by C. P. Odom
Mrs. Gardiner was quick to notice this indifference—indeed antipathy—for the gentleman when Elizabeth first introduced him, and she had to wonder at it since she would have expected her niece to show more interest in such an amiable and gentlemanly young man. It was just one more piece to be added to the others she tried to fit into the puzzle of Elizabeth’s new and altered character.
Elizabeth had been loath to make the introduction, but she knew Wickham had been raised in the same part of Derbyshire where her aunt had spent some dozen years before her marriage. The two of them had, therefore, a number of acquaintances in common. Though Wickham had not lived there since the death of Darcy’s father some five years previously, he could provide her aunt with fresher knowledge of her former friends.
Mrs. Gardiner had seen parts of the great estate of Pemberley in passing and had known the previous owner, the late Mr. Darcy, by reputation. Here, consequently, was an inexhaustible subject of discourse for the two of them since her aunt could compare her recollection of Pemberley with the more detailed descriptions Wickham could offer. Since Wickham had been the favorite of the previous owner, she could please him, in turn, by her praise of his benefactor, delighting them both.
Elizabeth was less than pleased, of course, when Wickham made her aunt acquainted with the ill-treatment he had received from the present Mr. Darcy. She had expected it of him, but there was really nothing she could say since she knew she could not argue Wickham’s points without the danger of revealing something of her own suppressed emotions.
For her part, Mrs. Gardiner could remember little of the reputation of the present Mr. Darcy when he was a mere lad, though she admitted she had heard him spoken of as a proud, ill-natured boy.
***
On the following day, Mrs. Gardiner took the opportunity to broach the subject of Elizabeth returning to London with her family when they departed Longbourn. The two of them had been walking in the Longbourn garden, and Mrs. Gardiner chose her words carefully.
“On the first day I arrived, I could not help noticing you were not in your usual good humor.”
Elizabeth glanced aside at her and made no reply. But she also made no denials, so Mrs. Gardiner continued.
“I did not attempt to query you since I know you value your privacy. But I did speak with your sister, and Jane informed me you would prefer not to be present when she is married.”
Elizabeth simply nodded in acknowledgement, but she clasped her arms about herself, an indication of her discomfort as her aunt continued.
“So Jane and I thought you might agree to return to London with your uncle and me and remain there until after the wedding.”
It was several moments before Elizabeth spoke, and then she simply said, “I think it a very good idea, Aunt Gardiner.”
After walking on a bit further, Mrs. Gardiner said gently, “Are you sure there is nothing you wish to discuss with me, Lizzy? You know you can rely on my discretion.”
Mrs. Gardiner caught a glimpse of Elizabeth’s eyes as she shook her head almost desperately, and she thought she could see fear in them.
“I cannot, Aunt, I…” Elizabeth said tightly, her voice trailing off.
“But you did speak with Jane,” Mrs. Gardiner said softly. “You confided in her at least.”
Mrs. Gardiner put her arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “I am not going to enquire further, Lizzy, but I am glad you unburdened yourself to her. It is not good to keep such matters to yourself. We all need a little help sometimes, and you could not pick a better confidante than Jane.”
Thus, on the day before the beginning of the New Year, the Gardiners returned to London, taking Elizabeth with them though Mrs. Bennet waxed eloquent in her vituperative complaints on the thoughtlessness of her least favorite daughter. Her father said nothing at the time, having previously met with no success when he enquired about her departure. He knew neither she nor Jane was telling him everything, but it was not in his nature to be overly inquisitive, so he kept his silence.
Mrs. Bennet was even more upset when Jane asked Charlotte Lucas to stand up with her since she was Elizabeth’s most intimate friend. In fact, her mother demanded Jane change her mind and give the honor to one of her younger sisters. To this, Jane demurred since Elizabeth had carefully coached her before leaving that such a choice belonged to her and her alone. She would soon be leaving Longbourn forever, and it was time she started behaving as she would need to when she was in charge of her own establishment and had to make her own decisions.
So the atmosphere at Longbourn was fraught with hurt feelings until the incipient arrival of Mr. Collins forced her mother to attend to the wedding preparations of her two daughters.
***
Mr. Collins arrived at Longbourn a few days after the departure of the Gardiner party, and a week later Mary Bennet made him the happiest of men. The following week saw the ceremony solemnizing the nuptials of Jane and Bingley and their departure to Netherfield, leaving Mrs. Bennet more than a little dazed and discomfited by the near desertion of Longbourn with only two of her daughters in occasional attendance when they were not walking to Meryton in search of officers. It was only when the weather prevented such excursions that she had any company whatever.
Mr. Bennet, of course, was overjoyed at having his tranquility so seldom violated since not even his wife dared to interrupt him after being summarily commanded to desist.
***
Two days after Jane’s departure to Netherfield Park brought the return of Elizabeth to Longbourn. She resolutely ignored the remonstrations of her mother over her abandonment of her sister and simply climbed the stairs to her room and closed the door.
With the momentous events of concern to the Longbourn family finished, the early months of the year passed away, sometimes dreary and sometimes cold, with only the walks to Meryton to give diversion to the younger Bennet sisters. On rare occasions, Elizabeth accompanied Lydia and Kitty, but she always returned to Longbourn in a worse humor than when she left.
She was hard-pressed to ramble through the countryside on many days due to the rains and occasional snows. But when she found good weather, she tried to engage herself in long and challenging walks.
All this time, Elizabeth had only one thing to look forward to with any pleasure: the invitation she had received in a letter from her aunt to accompany the Gardiners on a tour to the north during the summer.
Chapter 19
We are all born ignorant, but one must work hard to remain stupid.
— Benjamin Franklin, American
statesman, scientist, philosopher,
printer, writer, and inventor
Monday, March 23, 1812
Darcy Townhouse, London
“Are you certain you will not change your mind, McDunn?” Darcy asked as he and Fitzwilliam prepared to leave for their yearly visit to their aunt.
“No, I think it best to remain here, Darcy. If you remember, your aunt and I didn’t get along all that well last year. She thought I was too young to be a major and wasn’t a true gentleman, neither of which really bothered me since I have heard as much previously. But she also wanted you to dismiss me to the stables with the hired help, which did disturb me. I’ve gotten used to sleeping in your comfortable beds.”
“Well, yes, I remember. Lady Catherine can be a trifle caustic at times.”
“At times, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam said with a snort. “Only at times?”
“But I had hoped to repair the bad memories from last year’s visit,” Darcy said, ignoring his cousin. “Lady Catherine and my mother were very dear to each other, and she is the closest relative I have, so I would have liked to see the two of you achieve a more polite accommodation.”
“Perhaps at a later time,” McDunn said, his face showing nothing. “Your sister and I have a lot of work to do. Getting the tracks laid at the
Wylam Colliery for our demonstration also needs my attention. One of the local merchants has provided a ready supply of ties for the rails that are marvelously consistent in their dimensions, but we’re not having the same luck with the rails themselves.”
“I know, I know,” Darcy said with a sigh. “When you and I discussed your plans, this part of it seemed so simple compared to the difficulty of getting the locomotive built.”
“That surprised me too, which was an oversight on my part. In engineering school, I was taught that this part of the production process is especially susceptible to Murphy’s law: That which can go wrong—”
“—will go wrong!” Fitzwilliam finished. “As it is in battle, you have a plan and then you have to improvise desperately while the air is filled with shot and shell!”
“Nevertheless, your points are valid,” Darcy said, “so we shall be on our way. I have told Mrs. Sturdivant to make sure Georgiana maintains her pianoforte practice as well as her lessons, though she would much prefer to be assisting you.”
“Despite how helpful your sister can be, Mrs. Sturdivant and I will make sure she doesn’t neglect her studies.”
“Then we shall see you in about a week. Come, Richard. We had best get on the road.”
***
Monday, March 23, 1812
Rosings, Kent
Lady Catherine’s elderly butler reentered the room and announced in a squeaky and unpleasant voice, “Her ladyship will see you now.”
He led the two gentlemen to a room where three women awaited them. Darcy had to repress a smile at the scene, which had clearly been staged to resemble a throne room.
His aunt, Lady Catherine De Bourgh, was a tall, large woman, and she rose to greet her nephews. She had strongly marked features and appeared to have once been handsome, but age and added weight had adversely affected her appearance.
“There you are!” the formidable woman said, in a strong voice that filled the room. “I expected you an hour ago!”
“We were delayed by muddy roads, your ladyship,” Darcy said gravely, bowing over his aunt’s hand.
“My father sends his felicitations, Aunt,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. He was dressed in formal attire rather than the uniform he preferred, and his greeting mirrored Darcy’s.
“You, of course, already know my daughter’s companion, Mrs. Jenkinson.”
“Of course, your ladyship,” chorused both men as they bowed to both Miss de Bourgh and her companion. Lady Catherine’s attention now moved from Darcy to her other nephew.
“Fitzwilliam!” she said sharply. “What is the hair on your face?”
“It is a beard, your ladyship.”
“It is most ungentlemanly. You should remove it immediately!”
“Beards are very fashionable in the Peninsula Army, Aunt. Many of Wellesley’s officers have grown them.”
“I remember the man you brought with you last year, Darcy. He had a most disreputable moustache, which is not unexpected, considering his antecedents. I am pleased you had the good sense not to bring him with you.”
“McDunn was an officer in the American Corps of Marines,” Fitzwilliam said before his cousin could say anything, “and is a most honorable gentleman. Beards were frowned on in his corps, but moustaches were quite popular.”
“What is the world coming to? First, allowing such a common fellow to become a major, especially with his moustache and with all his hair cut off, and now you with your beard, Fitzwilliam. Those whiskers are entirely disreputable.”
“In Major McDunn’s military, they keep their hair very short for the sake of cleanliness in the field,” Fitzwilliam said loyally, ignoring his aunt’s comment about his beard. Darcy, meanwhile, struggled to keep a straight face on witnessing his aunt’s oft-displayed disapproval.
“My word, you seem to have learned impertinence since your last visit, Fitzwilliam,” Lady Catherine said grumpily before continuing. “You both will undoubtedly wish to refresh yourselves before dinner. I have invited my parson, Mr. Collins, to have tea with us after dinner along with his most charming wife. She is marvelously accomplished at the pianoforte, and I am sure you will be quite entertained.”
***
Despite having been invited to come in the evening rather than to dine, Mr. Collins was in an enervated state of excitement as he and his wife joined the rest of the party in Lady Catherine’s drawing room. They were received civilly, as usual, though Mr. Collins had insufficient discernment to realize his patroness did so with no great enthusiasm, only desiring their company when she could get no one else. Their reception by Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam was considerably warmer. Even if Darcy had no particular liking for Mr. Collins, he was far too refined to show it, but he was greatly surprised to discover he already knew the man’s wife. Or, at least, he thought he did.
He was almost certain she was one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sisters, the one who played music at Lucas Lodge. He had been introduced to her casually in Meryton, but his memory of her was not clear.
He resolved to assuage his curiosity before the evening was over. The warmth of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s reception was due to his relief at having anyone at all at his aunt’s previously untenanted parsonage since anything out of the ordinary was a welcome relief while visiting at Rosings. When his aunt turned her head to say something to her daughter, obviously trying to bring her into the conversation with Darcy, Fitzwilliam took the opportunity to sit beside Mrs. Collins.
His knowledge on a wide variety of topics was enough to finally draw Mrs. Collins from her natural shyness, and their conversation was soon agreeable and lively enough to draw the attention of Lady Catherine.
“What is it you are saying, Fitzwilliam?” she said, her voice loud and carrying. “What is it you are speaking of with Mrs. Collins? Let me hear what it is.”
Darcy saw that Fitzwilliam was not at all pleased to be interrupted in such a peremptory manner, but his cousin was unable to avoid a reply.
“We are speaking of music, madam,” he said with tolerable control.
“Of music! Then pray speak aloud! It is of all subjects my delight. I must have my share in the conversation if you are speaking of music. There are few people in England, I suppose, who have more true enjoyment of music than myself, or a better natural taste. If I had ever learnt, I should have been a great proficient. And so would Anne if her health had allowed her to apply. I am confident she would have performed delightfully. How does dear Georgiana get on with her music, Darcy?”
Darcy was able to conceal his annoyance with even better skill than his cousin, and moreover, he was always prepared to speak of his sister with affectionate praise.
“She is doing quite well with her pianoforte and her other studies, your ladyship.”
“I am very glad to hear it. But what are these other studies you mention, Darcy? A young lady does not need to be educated as a gentleman might. Such is not her place in life. You must focus her effort where it is most needed and ensure she practices her music most diligently and faithfully.”
“I assure you, madam, she does not need such advice,” Darcy replied tightly, less able to disguise his exasperation this time. “She practices her music very constantly, but both Fitzwilliam and I think she should know more of the world than just the affairs of the drawing room.”
“I cannot agree,” his aunt said in reply, oblivious to the flush mounting her nephew’s cheeks. “She cannot practice her music too much. You must include her practice schedule when next you write, and I shall examine it carefully to ensure she is not neglecting her instrument. I often tell young ladies that no excellence in music is to be acquired without constant practice, and I have encouraged Mrs. Collins, as well as she plays, to feel free to come to Rosings and play on the pianoforte in Mrs. Jenkinson’s room. She has been quite attentive to my advice, and she is not in a
nybody’s way in that part of the house.”
Darcy’s flush was now accentuated by a pair of red spots over his cheekbones since he was both infuriated and ashamed of his aunt’s ill breeding. He made no answer to her commands though he was resolved to ignore them, and he endured his aunt’s conversation until tea was over.
As soon as Lady Catherine rang to have the tea service removed, she entreated Mrs. Collins to play for them. Mary was never hesitant about exhibiting her talents even if they were not as capital as she imagined them to be. Fitzwilliam was quick to add his encouragement and escorted her to the instrument.
Fitzwilliam drew up a chair beside the splendid pianoforte, and Darcy moved to join them.
While Mrs. Collins shuffled through the available music sheets, Darcy said, somewhat diffidently, “I am sorry to display the defects of my memory, Mrs. Collins, but am I correct in my conjecture that we have already been introduced?”
Mary nodded happily. “You are indeed correct, sir. I am one of five daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet of Longbourn.”
“Ah, then my memory did not mislead me. I do hope your family is doing well and all are in good health.”
“Indeed, sir, they are,” Mary said, greatly pleased at such a polite response. “My parents are most hale and fit, and my eldest sister, Mrs. Bingley, wrote just this week at how delighted she is to settle at Netherfield with her husband.”
“And what of your other sisters—if I might enquire?”
“Of my two youngest I know little since they do not often write,” Mary admitted somewhat uncomfortably, “but my sister Elizabeth says they are healthy enough, though I am somewhat worried about her own well-being.”
Darcy was a bit taken aback by this casual comment, and he quickly asked, “Is Miss Elizabeth ill, do you know?”
