Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  Emma still appeared very displeased, and Mr. Knightley coughed to conceal a little laugh; Rebecca was sure Mrs. Elton’s pert nonsense was not quite spent, and resolved to provoke more of it if she could. “What a pity for all the friends you leave behind in Bath – I understand you were quite attached to some of the young people of my sister Lady Hartley’s set – how they must lament your marriage carrying you away from them.”

  Again Mrs. Elton appeared ignorant of the barb in Rebecca’s comment, though Mr. Knightley gave her a knowing look. “I shall certainly miss them, and write them, and think of them very often,” Mrs. Elton said. “But I am come now to Highbury with a great hope of making some very dear friends here, and I must say I am very pleased, very pleased by the potential for us all to get on so famously – how fond we shall all grow of one another! There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves; it is not my nature. My attachments are always excessively strong. I told Captain Hunt at one of the Bath assemblies this winter that if he was to tease me all night, I would not dance with him, unless he would allow my dear friend Miss Andrews to be as beautiful as an angel. The men think us women incapable of real friendship, you know, and I am determined to show them the difference. Now, if I were to hear anybody speak slightingly of you, I should fire up in a moment – but that is not at all likely, I am sure.”

  Rebecca was obliged to disguise her mirth with attending to her injured ankle, and Mr. Knightley moved to assist her in getting better situated, taking the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “I needn’t have brought you from London to Highbury; Mrs. Elton’s friendship must be beyond anything for Emma.” Grinning, Rebecca nudged his face with her shoulder, and loudly declared she was now quite comfortable.

  Mrs. Elton continued to wax poetic about the great shock it must be to have injured one’s self, and her determination to be useful and attentive throughout Rebecca’s recovery, as a particular compliment to her ‘dear friend’ Lady Hartley, when finally Mr. Elton began to show some awareness of his bride’s absurdity; he suggested they had stayed long enough, and carried his preposterous wife away.

  At last, they might all be at ease; they each began to vent their varying degrees of displeasure and disgust with the newlyweds. That she should refer to Mr. Knightley as just ‘Knightley’ – the irritating way she had called Mr. Elton ‘Mr. E’ and had even once or twice referred to him as her caro sposo, which he bore with a defiant smile at everyone – her threat of reading Gothic novels to them – her surprise that Emma’s governess should actually be a gentlewoman – these insidious crimes were laughed over until their complaints all grew redundant, and once their mirth was spent, they must acknowledge that such a vapid woman was to now be permanently amongst them.

  With a heavy sigh, and a look of pity for the ladies, Mr. Knightley accompanied his brother back to the study, and Rebecca and Emma enjoyed the privacy to converse more intimately. That Highbury should exchange the amiable Frank Churchill for the vile Isabella Elton was immediately lamented at length, and though Emma would not confess it, Rebecca began to suppose that Emma was very much in love with Mr. Frank Churchill.

  21

  Rosings Park, Kent, late April

  Georgiana woke in a state of boundless excitement – the day of the theatrical was upon them at last! It seemed that all of Rosings had risen early, eager to break their fast and be about their business. Lady Catherine, Sir Gerald, and Harriet were there already, making their stage in the drawing room ready amidst the noisy chaos of so many other preparations. Only the party from Cranbrook was now wanted, and Mr. Crawford was looking out the window very frequently in the hope of perceiving their arrival.

  Mr. Willoughby, who was staying at Rosings rather than Cranbrook with the other gentlemen, greeted Georgiana eagerly, ready to begin their final rehearsal at once. Despite really wishing to do so, particularly before Lydia, who was yet abed, might begin demanding her share of Mr. Willoughby’s attentions, Georgiana could not resist Kate’s offer to be the first to be put in to her costume – she was fully aware of how very lovely she looked in it, and eager for Mr. Willoughby to behold her so beautifully attired.

  It was a fine ivory taffeta gown that had once belonged to Lady Catherine, perhaps twenty years ago or more, rather out of fashion but of very fine material, and had been made over to bear some resemblance to a Grecian toga, while still being within the bounds of decency, and the result was eminently flattering. Some gardenias that Harriet had gathered on her way from the dower house that morning were woven into Georgiana's hair to complete the ensemble, and the result sent Georgiana, Kate, and Harriet into a fit of gleeful girlish giggles.

  She returned to the drawing room, ready not only to rehearse with Mr. Willoughby, but to be seen by him – to receive all of the compliments his addresses had prepared her to expect; in short, she felt fully confident that the sight of her now must make him very much in love with her, if he was not already.

  Mr. Willoughby, too, had donned his costume, and the effect of it was most flattering. It was the first time Georgiana had seen him so informally attired, without his coat and waistcoat – he wore tan stockings and a loose white shirt under his toga, which had been arranged in such a way as Mr. Crawford informed them was indicative of a fine man of Athens. Mr. Crawford had also procured in Rochester a book with a great many pictures detailing ancient Greek life, so that their costumes might appear to best advantage. It was really just a large white linen bedsheet with some crimson ribbon sewn into the edges, and held in place with a gold brooch he had begged as a token from Georgiana, but she thought he looked very handsome in his costume, and grinned at the sight of him.

  “What a fine Athenian couple we make,” he observed as she entered the drawing room.

  “This is almost as much fun as a masquerade,” Georgiana giggled. Several of their companions were about, in various stages of being costumed themselves – Mrs. Crawford was making the final adjustments to her husband’s toga, and Harriet was attempting to disguise her impatience to be the next one dressed, though she stood by, holding her gossamer faerie wings with unmasked admiration.

  Despite the commotion around them, Mr. Willoughby’s attention was all for Georgiana. “Let us begin to rehearse, before the drawing room grows to be too much of a crush – is anybody occupying the music room at present?”

  “No, sir – Sir Gerald had been in there before, to practice his lines as Egeus, but I believe he must begin to help oversee the hanging of the stage curtain.”

  “Let us seek solitude there, Miss Darcy – once the party from Cranbrook has arrived, I am sure it will grow far too crowded in the drawing room to rehearse.” He took her by the hand and led her into the music room, and then they were quite alone. They stood in silence for a moment, soaking in the sight of one another in their costumes, and Georgiana really began to feel some little anxiety, though in an inexpressibly pleasant way.

  In all of their rehearsing, she had never been so alone with Mr. Willoughby – they had always either been with Lydia and Mr. Audley, or if rehearsing just the two of them, it was done in a room with others reading over their respective lines elsewhere. This was the first time they had pushed the bounds of propriety so far, and Georgiana felt a little rush of exhilaration, as if anything might happen.

  Mr. Willoughby seemed to feel it too – he looked rather flustered, as if just as nervous as she, and he stepped closer to her, taking her hand in his and raising it to his lips. “As ever, Miss Darcy, I must begin by apologizing for all that the script must oblige me to say to you – how it breaks my heart when Lysander disparages his fair Hermia – and yet I think you must know what high esteem I hold you in.”

  Georgiana stared up into his eyes, feeling not only all the tremors of excitement a young girl on the verge of falling in love might feel, but no little guilt as well – she had been obliged, when first she woke that morning, by her own sense of moral duty to fulfill her promise to M
ary, and write to Aunt Jennings with inquiries about what she might know of Mr. Willoughby.

  Was such a thing a form of betrayal? She had no expectation of finding any ill of him – she was quite certain that Mary had been mistaken, and her warnings all for naught – she began to feel she had wronged him in making such inquiries – certainly she would not wish him to engage in such an undertaking toward her, for in her case there may be a great deal to be discovered, that she would wish might not be.

  For a moment she thought he might kiss her – she desperately wished it, for the only man she had ever kissed had been Wickham, and she longed for the day when the touch of a man who truly loved her might make her forget all of Wickham’s falsehoods.

  He did not kiss her, but let his script fall to the floor as he covered her hands with both of his, and began to recite the lines of their first scene together. “How now, my love? Why is your cheek so pale? How chance the roses there do fade so fast?”

  Damn and blast! Georgiana’s heart sank just a little, though she knew she ought to rejoice in finding Mr. Willoughby to be such a man, who would not seek to take liberties with her. Determined not to look at her script, if he would not, she likewise let hers drop to the ground. “Belike for want of rain, which I could well beteem them from the tempest of my eyes.”

  He let go of her hands to cup her face in his palms. “Ay me! For aught that I could ever read, by tale or history, the course of true love never did run smooth.” He paused for a moment, and Georgiana began to wonder if Mr. Willoughby had forgotten the rest, when he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Forgive me, Miss Darcy – I shall not do such a thing on the stage, in the presence of your family, but every time I have rehearsed those words with you, I have wished to do so, and perhaps more.”

  Here Georgiana looked up at him, and as she met his eye, her hands instinctively went to his chest, her fingers burying themselves in the draping folds of his toga. “Perhaps more,” she repeated. Something charged passed between them – she knew he was going to kiss her in earnest now, and longed for it to happen at last – she closed her eyes, parted her lips....

  “La, Mr. Willoughby, what a sight you are!”

  Georgiana flinched and reflexively stepped backward, as Mr. Willoughby did the same, turning round to bid Lydia good morning. Henry Audley, who was actually holding hands with Lydia, gave Georgiana an apologetic shrug of his shoulders and said, “Act three, scene two?”

  ***

  Caroline paced the drawing room, script in hand, the gauzy material of her skirts swishing rather noisily. Of all the ladies in the play, her costume was to be the finest, for she was queen of the fairies. An old ball gown of deep emerald green had been made over, the sleeves cut off at the shoulder, and the whole thing draped with a great deal of sheer green netting, into which silk flowers had been sewn. With her red hair, which was worn down loose and had more flowers pinned into it, the effect was really quite fetching. She amused herself by imagining such a style to become the latest craze of the London ton – certainly there she should have the advantage over everyone.

  The performance was not for another four hours, but the Cranbrook party was expected every minute. Everyone at Rosings was remarking how they ought to have arrived already. Lady Catherine, Sir Gerald, and Harriet had arrived from the dower house, and Mr. Tilney had appeared shortly after, having briefly incurred Lady Catherine’s wrath for mentioning that he had invited Miss Barnes and the Eastons to come from the village to watch, as they were to have very little audience with so many players.

  Now only the party from Cranbrook was wanted to satisfy them all, and Caroline was not the least of them to be desirous of it. Having resolved that she should use the opportunity of the theatrical to indulge, very briefly in her attraction to Captain Wentworth, upon the completion of the play she was likewise determined that it should be fully past her, and she was eager indeed to get on with it.

  As the thing was not over quite yet, she was rather anxious for Captain Wentworth’s arrival, and the final hours of her happiness. Mr. Audley and Mr. Rushworth arrived first, on their own, with some mention of an unusual disturbance at Cranbrook. Caroline would not hear of it – she dismissed Lydia, who had been grating on her nerves all morning, to rehearse with Mr. Audley in the company of Georgiana and Mr. Willoughby, and took herself off to the library in a huff of exasperation.

  How strange it was, that all the principal players of their theatrical seemed rather affected by the same sort of fantastical love spell as the very characters they portrayed. Caroline certainly hoped that was all it was – a passing fancy. She had gotten more caught up in it all than she had ever intended to, and had really begun to enjoy rehearsing with Captain Wentworth, though they shared but two scenes together – he, too, seemed intent on making the most of the opportunity, and she could only repine that she was not at the same liberty as Lydia and Georgiana were, to make the most of it.

  Tomorrow, she knew, everything would return to normal, the spell that had fallen over them all would be lifted, and she could no longer indulge in the notion of fancying herself so very drawn to the handsome Captain Wentworth. But today….

  If only he would arrive already! She paced in the library, as she would not be able to sit down for any length of time without disturbing the flowers that adorned her costume. She really did wish him to see her so attired, before her appearance was in any way disturbed – before the fresh flowers in her hair wilted, or her skirts grew wrinkled. He had dared to remark on her beauty before, and though she had often been obliged to pretend not to hear him, this time she could not deny that she was looking forward to whatever reaction she might arouse in him. If it was to be her last day to relish whatever it was that existed between them, that could never be acknowledged, she meant to enjoy it to the fullest.

  A great commotion in the adjoining rooms indicated that the party from Cranbrook had arrived at last, and Caroline breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that she had begun to fear something might yet forestall the performance of their theatrical. And then another idea came to her mind – that she would not wish to seem too eager, nor did she desire to meet first with Captain Wentworth in the company of all her friends and relations. No – it must be as it ever had, him making the approach to her – she took a book from the shelf, reading she knew not what as she continued to pace the room, determined that she would not return to the drawing room, but wait for him to seek her out, and behold her resplendent beauty in perhaps the last bit of privacy they might ever enjoy.

  A quarter-hour passed before she was interrupted, and it was not Captain Wentworth who joined her in the library, but Cynthia Sutton, who made her presence known with a peal of derisive laughter. “My goodness! If your husband could but see you now!”

  “He might have done,” Caroline replied cautiously, “for he was certainly invited to attend us all here – I trust your father has told you of our theatrical scheme? How happy you should arrive in time to witness our performance.”

  Cynthia laughed again, a really malicious sound, and closed the door to the library, giving Caroline a deliberate look as she turned the lock. “Come now, Sister, you and I both know Seymour is in no condition to come to Cranbrook. I wager you would not wish for such a thing, anyhow.”

  Caroline’s stomach turned, and she tried to school her countenance, lest she betray any of the sudden terror she felt. “I am sure we all wish he would conclude his business in Scotland,” Caroline said evenly.

  “Is that so?” Cynthia moved toward her like a predator stalking its prey. “I did happen to look over the letter you dispatched to him a fortnight ago, when I occasioned to visit Dumfries myself last week.”

  No, no, no, no, no. This was it – Caroline could say nothing, but stand frozen, holding Cynthia’s gaze – she had been found out.

  “Oh dear,” Cynthia purred. “Have I rendered you speechless? That shall never do, as you are to give perhaps your finest performance yet, in just a few hours. I wonder if it w
ill be as convincing as the play-acting you have been doing here this last month with my family, playing the innocent, neglected wife, while my brother wasted away to nothing in a Scottish asylum.”

  “You went to Dumfries?”

  “It is but fifty miles from my brother-in-law’s estate in Bellingham – I actually wished to see my brother, unlike some. How astonished I was at his present condition! I daresay the rest of my family cannot possibly be aware of it, given everyone’s present good cheer. Certainly they would be grieved indeed to hear of it.”

  “I had thought to spare them that,” Caroline began, wringing her hands as she struggled to think of justification for herself.

  “I daresay you thought of yourself,” Cynthia said, smiling brightly. “Were it widely known that your husband has syphilis, surely everyone must presume the same of you. I suppose you do not have it – you appear in very good health – unlike my brother.”

  “He took a lover,” Caroline said. “I would not take him to my bed – you know I never had any affection for him, had scarcely ever made his acquaintance, when we were betrothed.”

  Cynthia laughed. “Oh yes, you wished to entrap the viscount that night – instead you caught only my brother. I might have pitied you then, though you would have little deserved it – I certainly cannot pity you now. You will, in time, become a wealthy widow, and shall be able to do just as you please, as you ever have. My brother, Caroline, will die in that wretched place you abandoned him to, and you dare come amongst my family, acting like you are one of us? They have actually been singing your praises to me, and you seem so well-pleased with your deception, but I cannot abide it!”

  Caroline grew exasperated with the woman who had once been her friend. “What would you have me do? Tell the world of your brother’s disgrace, sinking us both along with him?”