Mr. Darcy's Little Sister

by C. Allyn Pierson

  They eventually returned to the entry hall and ascended the main staircase, a large, gracefully curved sweep of white marble, to reach the family quarters on the first floor. In addition to the master suite, which consisted of a corner sitting-room with one bedroom and dressing-room along each side of the northwest corner of the house, there were twenty bedrooms on this floor. Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley had rooms on the opposite front corner, all of them facing the tree-covered ridge that filled the view from the east side of the manor.

  The other sixteen rooms on the first floor were furnished as guest rooms, providing plenty of space for large parties. All of the rooms were elegantly appointed, although the furniture in the less-used bedrooms at the back of the house was covered with dust cloths, giving it a ghostly appearance that was at odds with the morning sunlight streaming around the edges of the draperies. As they toured the bedrooms they passed several housemaids who curtseyed to them before continuing their morning work, peeking at them from the corners of their eyes as they did so.

  The second floor held the servants’ quarters—small, simple, but comfortable rooms—and the nursery and schoolroom, as well as quarters for a governess, which were all empty now. Elizabeth seemed interested to see the schoolroom where generations of Darcys had learnt their lessons and they lingered there for a few minutes. There were well-worn schoolbooks neatly arranged on the bookshelves and appearing rather forlorn. She pulled out a tattered copy of Gulliver’s Travels.

  “This was one of my favourite books when I was young. Of course, I thought that Lilliput and Brobdingnag and all of the other countries in the book were real places.”

  “I did too. I actually enjoyed it more before I understood that it is a satire.”

  “So did I.”

  They smiled at each other rather shamefacedly and Elizabeth moved on to a lone drawing that was hanging forsaken upon the wall, signed by Georgiana in a childish hand.

  “I drew that when I was seven,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “It is quite good for a seven-year-old, but I am sure that you can do better now.” Elizabeth gave her a gentle smile. “Do you have a portfolio of your drawings?”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “You must show me them sometime, Georgiana.”

  She blushed and nodded. “If you like.”

  They returned to the ground floor and Georgiana took her into the conservatory at the back of the house, which they had skipped earlier. It was a large glass addition filled with beds of ornamental trees arranged with flowering plants at their feet. A few of the trees were covered with shiny dark green leaves and had fruit on them—oranges and lemons. In the centre of the conservatory was an open space with a slate floor, furnished with wicker chairs and chaises longues and scattered with small tables. It was the most informal room they had yet visited, and the fragrance of the fruit scented the air, which gave it the feel of a summer’s day in the midst of autumn’s cold winds. Elizabeth was delighted with it.

  “This is lovely, Georgiana! Shall we have a cup of coffee in here?”

  “I would like that. I am glad you like the conservatory—it is one of my favourite places at Pemberley,” she said with a smile.

  Over their coffee Elizabeth delicately drew out her sister-in-law about herself, her likes and dislikes and her passions.

  “I know that you are very fond of music, my dear. How long have you been studying the pianoforte?”

  “I started when I was five or six; I do not recall exactly. I had a governess who was very interested in the arts; she could play, and draw, and paint beautifully, and it was her influence that made me also love them.”

  “I believe I heard mention that you are also learning to play the harp?”

  “Yes, but I am just a beginner. I have a master who comes once a week from Lambton to teach me, when I am at Pemberley.”

  “You are fortunate to have a teacher available so far from the city.”

  “Yes. He is a retired schoolmaster, but he is willing to teach me. He also helps me with the pianoforte. He is very fond of études and scales.” She rolled her eyes and Elizabeth laughed.

  “I am sure that I will meet him one day. What else do you do with your days?”

  “Well, I do some needlework, but I am not very fond of it. I like to read and Fitzwilliam’s library has an endless supply of books. Thank you again, by the way, for The Giaour; I have wanted to read it since I heard of its publication. I wish that Lord Byron could have given it an easier title, however.”

  “I would certainly agree with that! What do you like to read besides poetry?”

  “Oh, everything. I suppose that I enjoy history the most.”

  Pilot appeared at the French doors that led back into the house, and Georgiana rose to let him in. He flopped at their feet, his forepaws crossed and his head up, gazing at them.

  “He is a beautiful beast—quite a noble brow,” Elizabeth commented.

  “Yes, he is. I adore him, but he is such a monster—I have learnt to step aside when he walks by so that I am not covered with drool.”

  They smiled at each other, and Elizabeth added, “I suppose a huge, slavering Newfoundland dog, no matter how benign, is not the most appropriate pet for a lady.”

  “Perhaps not,” Georgiana said, looking at Pilot wistfully.

  Later that afternoon, Darcy found Elizabeth reading in the library and she told him about the tour. When she finished she hesitated for a moment then asked, “My love, what was your mother like? I have heard much about your father, but I do not feel that I know your mother at all, excepting, of course, her appearance in her portrait.”

  “Well, I will see if I can capture her personality for you. I have given much thought to my parents and who they were in the past twelve months of my life, so I can probably sketch her more adequately than I would have been able to before you and I met.” He paused to smile down at her and then continued, “She was very much like my aunt, Lady Whitwell, in looks, as you will see when you meet her and can compare her to my mother’s portrait. They were very close in age, only eleven months apart, while Lady Catherine was almost ten years older. Their father was the Earl of Winslow. The family was very small and he had no male relatives, so the title would die with him—to his great distress.

  “I remember my mother as very cool and elegant. She had a calm demeanour like your sister Jane, but without Jane’s warmth of personality. My father loved her very much and put her on a pedestal like a goddess, and she seemed happy to remain there. I feel, thinking back with the advantage of maturity, that she was rather—I suppose ‘detached’ would be the best word—from life. I do not remember ever seeing her passionate about anything, but then she died when I was thirteen years old, so my memories are quite possibly imperfect.

  “As you would guess from the difference in our ages, Georgiana was born when my mother was past her youth and the birth was apparently a very difficult one. My mother was never in good health after that, and she died when Georgiana was less than two years old.

  “My father carried on his duties after her death, as he had always done, but his heart was not quite with us. One of the penalties of being in love with your wife, I suppose.” He smiled at her again, this time a little sadly. “Like most children of our background, we were both raised by nurses and governesses, but I cannot help but feel that Georgiana would have benefited by having parents to serve as an example, advise her, and oversee her upbringing, as I did for most of my youth.”

  Elizabeth frowned down at her hands. “I see—Poor Georgiana. It is not surprising that she does not have confidence in herself when she really never knew her mother, and her father was grieving for most of her life.” After a few moments she added, “I will be interested to meet Lady Whitwell. She sounds quite different from Lady Catherine, which, I must add, is a blessing.”

  Darcy laughed. “Indeed it is!”
r />   ***

  As the days passed, Georgiana became more relaxed around Elizabeth, and Mrs. Darcy found her sister-in-law a sweet and thoughtful companion. Georgiana confided to her one sunny day, as they took a walk on the grounds accompanied by Pilot, that she had never felt comfortable around Mr. Bingley’s sisters, with their criticisms behind the backs of their so-called friends.

  “I confess that I was fearful that my brother would marry Miss Bingley since she expended a great deal of time and attention on him and my brother’s intimate friendship with Mr. Bingley gave her considerable access to him. I was not quite sure what his thoughts were about her, since he was invariably courteous, so I was very happy when I found out about his high regard for you, even before I met you! I should have known that he would not be led to make a mistake… he never is.”

  Elizabeth gave her an enigmatic smile and then patted her sister’s hand and thanked her for her regard as they continued their walk.

  Chapter 8

  Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace…

  —William Shakespeare, Henry VII

  The three Darcys gradually made the rounds of their neighbours, introducing Elizabeth to the local gentry. Darcy had, without question, the largest estate in the neighbourhood, but there were a number of pleasant manors nearby and they visited them all.

  First they made an early afternoon call on Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, whose manor, Kympton Hall, was a mile from the village of the same name and about four miles from Pemberley. The Ffoulkeses had a daughter just two years younger than Georgiana, but she did not know them well. They were an old Derbyshire family and had lived at Kympton Hall for about ten years, having previously lived in the south of the county on a smaller manor. Sir Andrew was a bluff, gregarious man, somewhat stout and pompous, with the look of the stereotypical English country gentleman: blue eyed, ruddy cheeked, and in his mid-forties. His looks suggested that he spent a great deal of time out-of-doors, and his conversation was mainly concerned with the state of his pheasants and whether the weather would be fine enough to hunt in December.

  When Georgiana had first met the Ffoulkeses, she thought they were an oddly matched couple. Lady Ffoulkes appeared to be much younger than her husband, had dark, Gallic good looks, and spoke English with a distinct French accent. She was slender and elegant and appeared as if she would be quite comfortable in a Paris salon. Georgiana wondered how she came to be married to this most English of country gentlemen. The Ffoulkeses had seven children, and Sir Andrew also had two unmarried sisters who lived with them, both in their early thirties and in appearance much like their brother. Both sisters spent the visit fussing over their nieces and nephews and scrutinizing their visitors in a way that Georgiana found rather unnerving, especially with the sisters’ too prominent eyes and pale lashes.

  During the visit, Sir Andrew mentioned that Lady Ffoulkes’s widowed brother, the Comte de Tournay, was expected for Christmas and would stay a fortnight, and he expressed his hope that the three Darcys would join them for dinner while the count was visiting. They indicated their willingness and made their farewells. On the way home, Elizabeth asked, a little hesitantly, “Do Sir Andrew’s sisters always stare in that way?”

  Darcy laughed and answered, “Not always. Perhaps they find you an interesting study, or maybe they have not seen the latest London fashions.”

  Georgiana interjected suddenly, “I have always thought that they looked rather like a pair of geese flanking a swan when they sit on either side of Lady Ffoulkes, as they did today.” She faded into silence and a flush crept up her neck as she neared the end of her comment, but she joined Darcy and Elizabeth weakly when they chuckled at her apt description.

  Lady Ffoulkes and her sisters-in-law returned their call very soon and the Darcy ladies found Joanna and Augusta Ffoulkes a little more personable when their nieces and nephews were not distracting their attention, but neither had much to say. Lady Ffoulkes was very pleasant and, while Georgiana was struggling through a conversation with the two odd sisters, she quietly told Elizabeth a bit more of her history, which Elizabeth related to Georgiana and Darcy after they left.

  “Her father, the late Comte de Tournay, had a large estate in the south of France, but was well known at court and advised the king to be more moderate in his dealings with his subjects. When the Revolution came and the Bastille was breached, her father took all of them back to their chateau for safety, but the Terror did not leave any of the aristocracy untouched, and eventually they were arrested and imprisoned. They were saved on the very brink of death from the guillotine by a courageous group of English gentlemen who spirited them across the English Channel to safety. Her husband was one of those gentlemen, and that is how they first met.”

  Georgiana’s eyes were wide with astonishment. “And when did they marry?”

  “They waited about two years. She was only fifteen when they met, but her husband was twenty-four and had already inherited his estate. So, although the terrible events in France delayed their marriage, when she reached age seventeen she insisted that her parents agree to their engagement. She loved Sir Andrew and saw much more clearly than her parents did that they would not be returning to their previous life in France.” Elizabeth paused for a moment and then continued, “I saw her spirits were depressed by her story, so I changed the subject. They have a daughter who will be coming out next year. They do not come to town for the Season, ordinarily, as it is too expensive to lease a house large enough for their entire family.”

  When she had related this history, Elizabeth asked Darcy, “Did you know of Sir Andrew’s past—that he helped rescue Lady Ffoulkes’s family from the guillotine and brought her to England?”

  “I heard something about it when I was a boy, but it was long after the event and the gentlemen involved kept their identities very secret. I was not really aware that it involved people that I knew.”

  Elizabeth looked at Georgiana and shook her head in amazement.

  “I think that I would remember if my neighbour had been a swashbuckling hero, would you not Georgiana?”

  “Indeed I would. I had no idea that Sir Andrew had a secret past.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head, considering her husband. “I wonder if you would have joined a small, secret band of saviours in their rescue of the French aristocracy if you had been old enough. What do you think, Georgiana?”

  She smiled and said, “I could easily picture my brother being a hero.”

  Georgiana was amused when her brother actually blushed at their speculations and chuckled to herself about the conversation all afternoon.

  ***

  The afternoon post brought Elizabeth a letter from her sister Lydia, the first she had received since their wedding:

  My dearest Sister and Brother,—

  Congratulations on your marriage. I hope that you are as happy as are my dear Wickham and I, and I wish that I could have been at the wedding, but we are very lively here in Newcastle and I could not be spared. I hope that Pemberley suits you very well, Lizzy, and that you find Miss Darcy very agreeable. We are currently searching for new living quarters as the ones we are now in are far too expensive to leave us money for food and clothes at the end of the month. I assume that you will be spending the Season in London at Mr. Darcy’s town house. If you find yourself in need of company, write to me and I would be happy to join you.—Yours, etc.

  She showed Georgiana the letter and said, “I have told you a little about my sister Lydia and the incident with Wickham.”

  Georgiana nodded.

  “I shudder to think of her uncontrolled behaviour being associated with the Darcy name and tainting your first Season. Lady Catherine’s predictions of social ostracism would be swiftly validated.”

  Georgiana hesitated for a moment and then finally asked, “Why is your youngest sister’s temper so different from your own and your sister Jane’s?”

&nbs
p; “I am afraid that my younger sisters did not have the supervision they needed while growing up.” A crimson spot appeared on each of Elizabeth’s cheeks. “You have met my mother. She has never seen the impropriety of her two youngest daughters’ behaviour, I am afraid, and has encouraged both of them to do nothing but think of young men and flirtation. I admit that a great deal of my concern over the effects of having Lydia visit are my desire to prevent you from seeing all of the weaknesses of my family, at least until you know some of us better. My amour propre demands it, I am afraid.”

  “So what will you do about her letter?”

  “I must write to her and make it politely but firmly clear that an invitation will not be forthcoming. Diplomacy is wasted on Lydia, I am afraid. She never hears anything she does not wish to. Anyway, as we obviously will not invite Wickham to visit we will probably not be importuned too often. Fortunately, I can assuage my guilty feelings by sending my sister a few pounds of my pin money. I have no difficulty at all believing that the finances of two such heedless people are in a shambles.”

  ***

  Soon after they had returned to Derbyshire, Darcy had called upon a new neighbour, Sir Robert Blake, at Coldstream Manor, which was about six miles from Pemberley. Sir Robert had turned out to be a young man of around Darcy’s age who had inherited a large fortune two years previously, and who had recently fulfilled his father’s dying wish by purchasing the estate. He had taken possession while Darcy and Elizabeth were preparing for their wedding in Hertfordshire, so Darcy had not previously had an opportunity to call upon him, but he had been favourably impressed at his first visit and returned home with an invitation to dinner.

  After telling Elizabeth and Georgiana of his visit while they awaited tea in the drawing-room, he added, “I think that we will find the Blakes most agreeable neighbours.” He turned to Elizabeth. “I suppose that I will be considered a traitor to my class, but I must say that since I have tried to moderate my prejudices and choose my friends for their merit rather than just their birth, I have collected a much more interesting group of friends. I blush to think that a year ago I would not have called upon the Blakes because of their association with trade. I must count the pleasure of Sir Robert’s acquaintance as one more benefit of meeting you, my dearest Elizabeth.”