by P. O. Dixon
When Bingham informed Georgiana he wished to paint her portrait, and Georgiana told Elizabeth, Elizabeth immediately approved the scheme. What is the harm? Elizabeth considered. Her sister would be under Mrs. Annesley’s supervision during the sessions, and it afforded time for Mr. Bingham and Georgiana to get better acquainted. Also, the young man’s reasoning had been sound. Being able to boast of painting Miss Georgiana Darcy’s portrait, even if pro bono, would mean a great deal for an aspiring artist, he had said. Surely such a claim would open doors that would otherwise be closed to him.
What was deemed agreeable to Elizabeth met with a healthy measure of skepticism on Darcy’s part. What a ruse this was in his estimation. He told his wife as much.
“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.
“His desire to capture Georgiana’s likeness is little more than an excuse to ingratiate himself with our family.”
“Lest you forget, the gentleman is a member of the family.”
“Being the grandson of the brother of my father’s father barely warrants the right to trade on the connection.”
“What say you that we refer to him as your grandfather’s brother’s grandson—that’s rather more personal, is it not? Better still, what say you that we refer to him as your third cousin? Were Pemberley entailed, Mr. Bingham might even boast of being a possible heir.”
“Thank heavens Pemberley is not entailed, for knowing him, as I strongly suspect I do, he would certainly endeavor to lay claim to it.”
“You are entirely too severe on the young man. I see no harm in his wishing to establish a greater connection to his family. Save a half-sister and her child, he is all alone in this world. Besides, Georgiana will be perfectly safe in his company. Mrs. Annesley will be present during the sittings.”
Reluctantly conceding his wife’s point, Darcy said, “So long as the two of them remain in Mrs. Annesley’s company, I suppose there is no harm. He is her—” Darcy gave a slight roll of his eyes to the ceiling “—our cousin.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Georgiana will be pleased.”
“And what exactly will you be doing during these calls?” Darcy asked, his mood improving.
“There is any number of things I might do. There are the regular visits to the tenant families, daily letter writing—”
“—Spending time with me?” Darcy interrupted. “Where does that fall on your list?”
Her own spirits rising to playfulness, she said, “Where on my list would you like it to fall?”
Placing his finger on her lips, he slowly trailed it to her heart. “Here, my love.”
Nearly two years of marriage and his touch still did things to her. A powerful sense of yearning for the man she knew was hers and hers alone flooded her being. Her desire fully awakened, she moistened her lips. “ Your point is well taken,” she replied, placing her hand on his cheek and encouraging him to lean forward and his lips to meet hers.
Elsewhere, Georgiana was seeing her cousin off. The two of them ambled across the black and white marble tiled floor. By his expression, Bingham was still very much in awe of the manor house. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away from the magestic ceiling paintings.
Making every effort to claim her share of his attention, Georgiana said, “As happy as I am to sit for you, the notion of you painting my portrait for free is unthinkable. It is not as though my brother does not have the means to reward you amply.”
“No doubt, he does. However, unless he approaches me with such an offer, I do not think it would be wise for me to solicit him. He might then exercise the option of saying no, which would hamper my cause exceedingly.”
Crumpling her brow, she replied, “How so, if I might ask?”
“Surely you know that I wish to paint you so that we might spend time with each other.”
Georgiana felt the color spread all over her body. She had been exceedingly careful not to show any of her gentleman admirers any manner of favoritism during her coming out Season in town. It was somehow different with Mr. Bingham. Her attraction to him was beyond her power to resist.
He was not at all like the others—with all their wealth and heralded connections. How insufficient were these things in garnering Georgiana’s favor. In a sense, she was just as ignorant of her family’s history as he was. Perhaps, when her daily sittings were over, they might have the excuse of spending time in the library poring through old family records, she considered. Indeed, the prospect of spending time in his company was appealing in every possible way. She found herself agreeing with him. Why risk her brother rejecting the notion of his capturing Georgiana’s likeness on canvas by asking for some sort of compensation?
Mr. Bingham and Georgiana were together in the music room early the next day. Mrs. Annesley was present as well—close enough to keep an observant eye on the couple, but not so close as to hear whatever was being said between them.
Not that it mattered, for all of Mr. Bingham’s focus was on his work. Georgiana, when she was not doing everything in her power to maintain the pose he had suggested for his masterpiece, was pleasantly engaged in fanciful imaginings involving her cousin.
They were the sort of imaginings that she knew to keep to herself. Her brother would not approve of Mr. Bingham despite the family connection and Georgiana reasoned it was solely because of her cousin’s lack of fortune.
Is it Mr. Bingham’s fault that he was not born into wealth, the likes of which my brother and I have always known? To Georgiana’s way of thinking, her cousin had just as much right to avail himself of Pemberley’s largess as did Fitzwilliam and she. His own grandfather had called Pemberley his home.
Would it be a crime for Mr. Bingham to know that same feeling? For his children? Our children?
There I go again—assuming affection where prevailing evidence supports there is none, she silently berated herself. On the other hand, she ought not to be too hard on herself for secretly falling in love with her third cousin. She threw a furtive glance at the object of her musings. His masculine beauty never ceased to amaze her.
Just then, he looked up from the canvas and saw that Georgiana was looking at him. His eyes, though devastatingly charming, held a gentle admonishment that she needed to resume her former pose.
Indeed, she was in grave danger of falling deeply in love with her cousin. She hoped that, in spending so much time with her, his feelings would one day assume a similar vein. Only time would tell. In the meantime, she knew enough about her brother’s wishes for her future marital felicity to know she had better not show any symptom of love for Mr. Bingham to anyone. Whatever were his sentiments toward her, be they of a familial, a platonic, or a romantic persuasion, she wanted to spend as much time getting to know him as possible. Any suspicion of affection between them on her brother’s part would be the surest means of sending Mr. Bingham on his way.
Chapter 12
Darcy arrived at Matlock early in response to an urgent missive from his aunt Lady Ellen, dispatched on the earl’s behest. The elderly man had suffered a bout of apoplexy. With his son and heir, Lord Robert Fitzwilliam, on the continent and his younger son, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, on a secret assignment, he wanted Darcy to understand the inner workings of his affairs in their absence.
With the curtains drawn, Lord Edward Fitzwilliam’s room was dark, at first giving Darcy to wonder if he had made it in time, or whether his uncle had perished. Glancing to his left, Darcy espied his uncle being attended by the family’s physician. His lordship waved his nephew to come closer. “I was beginning to think you might not arrive in time. Well, let us get on with it.” The earl’s voice sounded frail and weak, not at all like that of the man who wore his pride in being the titular head of the Fitzwilliam family on his sleeve. “In my eldest son’s absence, it will be your responsibility to look after the family once I am gone.”
After a cursory glance at the physician and a slight bow, Darcy pulled up a chair beside the bed and took a seat. “You should not speak this wa
y, Uncle. I am confident your current malady is little more than a minor setback. You will survive all of us. You are far too stubborn to do otherwise.”
“I might have thought as much myself at this time last week, but an inconvenient fit of apoplexy has a way of changing a man’s perspective. I am subject to go at any moment.” The earl started coughing uncontrollably. The physician, who had been tidying his things in preparation to leave when Darcy entered the room, stopped what he was doing, poured water into a glass, and held it to the earl’s mouth, encouraging him to take slow sips.
Once he had calmed, Lord Fitzwilliam said, “You are aware that my elder son Robert is on the continent. We have not heard a word from him in months. Richard is off on a secret campaign, the nature of which even I have not been made privy to. My steward is a good man, but he cannot be expected to carry on in my absence. The task falls squarely on your shoulders, Nephew, at least until the viscount returns. Even then I will need you to help him along. He is woefully ill-prepared to ascend to the earldom.”
Here again, the earl started coughing. This time, Darcy picked up the glass and coaxed him to drink. “I shall do what I can, Uncle. For the time being, you must calm yourself. Rest for now. I shall be here when you awaken.”
“Rest! All I have done for the past few days is rest. This business will not wait. Listen carefully for there are vital concerns you ought to know.”
Darcy’s aunt, Lady Ellen, came into the room. The elegant woman, who after more than five decades on Earth continued to have more than her fair share of beauty, walked over to the bed and sat by her husband.
“How is our patient?”
Darcy gave her a knowing look. She had warned him of her husband’s determination to put his affairs in order even though the doctor had proclaimed his worries were greatly premature.
The earl said, “I have been explaining to my nephew how he will in effect be the head of the family until our elder son is found.”
“What attempts have been made to locate Robert?” Darcy asked, directing the question to her ladyship.
“Several letters have been dispatched to places on his itinerary. I believe it is only a matter of time before he is located and he returns home.”
Her ladyship commenced fussing over her husband, who wanted none of it; thus giving Darcy a moment to reflect on what was happening at Pemberley. Time spent at Matlock would be time away from Elizabeth. They were no longer newlyweds, but still they had not been parted from each other for a single night since the wedding.
The thought of asking her to join him in Matlock did cross his mind once or twice, but he did not want to interrupt the good work she was doing with Pemberley’s tenants. Also, asking Elizabeth to join him meant asking Georgiana to accompany them as well.
He had seen the progress Bingham was making on his sister’s portrait. The gentleman did indeed possess great promise. Perhaps being able to boast of capturing Georgiana’s likeness was just the feather in his cap the man needed to set about on the road to fame and fortune. Removing Georgiana from Pemberley would merely serve to delay the progress that had been made. The last thing he wanted was to be the means of Bingham remaining in Derbyshire a moment longer than was necessary. While it was true that his sister enjoyed being acquainted with their distant cousin exceedingly, Darcy was as determined as ever that nothing would become of it. In fact, whenever he was at leisure to think about it, the idea of an artist claiming his sister’s hand was enough to make him laugh aloud.
Sadly, this is not one of those times, Darcy considered, fixing his gaze on the earl. However grave was his uncle’s condition, the older man was serious in his convictions to put his affairs in order. As family meant everything to Darcy, he intended to do everything in his power to ease his uncle’s state of mind.
~*~
Some days later, Elizabeth was riding along in a horse-drawn carriage early one morning, still in the afterglow of shared intimacies with Darcy. They did not spend nearly so much time with each other now that his uncle had fallen ill and Darcy was spending so much time traveling back and forth between the two great estates.
Elizabeth would not complain. She had more than enough causes to occupy her days. She might also have had the excuse of occasionally calling on her neighbors, but she took very little pleasure in such excursions. She may have been seen by some as an old married woman by now, and she may have been expected to comport herself accordingly, but she was barely three and twenty. None of the Derbyshire society women of her acquaintance were on the best side of five and forty, or so it seemed to her. Growing up with four sisters, Elizabeth always enjoyed the company of her own sex. When she was not with her sisters, she could often be found with her intimate friend Charlotte.
Those were the days, she silently waxed poetically. That was the one drawn back to Mr. Bingham’s near constant presence at Pemberley of late: his command of the best part of Georgiana’s days. Again, Elizabeth would not complain, for Georgiana liked spending time with her newfound cousin too much for Elizabeth to begrudge the loss of her companionship. Besides, she considered, Georgiana will one day marry and leave the fold despite my husband’s secret wish to put it off for the indeterminate future.
The carriage drew to a halt in front of the little cottage belonging to a Mr. and Mrs. Brown, recalling Elizabeth to her purpose. This was just the first stop of at least three that she had planned for that morning. The last would be a visit to the Pollards’ home, a rather lively household with five daughters ranging in ages from five to fifteen, a mother who fancied herself of a nervous persuasion, and a father who spent nearly every waking hour away from home endeavoring to provide for all of them.
Were Elizabeth called upon to do so, of the scores of Pemberley’s tenants, she would have to say that she liked this particular family most of all. Of course, the Pollard family’s circumstances were too unfortunate for their situation to be compared to her former life at Longbourn. However, given the liveliness of so many members of the fairer sex competing for their share of attention at any given moment, Elizabeth was afforded a measure of comfort she sometimes forgot how much she missed.
~*~
On the following Wednesday, the Bingleys eluded their houseguests and visited the Darcys at Pemberley. It did not take long for the ladies to leave their husbands to their own devices and set off for a walk on a wooded path. Of all the subjects the two sisters might have discussed, nothing was more urgent than the matter of Jane and her husband’s discord.
Jane said, “In many respects, the situation is worse than being at Netherfield because not only is there Caroline to deal with but also the Wickhams. They are always engaged in one disagreement or another, and Charles—well you know how much he hates arguments and conflict as you may very well remember from the earliest days at Netherfield when you and Darcy were getting to—”
Here Jane paused and cleared her throat, “Ahem—getting acquainted, and so he throws up his hands. I am left to play peacekeeper, and, well frankly, I am rather tired of it all. I simply wish they would all just leave us alone.”
“Bravo Jane, I think that is the second most severe speech that I ever heard you utter,” Elizabeth exclaimed—the first being when Jane had cited the Bingley sisters’ feigned approbation toward her upon first making their acquaintance.
“Indeed, that is our purpose in being here at Pemberley today.”
“If a clash between the Wickhams and Miss Bingley has been the means of your being here, I have to tell you that I owe them a debt of gratitude. We do not see each other nearly so much as I would like.”
“Indeed. Pray how do you get along with the newest member of your family?”
“Ah! Mr. Bingham. I must say we get along very well. Georgiana is quite taken with him. There is a little wonder, for the gentleman really is quite charming. My husband does not agree. On some levels, I suspect he views his cousin as a competitor for Georgiana’s esteem. I posit he suffers an unwillingness to admit that his sister is no
longer a young girl who needs his constant protection but rather a young woman on the precipice of forming her own acquaintances and connections.”
“After what happened at Ramsgate, you can hardly blame him for his fierce protectiveness toward his sister.” Jane colored. “Oh, Lizzy, I suppose I ought not to have said anything. I certainly did not intend to touch upon a subject that might give you pain.”
“All that unfolded many years ago. Georgiana is not that same girl. She has grown into a sensible, intelligent young woman who is ready to take her place in society. How can she do that if he will not allow her a bit more freedom?”
Later that same day, Elizabeth and Georgiana were together in the library. Elizabeth’s talk with Jane was weighing on her mind, She thought she ought to discuss the matter with Georgiana. “Pray how is your portrait coming along?”
“I wish I could say, but Mr. Bingham will not allow me to have a glimpse of what he is doing.”
“I am not surprised to hear that. I imagine that is the way with artists; unwilling to share their masterpieces with anyone until the unveiling.”
“That is what he says in response to my daily entreaties. On the one hand, I can hardly wait to see it, but then again, I am not particularly eager.”
“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Why do you espouse the latter sentiment?”
“Once he is finished capturing my likeness, he will have no reason to remain here in Derbyshire, I am afraid. He must be off in pursuit of his passion for his profession. I am not unaware of the sacrifice he has made in remaining here for so long even though I have offered to compensate him using what little money I have at my own disposal, but he will not hear of it.” Georgiana bit her lower lip. “My brother has yet to commission a master to capture your likeness. Perhaps you might persuade him to engage Mr. Bingham’s services. Then my cousin shall have cause to remain in Derbyshire even longer, which would please me exceedingly.”
