The Darcy Cousins

by Monica Fairview

  But why, oh why had she gone to the refreshments table? If only she had gone to stand with Clarissa instead of Caroline and Robert, she would not have overheard Mr Channing’s dreadful words.

  Groaning inwardly, she drew the sheet over her head only to have it yanked from her.

  “I do not know why you are pretending to be asleep, but whatever your reasons,” said Clarissa, “I do not intend to let you get away with it.”

  Georgiana feigned sleep as hard as she could, hoping Clarissa would go away.

  But Clarissa leaned over and tickled her on her sides.

  “What!” She sprang up in bed and stared at her.

  “Aha!” said Clarissa. “I knew that would do the trick.”

  “How dare you…” Georgiana began to sputter, for no one had done such a thing since she had been ten and new to boarding school.

  Clarissa bounced onto the side of the bed and settled there. “Dear Georgie. Have you never been tickled? With three older brothers and one younger sister, I have been tickled more times than I care to recall, though of course now my brothers have become too old to do it.” She regarded her as though it was quite pitiful to have missed such an experience. “I suppose your brother Fitzwilliam has always been too old to do it.”

  “Of course I have been tickled,” replied Georgiana indignantly. “Plenty of times.”

  “It would do you good to be tickled, now and again.”

  But Georgiana was in no mood for such things. “I do not wish to offend you, Clarissa, but I want to rest.”

  “I do not understand you. We did not even stay out late last night,” said Clarissa. “Did something happen at the dance? You were very quiet in the carriage on the way home. Anything you would like to tell me?”

  “There is nothing to tell, Clarissa. Now would you be so kind as to leave me alone?” Georgiana pulled the cover again over her face.

  “No,” she said. “I will not. I will not force you to tell me, though I can, you know. You will tell me eventually, in your own good time. Everyone does.”

  With a quick sweep she pulled the cover off the bed entirely and skipped away with it.

  “If you want the cover,” she said, “you will have to come and get it. I will not allow you to languish in bed all day like a heroine out of a melodrama.”

  “Very well,” said Georgiana half exasperated and half amused. “I will not languish in bed all day. I will complete my toilette and then join you. Does that satisfy you?”

  “As long as you do not linger, for I will be back if you do not join me quickly enough. Perhaps I might even send Dawson.”

  ***

  Georgiana came downstairs to find two large baskets of flowers occupying two tables in the hallway. A maid who was passing by smiled and pointed out that one of them was for her, the other for Miss Clarissa. She picked up the note that came with her flowers, hoping—quite illogically, she knew—that it might be from Channing.

  Dear Miss Darcy,

  Thank you for an enjoyable evening. I hope to have the pleasure of another such occasion very soon.

  Sincerely,

  Gatley

  Georgiana swallowed down her disappointment. The note afforded her little satisfaction. Certainly it went no farther than politeness required, and it was a painful reminder of events she would rather forget.

  Curiosity compelled her to look at the other basket. The flowers were similar, no doubt obtained from the same nursery. Looking carefully around to make sure no one would catch her, she furtively pulled out the note attached to the flowers.

  Dear Miss Clarissa,

  You dance like an angel and float like a cloud. You are the vision that inhabits my dreams.

  I await our next encounter with pitiful impatience.

  Sincerely,

  Channing

  If she needed a knife to her pride, that was it.

  ***

  Everything about that day seemed intended to increase her misery. Though she had known beforehand that Frederick was leaving, the sight of trunks being loaded into a waiting carriage made her so gloomy she had to escape. She took refuge in the garden. She did not want to say goodbye. She knew—given the state she was in—that she would cry.

  But she was not destined to be left to her solitude. Very soon, a quick step crunched on the gravel behind her.

  “I see that my departure means nothing to you,” said Frederick joining her on the path. “Clearly you prefer walking in the garden to bidding me farewell.”

  “I dislike goodbyes, especially when I know we will not meet for a long time,” said Georgiana.

  “We will see each other sometime soon, I am sure. Now that the war is over, travel is much easier,” said Frederick cheerfully.

  Georgiana nodded and kept her gaze on the tips of her blue slippers.

  “I hope all this unhappiness is not occasioned by my departure?” said Frederick with some concern.

  Georgiana looked up quickly. “Oh, no. No!” She liked Frederick a great deal, but she had certainly not developed an attachment to him.

  “Good,” said Frederick, tossing her a relieved smile. When she did not smile back, he continued, “Is there something troubling you?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about,” she replied.

  He offered her his arm and began to stroll down the path with her.

  “I will not interfere in your affairs, of course. But I do have something of my own to confide in you. Mind, you must tell no one at all of this, not even Robert.”

  Surprised by his earnest tone, she promised readily, wondering what he could possibly tell her that was so secret.

  “It is about my sister. I cannot leave without assuring myself that someone at least is aware of her situation. I feel that I can trust you, and since you are close to her in age, perhaps you will be able to help her.”

  For a moment he hesitated.

  “Pray do not tell me if you think it would upset my cousin,” said Georgiana.

  Frederick smiled. “You have just proved to me that I was right to trust you.” He lowered his voice. “We were not sent here by chance. I fear my sister is in disgrace, for she formed a very improper attachment, and Mama deemed it best that she be removed from temptation as soon as possible.”

  Georgiana gave a little gasp.

  Frederick nodded, as if she had actually said something. “I see you realise the gravity of the situation. But I beg of you, not a word to anyone. I mentioned it only because I hope you will help me keep an eye on her, for she has taken the enforced separation very badly, and I would not wish her to do anything foolish.”

  Georgiana thought of the cheerful young lady who was so full of vibrant energy. She could not imagine anyone less likely to be suffering from a broken heart than Clarissa.

  “I will look after her,” said Georgiana.

  Frederick took her hand and bowed over it.

  “Thank you, Cousin. I am in your debt. I did not like to leave without assuring myself that someone would watch out for her. Goodbye for now.”

  He turned and left. A few minutes later, the doors of the carriage shut. The rattle of the carriage as it moved away slowly faded into silence.

  It saddened her to say goodbye to Frederick, but he had distracted her with his new revelation. She pondered Clarissa’s behaviour, turning over in her mind specific moments with her cousin. She found nothing that would provide any clue to Clarissa’s state of mind. She could only conclude that Frederick had exaggerated his sister’s distress. The other alternative was that, after a long time at sea, and some time already in England, Clarissa no longer felt the separation so strongly.

  Nevertheless, her sympathy went out to her cousin, for she knew what it was like to love someone unsuitable and to be forced to relinquish him.

  It was in that moment that Georgiana decided to
aid and support her cousin no matter what the consequences. Later, she would come to remember this moment with irony, but for now, her mind was quite made up.

  ***

  Georgiana discovered one more new thing about her cousin before the day was over. As she was leaving the drawing room to fetch some thread, Clarissa stopped her.

  “I have just found out that Mrs Jenkinson has a piano in her room. I do not like to practise in the drawing room, especially since there always seems to be somebody there. But in Mrs Jenkinson’s room, we are left to our own devices. Shall we go there?”

  Georgiana, who also disliked practising when there were people around, readily followed her.

  Clarissa lifted the piano cover and, running her fingers expertly up and down the keys, launched into a humorous, light capriccio piece. It displayed Clarissa’s virtuosity very well and lifted some of the heaviness from Georgiana’s spirit.

  “That was beautifully played,” said Georgiana, applauding wholeheartedly. “I am not familiar with the piece, and I see that you have not brought your music sheets. Is it by an American composer?”

  Clarissa smiled a little secret smile. “I suppose you could say so. I will tell you the name of the composer, but you must not reveal it to anyone. It is by a Miss Clarissa Darcy.”

  Georgiana regarded her with astonishment. “The whole of it? Did you not have any assistance from your music master?”

  “None.” Clarissa beamed.

  “But it is beautiful! No wonder you played it so well.”

  Clarissa’s eyes blazed with pride. “Thank you. I have revealed the truth to very few people—just a couple of friends, Frederick, and my younger brother and sister. Even my mother does not know. I am glad you like it, since I consider you a good judge.”

  They heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hallway towards them. Clarissa jumped up, an unusually flustered look on her face. Georgiana laughed as Clarissa scrambled onto the settee and picked up a book of poems.

  Dawson, Lady Catherine’s maid, entered, and, casting a suspicious look at Clarissa, began to bustle around the room.

  “Her ladyship was just now asking what the two young ladies were up to,” she said. “I believe you are wanted in the living room.”

  “Tell Lady Catherine we will join her there very soon,” said Clarissa.

  Dawson puffed up a pillow, straightened out a table cloth, cast another searching glance at Clarissa, then left the room.

  “Lady Catherine sent her to spy on us! Imagine that! Are we to have no peace anywhere in the house? I thought at least here we would not be disturbed,” said Clarissa.

  “Apparently not,” said Georgiana, who was not at all surprised. “But I don’t know why you are behaving in such a furtive manner. It is perfectly acceptable for you to play the piano. You do not have to pretend to read. On the contrary, according to Anne, Lady Catherine would object more strongly if she knew you were reading.”

  Clarissa smiled wryly. “I did not think of what I was doing—I just knew I did not want anyone to find out my secret. If I stay long enough in this house, I will be jumping at shadows. For now though, since Lady Catherine does not wish it, and Dawson has no doubt gone to report us, I intend to read,” she said defiantly. She took up the book she had grabbed earlier, and, tucking her feet under her, she gave every appearance of preparing to read for some time.

  Georgiana, who did not wish to read, strayed over to the piano and began to sing the Duchess of Devonshire’s I Have a Silent Sorrow. She did not know why—sometimes she thought whimsically that since the Duchess was her namesake, there was some connection between them—but the song had always fortified her when she was gloomy.

  It was the wrong choice. Her fingers hammered at the piano, and her voice yelped. So when Clarissa winced yet again at a discordant note, she put down the piano cover and picked up a book lying on the table. It was Waverley, a novel which had taken London by storm. Confident that a good novel was just the thing to distract her from her worries, she settled down to read. But this enterprise proved even less successful than the other.

  Her mind seemed capable of holding only one thing, a single phrase—dull as ditchwater.

  There was no escaping it. He had injured her with his words. He had humiliated her. He had pierced her pride. But she felt it clearly; he had said nothing but the truth.

  She had become too dull. After Wickham’s betrayal, she had spent a great deal of time alone. She had promised herself never to make the same mistake again. So she had withdrawn into herself and devoted all her energy to her music. She had put her childish gaiety—for that was how she saw it—fully and firmly behind her.

  Her brother had been kind and he had tried his best to cheer her up, but he was a young man, with his own interests and pursuits. And then he had fallen in love and devoted himself to Elizabeth and his marriage, and now he had a son.

  Somehow, she had fallen into a rut. She had not even known that she was in one until now. When had anyone last praised her about anything but her music? True, music was an important part of any young lady’s education, but surely there should be something more than that to recommend a young lady to society?

  She had allowed herself to become dull. Mr Channing’s words had hurt her all the more because they were true. It was more than time to put Wickham behind her. She would be starting her Season in the next few weeks, and she did not want to be declared the dullard of the season.

  She had to do something.

  ***

  Georgiana observed Clarissa’s stylish form as she sat on the sofa, absorbed in her reading. Her dress was white muslin, with folded bands at the hem and a high collar, nothing elaborate at all. But the eye was drawn to the exquisite shawl—shimmering blue with gold embroidery and tassels at the corners—draped elegantly over her shoulders, and the white satin bandeau trimmed with shimmering blue flowers.

  Her own clothes, in contrast, were very plain—her white dress complemented by a pale yellow silk shawl, and a hat of matching yellow silk with a straw brim. They were well made. They were fashionable. But they were—dull.

  At that moment, Clarissa looked up and smiled. It was a smile that suggested shared secrets and common interests.

  “Do you suppose we ought to join Lady Catherine now?” she said.

  An impulse came to Georgiana, blindingly obvious the moment it occurred to her.

  She would ask for her cousin’s help. Who better to ask? Clarissa was even capable of drawing someone as morose as Anne out of her shell. Why not her? They would be ordering a new set of clothing for her in readiness for the season. She would depend on Clarissa’s advice entirely in selecting her clothes. She would take lessons from Clarissa about how to behave, and she would learn to be lively. She would transform into a charming, buoyant young lady.

  No sooner had she resolved on this course of action than she acted on it.

  “Wait. I have something particular I wish to ask you, Clarissa,” said Georgiana. She wondered even as she spoke whether Clarissa would laugh. It would be too humiliating if Clarissa were to laugh.

  “I am waiting,” said Clarissa agreeably.

  Georgiana took a deep breath. “I would like you to help me with my launch into society. My sister Elizabeth will make an excellent chaperone, I am sure. But I would rather rely on your guidance in my choice of clothing, for I find your clothes very much to my taste. Also, I would like your help to tell me how to behave with a gentleman, for Elizabeth is quite charming, but she has a sharp tongue and is quite different from me, and I could never be like her, but I would like very much to be like you.”

  The sentence was so long that she grew breathless by the end and had to stop to take a deep breath. She looked in mute appeal at her cousin, praying that Clarissa would not say something cutting and destroy her hopes.

  Clarissa, her eyes shining, took Georgiana’s
hand in hers. “You flatter me too much, Cousin. I am not at all remarkable. But I would gladly give you any assistance you would like.”

  Georgiana slumped back against her seat in relief. She squeezed Clarissa’s hand in thanks, quite unable to utter another word.

  Clarissa, who was never one to say something without acting immediately on it, sprang to her feet and began to pace the room restlessly.

  “I have some ideas for clothing that would suit your colouring,” she said enthusiastically. “I have sometimes wished to suggest some changes, but held back for fear of being thought impertinent. But I know just what would work for you.”

  She came and stopped before Georgiana, examining her closely. Then she resumed her pacing.

  “I have a tendency to overdo things. Anyone who knows me will tell you that. So if you really wish me to help you, you must promise me that if I interfere too much you will tell me, very clearly. Do you promise me that?”

  Georgiana would have promised anything at that point. “Of course I will tell you if you go too far,” said Georgiana.

  “Then let us begin this very minute,” said Clarissa, and tugging her by the arm, she dragged her away.

  Chapter 10

  It had become Anne’s habit to join them daily for a stroll around the grounds close to the house. Anne seemed to have reached some agreement with Mrs Jenkinson, for they usually met at the same time, and she no longer had to depend on furtive notes.

  Though they could hardly be called close friends, the three young ladies had at least abandoned any appearance of formality and spoke very readily of many things—just as long as they did not touch upon Anne’s situation directly. Any reference to that matter brought an immediate tension into the air that was very difficult to dispel.

  By now spring was in full bloom, prepared, it seemed, to stay its course, with none of the surprises Nature likes to let loose on unwary mortals. Along the slope which led down from the house, white and yellow competed with green, as daisies and buttercups insinuated themselves in the midst of the verdure.