Mr. Darcy's Little Sister

by C. Allyn Pierson

  Georgiana tried not to let the quarrel ruin her evening, and she managed to avoid meeting Lord St. George off the dance floor. St. George and the colonel did their duties as the sons of the house and made sure that every young woman had her share of partners, but she was greatly relieved when the colonel asked her for a second pair of dances before supper. As soon as their dances finished, Georgiana gathered her courage and said, “Shall we go out on the terrace for a few minutes? It is quite crowded in here and the night is beautiful.”

  He bowed and offered her his arm and they made their way around the dance floor to where several French doors opened onto the terrace, which was flooded with light from the ballroom. Georgiana saw Lord St. George coming towards them with a determined expression and she flung a pleading look across the room to Elizabeth, who caught her eye and immediately assessed the situation and intercepted St. George.

  “Lord St. George! We were just discussing the prospects for the racing season. Do you have an opinion?”

  St. George politely turned to her and found himself drawn into the discussion, and Georgiana gave a sigh of relief. She boldly led the way through the French doors and onto the terrace, where marble benches attracted the many couples who needed a breath of air. They could sit and talk in relative privacy without being completely unchaperoned. The colonel led her to a bench in full sight of the ballroom and sat next to her. A nervous shiver ran through her as they sat in silence. When the colonel finally stirred and spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, “So, Cousin, have you recovered from your terrible experience at the beginning of the season?”

  She looked at him; his face was outlined by the moonlight, but its expression was hidden.

  “Oh, yes. I am very well. I just wish that I could be sure that Mr. Walker would not bother us again. I-I had nightmares after you rescued me, but they are fading. I suppose only marriage will release me from the fear that he will try again.”

  She could see his eyes close for a moment, his face giving nothing away.

  “I wish that I could assure you of your safety, my dear cousin. I hope it will not be long before we are free of him.”

  A thought occurred to her and she urgently leaned towards him.

  “You would not do anything to punish him yourself, would you, Colonel?”

  He sat up a little straighter and looked searchingly at her.

  “You are not concerned about Walker, are you, Georgiana?”

  She took a deep breath to calm her racing pulse. Quite deliberately, she put her trembling hand on his arm and looked directly into his face, hopeful that the moonlight which hid his visage would illuminate hers.

  “No, I am concerned about you, Colonel. Much as I long for vengeance against Walker, I do not wish for you to risk your freedom and your reputation by dealing with him yourself. Justice will out, and he will undoubtedly receive what he deserves without our intervention.”

  “I suppose. It is a very unsatisfying resolution, however, when I feel so murderously angry about his actions.”

  Georgiana smiled at him, hoping that the dim light hid the flush on her face.

  “Do not worry, my dearest cousin. As soon as I am married my dowry will belong to my husband, and Walker will have no reason to make another attempt against me.”

  The colonel stared at her for a few seconds, his eyes searching her face. Before he could say more, a lull in the music sent half a dozen couples onto the terrace in search of cool air and Georgiana gave a silent sigh of frustration. She wished she had the courage to ask him what he was thinking behind his unreadable countenance, but she feared that she would not want to know his answer to the direct question.

  After a moment, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “Shall we go back in? Supper will be served very soon.”

  She tried to smile. “Yes, let us go in.”

  ***

  Later, after supper had finished and the dancing had resumed, Georgiana happened to glance over at Lady Whitwell just at the moment when a footman approached and whispered in her ear. She quietly signalled the orchestra leader and they struck up “God Save the King” just as the Prince Regent and several of his retinue entered the ballroom. The family all greeted him very formally, and he spoke with each of them for a moment. When he reached Darcy and Elizabeth, he raised her from her curtsey and said, “Ah, dear lady, I believe that we met not two days ago.” He glanced at Darcy with a rather malicious look in his eye. “I hope that your esteemed husband will forgive me if I beg for your hand for the next dance.”

  Elizabeth raised one brow slightly but consented with a graceful smile and nod. Darcy bowed to his ruler to indicate his approval of the invitation, but his face was a polite mask. Elizabeth advanced to the dance floor, her hand on the Prince Regent’s arm, and stood at the head of the line for the start of the dance.

  The Prince Regent was a personable man and, in spite of his corpulence, his smile was attractive and he seemed to put himself out to be agreeable to Elizabeth. Georgiana watched as her sister answered his conversation politely, but rather warily, her face showing nothing but calm interest in her partner’s conversation, but she was sure she saw a sardonic twinkle in Elizabeth’s eye.

  She glanced over at the family group and saw Miss Bingley standing with Viscount St. George. Miss Bingley’s eyes were narrowed and she whispered rapidly in the viscount’s ear. Darcy was watching the Prince Regent without expression until Elizabeth smiled at him across the room; his face relaxed and he sketched a small bow in her direction.

  When the dance finished the Prince Regent escorted his partner off of the floor to where Darcy was standing and thanked her for the pleasure of dancing with her. She gave him a reserved smile and curtseyed as she said, “I thank you, Your Majesty, for the great honour.”

  After a few more minutes of conversation with selected guests, the prince and his entourage left and the ball went on, unchanged except for the murmurs of wonder around the room over the honour conferred by the appearance of the Prince Regent, and the fact that he had danced with Mrs. Darcy.

  ***

  When the dancing had resumed and the guests’ attention had turned away for a moment, Elizabeth whispered to Darcy, “And what am I to make of that situation? I am perplexed as to why the Prince Regent chose to ask me to dance.”

  Darcy smiled wryly. “I think that His Majesty was curious about you. He also occasionally likes to show his power as an arbiter of fashion and has apparently decided that he endorses your entrance into the haut monde. His approval will give you entrée into all levels of society, should you wish it.”

  Elizabeth gave a small shrug and went back to watching the dancers.

  After the Prince Regent’s visit a number of the guests who had barely acknowledged the Darcys when they arrived came over to talk to them. Several of the women proffered invitations to tea to Elizabeth, and some of the gentlemen suddenly seemed to recognise Darcy, inviting him to ride or to meet them at their club for a glass of wine. Both Darcys responded with all the courtesy required, but noncommittally, and soon the sycophants faded away again.

  Late in the evening, Georgiana looked around for the colonel, but she could not see him. She saw Elizabeth having a glass of punch at the refreshment table and made her way over to her through the crowd, “Have you seen Colonel Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth?”

  Elizabeth glanced around the room. “I am sorry, Georgiana, I have not seen him in quite some time.”

  Georgiana looked disappointed, although she tried to hide her chagrin. “I was hoping to dance with him again tonight.”

  Elizabeth was about to reassure her sister when a sudden wave of dizziness overcame her. Georgiana saw the colour drain out of her face and said in alarm, “Are you unwell, Elizabeth?”

  Darcy turned from where he had been talking to a group of gentlemen when he heard his sister’s voice.

  “Elizabeth? Are you ill?” />
  Elizabeth tried to subdue the dizziness but finally said in a whisper, “My dear, could you please help me out of the room?”

  He took her arm and they left unobtrusively, leaving Georgiana standing in the ballroom with a worried frown on her face. As soon as they reached the hall Elizabeth could no longer hold herself up, and she sagged on Darcy’s arm. He lifted her and carried her upstairs to one of the sitting-rooms before gently setting her down on the settee. As he put a small cushion under her head he said firmly, “Elizabeth, I am calling the doctor.”

  She protested weakly, “No, I am feeling better already. The ballroom was simply too warm. If I just lie here a few minutes I will be fine.”

  Lady Whitwell entered the room. “Georgiana told me that you were feeling faint. I have sent for the doctor and he will be here soon.”

  Darcy thanked his aunt while she put her hand on Elizabeth’s forehead. “She does not seem to have a fever. Are you still feeling unwell, my dear?”

  “I am better, thank you,” Elizabeth said as she tried to sit up. “It was just a momentary dizziness.”

  Darcy and Lady Whitwell both said “No” firmly, and she was unable to oppose their combined wills; she reclined again.

  The doctor arrived in a quarter hour and the others stood by while he spoke with Elizabeth for quite some time and took her pulse. When he finished Darcy asked anxiously, “How is she, Doctor?”

  The doctor smiled wryly, “She is fine. She needs to rest.”

  When Darcy looked rather perplexed the doctor added, with a slightly ironic smile, “You are going to be a father, sir.”

  Lady Whitwell murmured, “I suspected as much” before she thanked the doctor and escorted him out.

  Darcy crossed the room and sat at Elizabeth’s side; she smiled beatifically at him and took his hand.

  “I am going to have a baby.”

  He put his arms around her and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. “How soon?

  “The doctor thinks in about five months.”

  He kissed her again, and they both forgot about the ball in their happiness and in his relief that she was not ill. After a few minutes, Darcy suddenly sat back and chuckled.

  “What are you laughing about, my love?” Elizabeth said with a quizzical smile.

  “It just occurred to me that I should have been prepared for this. It was very unlikely that you would let your sister Jane perform an act as significant as having a child without you joining her soon after, as befits the younger sister.”

  She laughed with him and admitted the truth of his observation.

  Darcy called for their carriage and arranged for his aunt to bring Georgiana home after the ball before he escorted Elizabeth carefully downstairs. Georgiana was hovering near the door to the ballroom and saw them come down. She floated over to them with a beaming smile and embraced first Elizabeth and then her brother.

  “I am so happy for you both that I cannot even begin to tell you. Are you taking her home?” This last to her brother.

  “Yes. I think an early evening would be prudent.”

  “Undoubtedly. I will see you both tomorrow.” She kissed them and hurried back to her ball.

  On the way home, Darcy told Elizabeth about the Prince Regent’s interest in her during his audience in March, which he had forgotten until the ball. She was amused that their marriage could have an effect so opposite to Lady Catherine’s dire predictions.

  A thought seemed to occur to him, and he asked, “Did you have time to talk to Georgiana and find out why she and St. George are not speaking?”

  “No, I am afraid that I forgot,” she said.

  “Well,” he commented philosophically, “if it is important, I am sure we will eventually find out.” The matter was dropped.

  ***

  The next day found a great increase in the number of invitations that were received at Ashbourne House. Darcy cynically discarded most of them as bids to gain their favour after the Prince Regent’s actions the night before. One of them, however, he held for a moment, his lips pursed.

  Elizabeth was writing a letter to her friend Charlotte and telling her about her expectations, but she looked up at him and asked curiously, “What is it, my dear?”

  “An invitation to a party at Lord Rathburn’s this evening. He is a member of the prince’s coterie and was with him when he came to the ball last night. My initial impulse is to discard it with the others, but Rathburn was at Cambridge with me and was not a bad fellow. We have not kept in contact, but perhaps we should attend; it might be interesting for you to see how the highest circles entertain. I would not want to take Georgiana into those circles until I see how they behave these days, but she has a party this evening with my aunt and uncle. Some of the haut ton affairs can be rather decadent but we can always leave if it is too warm for our taste.”

  “I am almost afraid to ask what sorts of things go on at these affairs,” Elizabeth said dryly.

  “I would not even mention some of the things in the presence of a lady; however, Rathburn’s invitation says that it is ‘an evening with a few friends.’”

  “I have no objections if you wish to go, dear,” said Elizabeth, and she continued to sort the visiting cards that had been received the day before.

  After Darcy had left the room, Georgiana said, “Elizabeth you must tell me about your party. I will be eager to hear what it was like.”

  “And you must tell me about your evening with your aunt and uncle.”

  “I can already tell you about that. We are dining at a distant and ancient relative’s house because my aunt does not want her to feel left out of the Season. We will then go to a small party hosted by my uncle’s brother, where there will be no guests under age fifty. It will be tedious but a great relief to not have young men on all sides pressing me for a dance. Particularly since it is usually those with whom I do not wish to dance who exert the most pressure.”

  ***

  The next morning Georgiana and Elizabeth met in the music-room after breakfast to discuss their respective evenings. Georgiana summarised hers by saying, “My evening went exactly as predicted, except that my aunt’s distant cousin is a sprightly octogenarian who entertained us with slanderous stories of the royal family from when she was young while my aunt and uncle tried to change the topic to something less daring. She was delightful!”

  Elizabeth laughed and said, “My evening was a bit more complicated. We arrived at Lord Rathburn’s residence a half hour after the start of the party and were greeted by our host before entering the drawing-room. Lord Rathburn is unmarried and his cousin does the honours as hostess. He received us with courtesy, although his speech was somewhat slurred—which was explained by the champagne glass he held while greeting his guests—and, in turn, introduced us to his cousin, Miss Foster, before handing us over to a footman who bowed us into the salon. The crush of people in the room was incredible, but we managed to make our way slowly to the refreshment table, hampered by frequent stops to greet your brother’s acquaintances and to introduce me. I could hear music in the adjoining room and presumed that there was dancing but could not see over the sea of heads between me and the door. The refreshments were piled high on the table and the champagne was flowing very freely.

  “After obtaining a cup of punch for each of us, Mr. Darcy led the way to the inner room in search of breathing space.”

  “So much for ‘a few friends,’” Georgiana murmured.

  “Quite. The dance floor was sparsely filled as a cotillion began and we managed to find two seats near a window where we could observe the dancers and find some relief from the suffocating heat. I did not recognise any of the people in the two rooms through which we had passed, and your brother did not stop except to briefly introduce me, so I assumed that he had not found any acquaintances to his taste. It would have been difficult to converse in either of the r
ooms in any case because of the terrific clamour of voices and music. It was absolutely deafening.

  “After watching the dancers and greeting the occasional associate or old schoolfellow for about half an hour, Mr. Darcy, looking very bored, offered to fetch me another drink, which I accepted gratefully. I was very warm and was happy to cool myself with my fan and look out of the window at the full moon rising over the treetops.

  “He had not been gone long when the string quartet struck up a different sort of tune than those that had preceded it. I looked around at the dance floor and my eyes nearly stood out of my head as I saw the dancers pair off in couples. Although I had never seen it danced, I realised immediately that they were starting a waltz. I was put completely out of countenance, as you might imagine, and debated with myself whether it would be preferable to remain where I was and have it thought that I condoned such activities or to try to make my way quietly towards the salon and risk losing Mr. Darcy in the crowd. As I hesitated, trying to appear both detached from the dancing and unconcerned, I saw a movement to my right from the corner of my eye and turned with relief only to find myself confronted with—not my husband as I had expected but—Lord Rathburn. Our host bowed unsteadily, clearly much the worse for drink and requested my hand for the dance. As I paused—I was too shocked to answer immediately—he mumbled, ‘C’mon Mrs. Darcy. I’m sure your husband wouldn’t mind you dancing with an ol’ schoolfellow.’ His tongue stumbled over the final words, but he managed another wobbly bow.”