybe a few little presents. Would you... would you tell them all to write to us?”
“I could, unless you wish to tell them yourself?”
Elizabeth hesitated and replied, “Aunt Olivia has gotten me a book about Lyme Regis, and we thought to go to the seaside....” The disappointment in his eyes tore at Elizabeth’s heart, and she looked away. “But I should like to have some letters....”
7
Pemberley, Derbyshire
7 June, 1805
Dear Sir Edward,
George and I are remiss in sending you not one but two sets of congratulations. Phyllis has been singing the praises of little Tom and Fanny Gardiner all week, and I am looking forward to making their acquaintance when we are in London this winter. All Charlotte can talk about is her come-out, and so I am sure it shall be for the next six months.
We had hoped you would all come and visit us this summer, but I can well understand the temptation of the seaside, in all this heat. No, I must be honest – I can well understand why you truly have stayed away. I suppose it is too soon for Lizzy to return as a visitor, without it feeling a rather forced homecoming – that is what George thinks, at least. I miss her desperately, but I am determined to accept the change in her situation for as long as she wishes it, and I shall love her
nonetheless. I should always wish her, and all your family, to feel welcome at Pemberley, no matter what comes.
I shall bid the girls to write Lizzy, and if she wishes it, I shall write her myself. I hear she is grown quite the adventurous reader, and an assiduous hostess while Lady Olivia was in her confinement. I look forward to hearing tales from Lyme Regis very soon.
Your loyal friend,
Lady Anne Darcy
***
Matlock Park, Derbyshire
4 September, 1805
Dear Jane,
Thank you for your letter. I was sorry to hear about Miss Bingley’s unfortunate remarks, but if she is not to return to school after Christmas, at least you will not have to bear her distemper much longer – and I for one think your French is quite good! As to your troubles with Miss Jensen, have you considered a frog under her pillow? Rose left one under mine last week, and I can confirm that it is a shocking experience.
Lyme-Regis was quite pleasant, thank you for asking. Sea-bathing is great fun. Uncle Edward thought Rose and I might be afraid, but I liked it very much, and Rose was bold as ever. The inn was quite grand, and the scenery was indescribably lovely. I attempted a few rubbish watercolors, and Uncle and I laughed at my folly. I had high hopes of capturing all the majesty of the Cobb – the light glimmering on the water, the blasted fragments of shipwrecks along the shore, and every picturesque aspect, and to my disappointment I am left to remember it only by a lithograph Aunt Olivia purchased at the circulating library.
Aunt Olivia wanted to go to Brighton and see the Royal Pavilion, and I confess I grew so curious about the place that she bought me a book about it (featuring many sketches far better than my own!) and told me some stories about her last visit there, the summer before she met Uncle Edward – she met the Prince! She says he is fearfully handsome, and I hope I might catch a glimpse.
