by Jan Hahn
We picnicked under a large chestnut tree in the middle of the woods, Mrs. Reynolds having made sure that we carried with us a basket of fruit and cheese, a freshly baked loaf of bread, and a bottle of wine. I grew drowsy after eating and without intent, fell asleep on the rug spread over the grass. How long I slept, I know not, but I awakened upon hearing voices. I sat up and saw the colonel and Georgiana some distance away, apparently returning from a walk.
"But, Richard, we always have a harvest ball. How can you think that we would not this year?"
"It is well past harvest."
"I know, but we were not here at the right time. Just as the crops were coming in, Wills had to leave unexpectedly for London, and a month later, he sent for me. By the close of September he traveled to Hertfordshire and then there was the wedding in early October. We were never able to return to Pemberley until now; thus, we must remedy the situation and celebrate the harvest even though it is months overdue. The tenants expect it. I think we should hasten our plans before the first snow."
"I only said not to count on it. Your brother may not return from town until Christmas. You must not set your heart on it, Georgiana."
"It is not my heart that is set, but the hearts of our people. We cannot disappoint them; it is not the Darcy way. I shall write to Wills this evening and urge him to return immediately. Surely his business cannot keep him away that long."
"Georgiana," Colonel Fitzwilliam began, but she marched away from him, evidently determined not to entertain any further discussion of hopelessness. Once again, I was amazed to see her resolute nature. She had displayed little of this fire and spirit in the company of society, but here in her own sphere, Georgiana was completely at home and in charge of her opinions. I returned to the house that evening with a new respect for my young sister.
A week later Colonel Fitzwilliam had cause to ride into Lambton, the nearest town to the estate, but five miles away. Before leaving, he cautioned me once again to keep Georgiana within sight at all times while he was gone. We spent the morning sewing; I wrote another short letter to Jane and one to Mam? while she wrote to her brother.
"Shall you not write Wills also," she asked me at the completion of her task, "and we shall have them posted at the same time?"
I rose from the desk at which I worked and walked to the window overlooking the lake, as much to give myself time to think of an excuse as to enjoy the prospect. "For now, I fear my fingers are cramped from writing. Let us go out and walk about the grounds. I long for fresh air and the breeze appears to be gentle."
She readily agreed and after donning our shawls, we walked the lane that led down to the lake. I could see trout jump within and marveled at their antics. Stooping down, I leaned over and trailed my fingers through the cold water. "How beautiful!"
" 'Tis," Georgiana agreed, "but far too cold in which to swim."
"Swim? Do you mean to say that you would even consider bathing in this water?"
"Not here." She glanced over her shoulder as though to make sure no one might hear, and then whispered, "Follow me. I shall show you a place where the water is much more to my liking."
My curiosity was alive, of course, and I hurriedly caught up with her as we walked a distance through the trees, where we came upon an enchanting small pond. Lilypads encircled a part of it and a pair of frogs leaped into the water upon noting our intrusion.
"This water is much warmer," Georgiana announced, "and perfect for bathing in the middle of summer."
I looked at her in amazement. "And so you have been swimming here?"
She looked down, a blush covering her pretty countenance. "I confess I have, many years ago when I was but a child. Fee and I used to sneak down here on late summer afternoons when it was far too hot to play or climb trees." I felt myself stiffen at the mention of Fiona's name, but I tried not to show it. "It is deep out in the middle, but beside the shore one can wade for quite a distance before the water reaches your waist."
"I suppose your family must have gone sea bathing at the coast, and that you have a bathing costume," I said, searching for something to say other than speaking of Fiona.
She giggled, leaned close to me and began to whisper once again. "No, I have never gone sea bathing and neither Fee nor I owned such a garment. We stripped down to our chemises and swam in them."
"Indeed!"
"Do you think me incorrigible?"
I smiled. "Of course not. You were a child."
"Fee suggested it and back then I so longed for a friend, I believe I would have followed her anywhere."
"And were you successful in not being found out?"
"Almost," she said, and then looked away and said nothing more.
I did not know how to reply. Had this triggered a memory of a time when she was chastened or even punished? Surely, all children had such memories, although I recalled few, as neither my mother nor father paid particular attention to curbing their daughters.
Georgiana began to walk around the pond and I followed her, remaining silent, vowing to give her time if she wanted to confide anything further. On the other side, under a stand of birches, she sat down and began to pull up a wildflower, its bloom now spent. I sat beside her and watched as she plucked each drooping petal, twirled it around in her fingers and then dropped it into the pond.
"We have never spoken of Mr.Wickham, Elizabeth."
I caught my breath, wondering what she would tell me.
"I know he is your brother-in-law, but...he is a wicked man."
I nodded in agreement.
"He was not always that way. When I was a child, he spent countless hours entertaining me."
Her words echoed in my brain - Mr. Wickham had used the same phrase when speaking of her at Longbourn.
"And once, he came upon Fee and me right after we had submerged ourselves in this pond. Instead of threatening to tell on us, he promised to keep our secret and then he did the strangest thing. He discarded his jacket and vest and even his neckcloth and outer shirt. Fee and I were shocked and when he began to pull off his boots, I ducked my head under the water, for I feared he might do the same with his trousers! But he did not; instead, he plunged into the pond and dove and swam all around us. He was as much at home in the water as a fish and he spent much time that afternoon teaching me how to swim. Fee had already taught me to float on my back, but I had never mastered swimming until George showed me how easy it was."
She stopped her recital and looked directly into my eyes. "Do you think me awful, Elizabeth, confessing this to you?"
I immediately shook my head. "Of course not, my dear. You were a child obviously enjoying yourself."
"But it was not fitting...for us to be so unclothed in George's presence. If my governess or Wills had seen us, they would have been angry. And George cautioned us not to tell, for he feared he might be horsewhipped if discovered!"
I nodded and chewed my lip. What could I say? She was correct in her assessment of the situation, but it was Mr. Wickham who was to blame. He was full-grown and they were but children - well, Georgiana had been. I could not remain so generous in my opinion of Fiona, for I could not think of her with unbiased judgment. At last, I took a deep breath and said, "And so, I take it, you were not discovered."
She shook her head. "I was frightened, though, and so we did it only once more, but that time we waited until nightfall. George said there would be less chance of being caught and Fee agreed with him. We came very close, though. One of the grooms walked right over there through those trees and all three of us stayed under water until we thought our lungs might burst. I was too afraid to dare attempt it again."
She rose and indicated we should return to the house, and I was more than willing, for I had much to think over. I was more shocked than I had let on to Georgiana, not at the childish escapade she had confided, but at the fact that Mr. Wickham knew Fiona. I had always assumed he had left Pemberley before she arrived from Scotland, for I knew that he and Mr. Darcy had both attended Cambri
dge together and by that time Mr. Wickham's dissolute habits were well known to the son and heir. But now, Georgiana told me that in actuality he was there, cavorting in the pond with Fiona. My mind whirled with new suspicions, unanswered questions and the briefest glimmer of hope.
Mrs. Reynolds met us shortly after we entered the house. "The Colonel has returned and is in the drawing room, Ma'am, and the post has come. Here are letters for both of you."
Georgiana exclaimed with delight when she saw that hers was from her brother and tore it open at once. "Oh, I hope Wills is coming home and that he approves of the Harvest Ball." She scanned the letter quickly, her face falling at its contents. "He is not coming, but wait...he says we are to go ahead and make plans for the ball, that we are to hold it whether he is here or not. I am glad, but I cannot imagine a harvest ball without Wills."
And I dare not imagine it with him, I thought.
"Who did you hear from, Elizabeth? Did you receive a letter from Wills, too?"
I shook my head in response as I sifted through the mail in my hand, recognizing Kitty's scrawl and a thick parcel addressed in Jane's handwriting. I had not seen Mr. Darcy for over two weeks, nor heard one word from him. Neither had I written to him. Indeed, I was thankful I had not corresponded when filled with anger, for today's revelation now confused me. I truly did not know what to think. Could it be that all my suspicions were in error, that Mr. Darcy was innocent?
Oh, dear Lord, let it be...let it be.
Author's Note: From what I have learned through limited research, the harvest would have taken place in late summer or early September with a harvest festival ensuing no later than the end of September. I know it is a stretch for Pemberley to host such a celebration in late November, but please allow me this indulgence for the sake of the story.
Chapter 10
That night I walked in my sleep again and it was no wonder, for if I had ever been troubled before, it could not compare with the condition of my heart when I finally lay down my weary head.
As soon as possible after dinner, I had deserted Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam and escaped to my bedchamber, pleading a headache. I curled up in a large wing-back chair and tore open my parcel from Jane, for I could see that it contained more than a letter.
"Oh, well done, Jane!" I cried aloud when I recognized Mr. Darcy's torn seal on the back of the enclosed pages. My sister had found his letter that I had lost after returning home from Kent. I was anxious to read the words again - it had been so long since I had received it from his hand - and I had read it quickly at the time. I remembered little of what it contained; my father's death three days later had overtaken all other thoughts.
For now, though, I laid it aside, for surely my sisters' letters took precedence in importance. I turned my attention to Jane's correspondence, looking it over hurriedly, glad to see that things were going well at Longbourn and that she seemed in good spirits. I then attempted to read Kitty's post, but Meryton's gossip paled considerably when all I truly wished was to once again read Mr. Darcy's letter he had given me on the morning after his first disastrous proposal.
I tossed Kitty's news on top of Jane's and picked up the letter. A contrariety of emotion excited me as I made my way through it. I could easily recall how angry I had been when first I received it and how hastily I had put it aside, protesting that I would not regard it, that, in fact, I would never look in it again. Now I wished to weigh with impartiality every circumstance outlined therein and deliberate justly on the probability of each statement. I began with the fact of the senior Mr. Darcy's high regard for Mr. Wickham.
He was his godson, a detail I had overlooked completely the first time I read the letter, and a true marker of how highly Mr. Darcy, Sr., thought of my brother-in-law. Apparently, Mr. Wickham's mother was extravagant, a trait she evidently passed on to her son, and which consequently caused her husband's impoverishment. And the older Mr. Darcy's attachment to Mr. Wickham remained steady to the end of his life.
And then this detail struck me: 'My excellent father died about five years ago...'
Five years...five years, that phrase played in my head when I first learned that Fiona had a child near that age, but I could not recall where I had heard it before. Now it stood out before me in black and white. I lay the letter down and having moved from the chair to the sofa, I stared into the fire.
Mr. Wickham was a favourite of the deceased. Surely he would have returned to Pemberley upon knowledge that Mr. Darcy, Sr., was dying and he would have stayed for the funeral and the reading of the will. I had no way of knowing how long the gentleman lingered before his demise, but I could well imagine Fiona attempting to distract Georgiana from her grief by engaging in a lark such as swimming in the pond. And knowing Mr. Wickham's false nature, it was not hard to see him steal away from the deathbed to entertain himself with a foolish young lass.
I returned to the letter and saw that it was six months after the death of the late Mr. Darcy, when Mr. Wickham wrote that he had resolved against taking orders to become a clergyman and desired 3,000 pounds in settlement. That meant he must have left Pemberley sometime during the six months after his benefactor died. If Mr. Wickham had dallied with Fiona and was then confronted with the result of his misdeeds, would it not be consistent with his character to desert her and flee Pemberley?
The letter stated further that Mr. Darcy 'was perfectly ready to accede to his proposal. I knew that Mr. Wickham ought not to be a clergyman...all connection between us seemed now dissolved.' If Mr. Darcy knew that Wickham was responsible for Fiona's predicament, but refused to bear the burden, that would have caused Mr. Darcy to be even more 'perfectly ready' to spend 3,000 pounds in order to get rid of him. And in the meantime, he had moved Fiona to London, thus removing both bad influences from his impressionable young sister's company.
Suddenly, I began to feel great oppression - astonishment and apprehension flooded my mind. Never, in the whole course of our acquaintance, had I actually seen anything that betrayed Mr. Darcy to be unprincipled or unjust - anything that bespoke him of irreligious or immoral habits. Could it be my own blind vanity that had allowed me to suspect him of such a gross violation of everything right? Among his own connections he was esteemed and valued - even Wickham had allowed him merit as a brother - and over and over I had seen his repeated concern and protection for his sister. How could I have courted prepossession and ignorance and driven reason away? Till that moment I never knew myself.
Angry to discover that I might have been so wrong, I laid the letter aside. Indeed, I resolved to forget all correspondence and prepare myself for bed. So many, varied thoughts swirled around my poor brain it was a wonder I found my nightgown without aid from a servant. I did not wish for any company that night, however, not even that of a maid, and so made do alone. It felt good to be free from the constraint of my corset; perhaps I would be eased in mind as well as body with the change in clothing. I had just shrugged on my robe when I heard a light knock at the door. Now what?
I opened the door to find Georgiana, who appeared somewhat surprised that I was already dressed for bed. "I came to see how you are feeling. I do hope I did not awaken you."
"No, of course not." I ushered her into the room. "My headache is a little better and I am certain it will be gone by morning."
When I could see that she did not intend to leave, I invited her to the sofa in front of the fireplace. I scooped up my pile of letters from the end table, intending to place them on the desk, when she stopped me. "Is that Wills' handwriting? I thought you said he had not written. And what did he say? Did he give you an exact date when he might return to Pemberley?"
"No...well, that is..." I said, fumbling with the pages, as I attempted to conceal them. In so doing, I managed to drop the outside page of Mr. Darcy's letter that he had given to me in Rosings Park. Georgiana quickly picked it up, saw his opened seal and observed it addressed to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her brows knit together as she handed it to me.
; "I do not understand. Why should Wills address you in that manner? You are married."
I took the page from her and walked across the room, pulled open a drawer and dropped the entire packet into it before speaking. "There is a simple explanation. This is an old letter your brother wrote to me some months ago. I merely wished to re-read it."
"I did not know you and Wills formed an attachment months ago so that you were correspondents."
I returned to the fire, sat down in the chair across from the sofa, and took a deep breath. "Georgiana, did your brother tell you of his proposal to me when we were both in Kent at Easter?"
"Why, no," she said, smiling. "Were you engaged all that time and I never knew it?"
I shook my head and looked down at my lap. "We were not engaged. I turned him down the first time."
Her eyes grew big and round. "I cannot believe it. Did you dislike him so?"
"I confess my opinion of him was somewhat hampered at the time, but it is all in the past and not worth remembrance. Surely you did not come to question me about distant history. Tell me what I can do for you."
She rose and walked to the fireplace, pressed her lips together several times, clasped and unclasped her hands, and then turned. "Elizabeth, the things I told you this afternoon..."
"Yes?"
"The things about Mr. Wickham and Fee and myself...you will keep them in confidence, will you not?"
"Of course, if you wish it."
"I do. I do wish it, especially from Wills. He...well, it is just best that he not know."
"Georgiana, I do not understand. Why must you hide this from your brother? You were only a child; you did nothing wrong. If anyone is to blame, it is Mr. Wickham...or..."
"Or Fee?"
I looked away, struggling not to show my loss of composure. "Exactly how old were you and Fiona when all of that occurred?"
"I could not have been more than eleven and I think Fee had just turned fifteen the previous January."
