Copyright
Copyright © 2010 by C. Allyn Pierson
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Cover image Portrait of the Hon. Mrs. Caroline Norton, 1832 (oil on canvas), Hayter, Sir George (1792-1871) © Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth Settlement Trustees / The Bridgeman Art Library
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Originally published in 2008 as And This Our Life
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Table of Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Historical Notes on the Regency Era
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Back Cover
This book is dedicated to my mother, who loved to read.
Barbara Pierson
March 25, 1933–December 7, 2009
Prologue
Pemberley House
21 September, 1813
Miss Elizabeth Bennet
Longbourn, Hertfordshire
My dearest Sister-To-Be,—
I cannot even begin to tell you how delighted I am to know that you are making my brother the happiest of men! I look forwards with joy to the prospect of our relationship and trust that you will soon consider me a true sister and not merely a relation in law. All of the residents of Pemberley are completely distracted by their happiness, knowing that there will finally be a mistress to adorn and command Pemberley House; and Mrs. Reynolds has been extolling your beauty and grace to those who were not fortunate enough to see you when you visited all too briefly in the summer. I believe that she takes a great deal of credit for this happy event since it was she who spent so much time showing you and your aunt and uncle around that my brother arrived while you were still touring. I must make this note very short as I wish to send it off with one to my brother by return post, so I will put off further expressions of my delight until later, and merely sign myself,—
Your loving sister,
Georgiana Darcy
Chapter 1
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears.
—Thomas Gray, “The Bard, a Pindaric Ode”
Georgiana finished folding her letters and quickly sealed them before she had time to think about them further. Mrs. Annesley, her companion of just over a year, looked up from her book and smiled.
“Are you finished with your letters, Miss Darcy?” Her voice was soft and low, with just a hint of the music of Scotland, although Georgiana would never consider mentioning this linguistic idiosyncrasy to the woman she considered a friend as well as a paid companion. Mrs. Annesley was a native of Derbyshire but had spent a number of years in Edinburgh, where her husband held a minor position as a tutor at the great university there. She called those years “the Babylonian Exile” and felt that the cold, damp winters of Scotland had injured her husband’s health and hastened his early death. Not that she talked of these things. Mrs. Annesley would never discuss anything that she felt would cause melancholy thoughts in her charge, and Georgiana generally appreciated her reticence.
“Yes, I am done. I should like to post them before I think of a dozen pages of additional thoughts. If I do they will never reach my brother and his fiancée before the wedding, and I do not want Miss Elizabeth Bennet to think that I do not welcome her into the family.”
“I have always found that it is better to post my letters immediately, with the exception of comments which are angry—those it is better to hold until the next day and reread in the cold light of morning before posting.”
Georgiana gave her a wide smile. “Well, these hold only happy thoughts. Do you think we could post them yet today?”
The older woman glanced at the watch pinned on her bodice. “It is a pleasant day for a drive and it is only two o’clock; we should easily be able to drive into Lambton and post these and return in time for a cup of tea before changing for dinner. I also need another skein of silk for my embroidery—perhaps we could get that as well. Would you order the carriage, my dear?”
Georgiana flushed slightly and rang the bell. When Smithfield answered, she gravely said, “Please order the carriage, Smithfield. Mrs. Annesley and I are driving into Lambton.”
Smithfield bowed with all the solemnity of an archbishop and answered, “Yes, Miss Darcy. Would fifteen minutes be suitable?”
“Quite suitable, thank you, Smithfield.”
Georgiana slumped back in her chair with a sigh and a brief frown. “Another comportment hurdle crossed. We shall label this one ‘giving orders to servants.’” She sat up abruptly and grinned at her companion. “I know! Let us take Pilot with us. He enjoys a ride in the carriage.”
Mrs. Annesley winced briefly as she looked at the gigantic Newfoundland dog who had been the constant companion of Georgiana’s father and who was now lying calmly at his mistress’s side.
“How you can bear to be around that drooling monster, I do not know. As far as the orders to the servants, as you know ‘practise makes perfect.’”
“I just wish I could have practised more before Miss Bennet’s visit last summer. I did not exhibit stellar comportment on that occasion. The surprise of my brother’s introduction of a young lady of whom I had heard not a word beforehand and the gimlet eyes of Miss Bingley watching our second meeting the day after were too much for me to bear with equanimity. But Miss Bennet was lovely, was she not?”
“A very sweet-tempered and well-bred young lady, as well as very pretty. I am sure you will be good friends when you are better acquainted.”
“I cannot imagine why Miss Bingley brought Wickham’s name into the conversation on that occasion. That was the topic that completely destroyed my composure. You do not suppose she knows about my past indiscretion with Wickham, do you?”
“Well,” Mrs. Annesley paused to consider her words and then said, “I suspect that
Miss Bingley is jealous of Miss Bennet. After all, Miss Bingley would have been as aware as you were of the significance of your brother introducing you to the young lady.”
Georgiana gave her a sardonic smile and drawled, “Yeessss, I am quite sure she was.”
Smithfield entered and her smile faded, replaced by the austere courtesy which she had been taught to use when interacting with the servants.
“The carriage awaits, Miss Darcy.”
“Thank you, Smithfield.” She rose and called Pilot, and they left.
***
Two days later, Georgiana was practising a difficult Mozart sonata when she was interrupted by Smithfield, who announced, “Colonel Fitzwilliam, Miss Darcy.”
She jumped up and tipped several music books off the pianoforte in her haste. Her face flushed over her clumsiness, but she retained enough composure to bob a quick curtsey to her guardian and say, “Colonel! What are you doing here?”
The colonel, his blue eyes crinkling in amusement, answered, “What a lovely greeting from my little cousin. I could leave if you prefer.”
Georgiana could feel her blush deepen. What an idiot you are, Georgiana. Can you not behave with a modicum of poise even with your closest relations? She forced herself to smile graciously and say, “Of course I am delighted to see you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am, however, surprised to see you at this time of year. I would have expected you to be off with some of your fellow officers killing birds.”
“Your brother has interrupted my pursuit of grouse and eligible young ladies with his wedding plans. He sent me to bring you and Mrs. Annesley to Netherfield. Have you not received his letter?”
Her eyes sparkled at the news and she forgot her pretence of maturity. “Not yet. I sent him one asking to go only two days ago. I see my brother has anticipated me.” She suppressed her eagerness and added astringently, “Why did he not just send a servant? I would think a colonel would have better things to do than act as errand boy.”
“Undoubtedly, Miss Darcy. However I was already planning to visit Pemberley to check on my little cousin. I am such a responsible guardian. Now, if you will excuse me, I will run upstairs and change out of my dusty travel clothes.” He smiled at her and kissed her on the top of her head before heading for the staircase, patting Pilot as he went through the hall. Georgiana noted with a prick of annoyance how similar his attitude was towards her as the dog.
***
Later, while Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley were awaiting the colonel in the drawing-room before pouring tea, Georgiana crumbled a teacake idly until her companion noticed.
“Are you well, my dear? You do not seem yourself this afternoon.”
“Mmm. I am just… concerned.”
“About what?”
“I am nervous about meeting all the Bennets. I have been thinking about it most of the afternoon. What if they do not like me, or they think me an awkward boor?”
“My dear girl, you must relax and not worry so much over the opinions of others. You are a pretty girl who is both accomplished and intelligent. Why should they not like you? Miss Elizabeth is marrying your brother, after all, and what family could object to him? And it is my understanding that Miss Elizabeth has no dowry, so her marriage to your brother must be cause for both happiness and relief for her family; and you are his sister. They will most likely be exerting themselves to the utmost to impress you.”
A smile twitched involuntarily at Georgiana’s mouth at the picture Mrs. Annesley had conjured. “I suppose so.”
“Trust me, dear girl, it will be so. It was quite clear last summer that Miss Elizabeth is as gentle and well bred as anyone could want. She is not as sophisticated as the ladies of the haut monde, but that is not to be mourned in the least.”
“I wonder if Miss Elizabeth is as nervous about facing me as I am about seeing her once again.”
“It is quite possible.”
Georgiana grinned wryly to herself at the picture of the two of them, Miss Elizabeth and herself, sitting in silence for hours, flushed and embarrassed and unable to find a word to say. Of course it would not happen. Miss Elizabeth had already shown her mettle with Miss Bingley the previous summer. She would not be easily cowed.
***
The colonel soon joined them, and he conversed easily with Mrs. Annesley. Georgiana sat silently, her eyes moving back and forth between them as they spoke, but her mind was fixed upon the coming meeting with the Bennet family. Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a carriage on the sweep and, soon after, the sound of Smithfield greeting a visitor. They were not long left in suspense over the identity of their guest, as Smithfield immediately announced Mr. Jonathan Walker.
Georgiana blushed. Mr. Walker had been very kind and attentive during the past summer and she knew that she was the reason for his call. What ill luck that the colonel was here! Having her guardian watching the both of them while she tried to carry on a conversation with a gentleman was disconcerting, and she could not think what to say. Fortunately, Mr. Walker was as perfectly comfortable in the drawing-room at Pemberley as he was at The Yews, his father’s manor, and when his conversation with Georgiana died a quick death he talked to the colonel and Mrs. Annesley for thirty minutes then excused himself and left. As soon as their guest left the colonel commented, “How often does Mr. Walker visit, Georgiana?”
She reddened again but tried to be offhand in her answer. “Oh, I think about once a week, or so. I have not noticed particularly.” She turned to Mrs. Annesley. “Do you not think that is correct?”
“I believe so, my dear.”
“Mmm.” The colonel’s right brow was lifted in an expression she knew well.
“And why do you ask, Colonel?” She knew her voice sounded irritable.
“I am just wondering who this young man is. I do not recall meeting him before.”
Georgiana’s eyes glittered hotly. “For heaven’s sake, Colonel Fitzwilliam, his father is the squire of Lambton and they have been the squires of Lambton for the past three hundred years or more. He is a neighbour, and that is all.”
She put down her teacup and stood up. “If you will excuse me, sir, I am going upstairs,” she said coldly. “I have some French grammar to study.” She stalked to the door, closing it behind her with a too-careful click.
The colonel looked at Mrs. Annesley for a long moment, his eyes wide with astonishment, and then shook himself and blinked. “Well…” His voice faded and he tried again. “If you will excuse me Mrs. Annesley, I believe I will take a stroll down by the stream with Pilot before the light fades.”
“Of course, Colonel.” She paused and then added tentatively, “Colonel?”
He stopped halfway to the door and turned.
“Yes, Mrs. Annesley?”
“I apologise for Miss Darcy’s behaviour. She is very nervous about the upcoming Season and has been very… well… her spirits have been very unequal in the past few weeks. She is at a very difficult time in her life; ordinarily I have found her to be a most thoughtful, caring young woman.”
“Yes, so have I. She seems to have lost her sense of humour somewhere along the way between childhood and adulthood, however. She used to be able to laugh at herself.”
“Some days she is as merry as a lark, and others she is more like a hedgehog, all prickly spines. If you would like, I will have her apologise to you. She should not be speaking to her guardian in such a manner.”
“No, no. I do not want to give the incident more importance than it should have.” His voice faded as he glanced towards the staircase where Georgiana had disappeared.
“As you wish, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
He bowed and left the room, whistling for Pilot, and she heard Smithfield close the hall door behind him.
***
Georgiana came down for dinner, trying to behave as if nothing had happened, but the conversation
at the table was stilted. Colonel Fitzwilliam had a bland expression on his face and asked Georgiana very general questions about what she and Mrs. Annesley had been doing. As they rose from the table to have their coffee in the drawing-room, he said, “I hope you will play for me tonight, Georgiana.”
She bowed her head in acquiescence and played the pianoforte for almost an hour before excusing herself and going upstairs.
That night, as she lounged on her bed—using Pilot (illegally smuggled up to her room) as a backrest—Georgiana read through some of the earlier pages of her diary before writing the day’s events.
23 July: Mr. Walker called again today. He is very easy to talk to and has many amusing stories about London society, but he is also a student of history and we had a most interesting discussion about the political situation in France. He thinks Napoleon is losing control of France and that it will not be long before the Coalition forces overcome his army unless the Emperor is able to find new sources of both men and arms. He asked me to ride with him sometime soon. I had better practise my riding—poor Ginger has been sadly neglected of late, so I hope she does not take her revenge by throwing me in the mud in front of Mr. Walker!
She flipped a few pages.
12 August: Mr. Walker has been out of town on business, but he is now returned. He invited me to ride this afternoon but Mrs. Annesley said that it would not be proper, even if a groom went with us. Until I make my debut I must continue to be a child. It is quite irritating, and I think she is being over scrupulous, but I have already made one terrible mistake making my own decisions about propriety, so I will not argue with her about her decision!
She turned to the current day and wrote the following:
23 September: What a ghastly day! I was horrid to the dear colonel, but I am so tired of being watched and analysed! If only the colonel would realise that I am not six years old anymore, it would be easier for me. Patting me on the head and calling me “Little Cousin!” I am surprised that he did not look for plaits that he could pull to tease me as if I were a raw schoolgirl. It is beyond annoying. However, we are leaving in the morning for Netherfield and I will meet the Bennet family, so I cannot stay mad at my cousin—I have too many other things to think (and worry) about!
Mr. Darcy's Little Sister Page 1
