Elizabeth put on the gloves, smoothing them over her elbows, and then picked up her fan.
She was ready.
She went along the corridor and went into Jane’s room. She found her sister already dressed, wearing a very becoming silk gown. It had a high waist and short, puffed sleeves trimmed with white ribbon. Her hair was dressed in a bun, which was pulled back from her face and softened by ringlets across her forehead. Like Elizabeth, she wore long white evening gloves and she held her fan. She looked very beautiful, but although she was standing in front of the cheval glass, she was not looking at herself. Instead, her eyes were focussed on some distant point.
‘Are you rested now after the journey?’ asked Elizabeth.
Jane had never been as robust as Elizabeth.
‘Yes,’ said Jane, giving her attention to Elizabeth. ‘Did you enjoy your tour of Pemberley?’
‘Yes, or at least the little I saw of it. It will take a lot longer to see everything, but it is a very fine house.’
‘Yes, it is,’ said Jane.
No stranger would have detected anything unusual in Jane’s voice, but Elizabeth knew her sister well and said, ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ said Jane. ‘It is just that Pemberley is far grander than I was imagining.’
‘But you knew it was a great house?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘Yes, I did, but I imagined something more like Netherfield Park – something larger than Longbourn, but nothing like this.’ She looked around the room, which was even grander than Elizabeth’s. ‘This is more like a palace. However, I am sure I will accustom myself to it by and by.’
‘You will,’ said Elizabeth with a smile. ‘Before very long, you will love it as much as I do. It is a beautiful house. The dining-parlour, the sitting room, the gardens . . . everything is exactly as one would wish it.’
‘I only hope . . . ’
‘Yes?’ said Elizabeth.
‘I only hope I will do it justice,’ said Jane. ‘Mr Darcy requires a hostess and I hope I will not disappoint him.’
‘My dear Jane, you could never disappoint anyone,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Mr Darcy is very lucky to have you. You grace Pemberley with your presence.’
‘Oh, Lizzy!’ said Jane with a smile.
‘It is true,’ said Elizabeth. ‘You will soon accustom yourself to the grandeur and then you will find yourself looking forward to your new life here, without any feelings of being overwhelmed.’
‘You are right, dear Lizzy. What would I do without you?’
‘You will not have to do without me.’
‘No, and for that I am grateful. It is a comfort to me because there will be a lot to organise once I am the wife of Mr Darcy.’
Elizabeth realised that Jane was intimidated by the thought of taking up such a prestigious position. She wished she could give some of her own energy and confidence to Jane, because she was not intimidated by it. In fact, she thought the public life of Mrs Darcy would be very interesting and agreeable.
‘You will not have to do anything you don’t want to do,’ she reminded Jane. ‘Remember, there are plenty of servants at Pemberley. You can leave the running of it to the housekeeper if you wish.’
‘I feel I would be neglecting my duty if I did so,’ said Jane.
‘You will be the mistress of Pemberley. It will be up to you to decide what your duties are, not up to the housekeeper,’ said Elizabeth.
Jane smiled, but the smile was somewhat apprehensive.
‘You have not told me everything,’ said Elizabeth, fixing Jane with a searching eye. ‘There is no use denying it, I can tell. Something else is worrying you.’
‘It is nothing,’ said Jane, looking down at her hands.
‘Then, if it is nothing, you will not mind telling me!’ Elizabeth teased her.
Jane gave a genuine smile.
‘Oh, Lizzy, I am so glad you are here with me! I am only being foolish, I know, but I went to speak to my aunt a little while ago, and when I came back to my room, the maids were unpacking my bags and I overheard them talking. One of them held up my petticoat and said, “It’s mended.” There was such a tone of horror in her voice that I felt as if I had let her down, and let Mr Darcy down, and let Pemberley down. I felt like a beggar, as if I didn’t belong here. I felt like an intruder.’
‘Oh, Jane,’ said Elizabeth, giving her a hug. ‘You cannot let the servants worry you. Besides, mended petticoats will be a thing of the past when you marry Mr Darcy. You will have the finest clothes that money can buy.’
‘You are right, of course,’ said Jane, returning her hug. ‘I am just feeling overwhelmed at the moment. But I will soon get used to everything.’
‘You will,’ said Elizabeth reassuringly.
Together the two young ladies went downstairs.
To Elizabeth’s surprise, there was a newcomer in the drawing-room, where the party assembled. Mr Darcy introduced him as, ‘My cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.’
Colonel Fitzwilliam bowed and the ladies curtseyed.
‘And this is the Rev Mr Wilson,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘He has one of the Pemberley livings.’
Elizabeth was surprised. One of the Pemberley livings. An estate needed to be large to have any church livings in its gift, yet Mr Darcy had more than one. She began to realise that there must be many calls on his time indeed, for he not only had to deal with all the other estate business, but he had to appoint suitable clergymen as well.
The gentlemen offered the ladies their arms and together they went in to dinner.
Elizabeth found herself seated with Colonel Fitzwilliam on her left and Mr Wilson on her right. She began by talking to Mr Wilson and, to her surprise, the conversation naturally turned to a topic of great interest to her. She was pleased that she would not have to ask the housekeeper about the steward’s son, for Mr Wilson’s conversation turned in that direction. When talking about his living, he said that he was indebted to Mr Darcy for nominating him as a suitable candidate, and that because of Mr Darcy’s kindness – kindness again, thought Elizabeth - he was now able to follow his calling of preaching and caring for the souls of his parishioners, while at the same time earning a good income from the valuable living.
‘I had no idea Mr Darcy would nominate me,’ he said. ‘We all thought the living would go to . . . ’ He lowered his voice. ‘ . . . a friend of the family.’
Elizabeth looked at him enquiringly.
‘His name is never spoken of in this house but he was the son of the late Mr Darcy’s steward. The late Mr Darcy gave him every advantage, paying for him to go to school and university because he intended him to make a career in the church. The wealthiest living on the estate was held for him until he should be old enough for it. But then . . . ’
He stopped, as if realising he had been indiscreet.
‘But then, the young man was found to be unsuitable?’ asked Elizabeth.
It was a guess, but a reasonable one, and Mr Wilson’s brief nod told her that she had guessed correctly.
‘I am afraid to say that he turned out very wild, drinking heavily and consorting with the wrong kind of people,’ he said. ‘And so Mr Darcy nominated me instead.’
Elizabeth looked at Mr Darcy, who was engaged in conversation with her aunt.
She could not make up her mind whether she approved of his actions or not. He had not given the living to one of his family’s favourites, as many wealthy men would have done, regardless of their suitability for the role, which was something she admired. But, on the other hand, he had not given the steward’s son a chance to grow out of his youthful follies and reform, which was something that troubled her.
The soup was removed and the baked turbot was brought in. Conversation became more sparse for a while but when the fish had been eaten then conversation resumed.
Elizabeth now found herself speaking to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had many interesting stories to tell about his time in the army, and he confirmed Mr Wilson’s information
.
‘Is he really so bad? Has he done anything that puts him entirely beyond all hope of reform?’ asked Elizabeth.
‘Perhaps not,’ Colonel Fitzwilliam admitted. ‘But Darcy expects a great deal from himself and consequently expects a great deal from others.’
‘That is a fault in his character indeed,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Yes, I believe it is, but he we all have faults. And perhaps, as faults go, it is not such a terrible one.’
As to that, Elizabeth was not sure. But she was beginning to see, more and more, why Mr Darcy had proposed to Jane, for Jane was one of the few people in the world who would never lose his good opinion. Jane’s sweet nature was incapable of making an enemy, and she would never disappoint him.
But, as for the rest of the family, Elizabeth thought he would be a difficult man to have as a brother-in-law. She wondered if it would be such a good idea for them all to live at Pemberley, after all.
Lydia, Kitty and Mary would find it difficult to live up to his high standards. And so, thought Elizabeth, would she. Mr Darcy wanted an obedient sister-in-law who would behave as he wished – she remembered him opening the door for her and standing aside, expecting her to walk through it .But her own natural impulse had been to thwart him, and it always would be.
Perhaps she and the other girls should go to live with their aunts after Jane’s marriage. To be sure, there would be a crush if they all went to aunt Philips, or all to aunt Gardiner, but if two went to each then perhaps it would be possible. With their small inheritance they would be able to pay for their keep – a necessity as none of their relations were very rich – and they would be able to make themselves useful.
Elizabeth felt a pang at the thought of never – or, at least, only rarely – seeing Pemberley again, but it would be better to forego the pleasures of the estate and not be expected to give in to the whims of its master.
Elizabeth had a strong spirit and an independent nature, and she had no intention of letting any man – least of all the proud and superior Mr Darcy – tell her what to do.
Chapter Six
There were no large parties held at Pemberley; no balls or picnics or other public events to celebrate Mr Darcy’s betrothal. It was not yet a year since Mr and Mrs Bennet had been killed and Mr Darcy had agreed with Mr Gardiner that no formal announcement should be made until the year of mourning was complete.
But although there were no large parties, there were plenty of pleasurable activities.
Mr Darcy was as good as his word and arranged for a phaeton to take Jane around the park. He offered to teach Jane to drive it, but Jane declined, saying she did not feel equal to handling the horses. Mr Darcy said, in that case, he would order the coachmen to drive her whenever she wished. And so Jane often went out in the phaeton, sometimes with Mrs Gardiner and sometimes with Elizabeth.
Mr Darcy spent much of his time seeing to business, but when he was with the ladies he was always polite and respectful, if rather arrogant. He was a man who liked his own way, and Elizabeth could not help thinking that what he needed was a wife who would stand up to him, instead of a wife who would defer to him. But she did not trouble herself with it overmuch, for Jane seemed happy and that was all that really mattered to her.
Then came a day of rain, when it was impossible to go out of doors. Jane and Mrs Gardiner busied themselves with sewing in the drawing-room, but Elizabeth was too energetic to sit still for long and she declared her intention of asking the housekeeper to show her round the rest of the house. She had been so busy out of doors in the fine weather that she had not yet completed her tour of the inside.
She went upstairs to fetch her shawl, for the day was cool, and on her way back along the landing she met Mr Darcy.
On saying that she intended to continue her tour, he surprised her by offering to be her guide and, unable to think of a reason why he should not show her round the remainder of the house, she accepted.
They were at that moment near the portrait gallery and so they went in. Elizabeth had noticed it often, and had always meant to examine the portraits, but her time had been full. Now, however, she meant to take her time and study the portraits.
The gallery was a long room of elegant proportions, with tall windows down one side of it. On the opposite wall, the paintings were arranged in historical order, with portraits of the Darcy family going back for hundreds of years. There were Darcy gentlemen in the dark suits and white ruffs of the Elizabethan age, and Darcys in the flamboyant silks and satins of the Stuart age, leading right up to portraits painted very recently.
Elizabeth stopped before the portrait of a man in regimentals, which she recognized as Colonel Fitzwilliam. Next to it was a portrait of a family group, with Colonel Fitzwilliam as a young man.
‘Is this your cousin’s family?’ asked Elizabeth, stopping in front of the portrait.
‘Yes, it is. My uncle, The Earl of Harking; his wife, the Countess; and my six cousins.’
Elizabeth looked at them with interest. They were very fine people in sumptuous clothes and although they were not as handsome as the Darcys, there was a family resemblance
‘So these will be Jane’s relatives,’ said Elizabeth.
‘Yes, they will. Once we are married, Jane and I will go and visit them.’
They passed on to the next portrait. It was of another family grouping, with a mother and father looking proudly at their children. The son was unmistakeably Mr Darcy, but how different he looked, not just because he was younger but because of his expression. Instead of the cold mask she was used to seeing, he looked relaxed and happy. The difference was so enormous that she looked from the portrait to the real man in the flesh and could hardly believe the difference.
What had occasioned such a change?
The answer came swiftly. He had lost his parents.
Jane had told her that Mr Darcy had lost his father some five years previously, and his mother before that. It had formed an early bond between Jane and Mr Darcy, for he understood how it felt to lose both parents.
Elizabeth felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat as memories of her own parents came back to her. She had loved them dearly, despite their faults, and their death had left a huge hole in her life. For a time, she had lost her natural playfulness and she had been bowed down by grief. She had not laughed or teased; she had stayed indoors and she had felt tired and heavy. It was only gradually, and with the help of her friends and remaining family, that she had recovered some of her spirits.
They had still not returned completely, for since then she had had many responsibilities, helping Jane to look after Longbourn and their sisters. But Mr Darcy’s burden had been much heavier. He had had to assume the mantle of the master of Pemberley, with many people depending on him. No wonder he lacked lightness. He had to be strong in order to carry the burdens that life had given him to carry. And in becoming strong he had lost the happy, carefree young man he had once been.
Elizabeth felt a growing respect for him. There were many advantages to being Mr Darcy of Pemberley, but there were responsibilities, too, and he had not shirked them as many young men might have done. He had not gone wild. He had instead accepted his duty, and if the price of that was a serious personality, then he accepted that, too.
But it did not need to be that way.
Elizabeth saw now that the man before her had another side to him and she longed to reclaim it. He looked so happy in the portrait that she could not bear to think of all that happiness being lost. She felt an urge to reawaken that side of his nature and to pass some of her own liveliness on to him.
But how to do it? That was the question. When she challenged him or refused to fall in with his wishes, he did not react with humour, he looked at her with haughty disdain. And yet there must be a way to do it, even if it meant teasing him at every available opportunity until she finally brought a smile to his face.
They moved on, and Mr Darcy told her about the other portraits until they reached the e
nd of the gallery.
From there, Mr Darcy led her into the music room. There was a piano at the far side of the room and Elizabeth was drawn to it like a magnet. She had not played since leaving Longbourn. There had always been so much to do that she had not found the time, but now she was tempted to sit down at the fine instrument and run her fingers over the keys. She longed to hear how it would sound. Far better than the small and rather cracked pianoforte at Longbourn!
‘You are welcome to play it whenever you wish. Do you play?’
She nodded, running her hand lightly over the rosewood casing and thinking how beautiful it was.
‘A little,’ she said.
‘It is an old piano and I am thinking of buying a new one for my sister, but perhaps you will be good enough to overlook its deficiencies,’ he said. ‘Will you play something for me now?
She was surprised by his request and suddenly felt self-conscious, for he must be used to hearing the best musicians. But her longing to play overcame her self-consciousness, so she sat down at the instrument and played one of her favourite songs.
So engrossed was she in her music that she did not look up. But if she had, she would have seen an unusual look of longing in his eyes. She would also have seen a soft smile about his lips. She would have noticed his gaze lingering on her, wandering over her dark, lustrous hair before moving on to the pearl earrings in her dainty ears.
At last the song came to an end. She had enjoyed it immensely, but she was suddenly embarrassed because she knew she did not play very well. She had a good touch and a natural talent, but she did not practice enough to be a proficient. She played wrong notes sometimes and her fingering was awkward, resulting in a lack of flow to the tune.
Mr Darcy did not speak but his expression told her he had enjoyed her performance, despite its faults. Without her intending it, her music had brought something of his former happiness to his face. She saw a softer set to his shoulders and his while posture spoke of relaxation, as though all the stress and tension had gone out of him.
From challenging him to teasing him to relaxing him, Elizabeth had instinctively changed her way of dealing with him as the occasion demanded. He was a complex man, and Elizabeth had risen to the challenge of his complexity without even thinking about it. In doing so, she had brought herself closer to him.
Darcy and Elizabeth What If? Collection 1 Page 24
