Likewise, Darcy concealed his own mysteries. When he returned from his errand of business, he was not at all forthcoming about what had taken place. He would say only that he had been able to complete the appointment that had failed to transpire the day before. Yet, from his low spirits and the look of pain – or possibly disappointment – that Elizabeth saw in his eyes, she surmised that the meeting had not gone well or that the business at hand had been particularly distasteful in nature.
Her attempts to lighten his mood were ineffectual. What distressed Elizabeth most, however, was her distinct impression that at least part of her husband’s displeasure was somehow directed at her. That hardly seemed possible, though, considering that only the day before they had been on the most intimate terms, sharing the wonder of their child’s life within her. There had been no hint of strain between them then. What could she have said or done since to offend him? She was on the verge of asking when Georgiana came downstairs and the opportunity was lost.
The sight of his sister accomplished what his wife’s attentions had failed to do, bringing a smile to Mr. Darcy’s face. “Ah, Georgiana, tell me, what shall we do this evening? We have no commitments, so you may have your pick of amusements, my dear. Whatever you fancy; we shall place ourselves entirely at your disposal.”
Elizabeth knew Darcy’s sudden display of cheerfulness must be an affectation. Still, she was relieved that he was able to set aside whatever troubled him, for his sister’s sake if not for her own.
Georgiana expressed eager interest in some kind of musical entertainment. Her genuine preference – as well as a desire to avoid coming upon Mr. Heywood at one of their usual locales – influenced her choice. A concert was settled on, since there was a fine orchestra in town that they had not yet heard.
The orchestra lived up to the high expectations engendered by its reputation. Exquisite music inspired the better emotions of those who were fortunate enough to be in the audience that night. Cares and injuries melted away under the soothing sounds of strings and woodwinds, and many who had started the evening out of spirits recovered them in the end.
There could have been no better medicine for what ailed Mr. Darcy, and by association, his wife. They left the concert hall feeling thoroughly uplifted, the earlier unpleasantness all but forgotten. Georgiana was very nearly in a state of rapture. She made no attempt to contain her delight with the evening’s entertainment. The orchestra, the conductor, the composer, and any other persons or circumstances that had contributed to her enjoyment, she praised in generous measure, regaling Darcy and Elizabeth with her effusions all the way back to the house.
Mr. Darcy’s improved frame of mind held, as Elizabeth observed with relief when they retired to their bedchamber. The lines of tension had eased from his brow, and his dark eyes bespoke only love and tenderness when he gazed upon her. She was satisfied. Although she would have liked an explanation for his earlier behavior, especially as it might relate to herself, she asked him no questions. She would not have disturbed his repose for all the world.
~*~
Inspired by what she heard at the concert, Georgiana took to her pianoforte with renewed vigor the next morning. Her nimble fingers danced back and forth across the keyboard with impressive proficiency, filling the house with music. She was totally absorbed by the pursuit for close to two hours and unconscious of anyone or anything else.
Darcy and Elizabeth listened from the next room, having both decided to forgo any business or social calls for the day. As they sat in quiet conversation, the footman brought in the post and presented it to his master on a silver tray.
“We have a letter from Fitzwilliam, and also one from your sister Jane. Which do you want first, Lizzy?” he asked.
“Oh, let us hear from Fitzwilliam, by all means. It has been weeks since we had news of him.”
Darcy read the colonel’s letter aloud.
My Dear Friends,
I trust you are all three in good health and enjoying your stay in town. You, Georgiana, must be especially admired wherever you are seen this season. I picture you now as I saw you at your birthday ball, dancing each dance with a new and eager partner. Regrettably, this time I am not so fortunate as to be one of them, although I am quite certain you are too merry to miss your old cousin in any case.
Though nothing compared to London, Rosings is also playing host to an uncharacteristically busy season of activity of a different sort. There are parties, luncheons, fittings, and I know not what. It is a great mystery to me. The prospective groom, I find, is required to be always present but never to interfere. There seems to be nothing of consequence for me to do. The ladies – in this case, primarily Lady Catherine, of course – command the attention and make every decision.
I fear that it has been a little too much for poor Anne, whose strength seems to be flagging under the strain. Her physician, Dr. Essex, appears to harbor some measure of concern for her as well, but he assures me there is no real danger. He is a fine fellow, by the way, and so solicitous of Anne. With his care, I trust she will rebound quickly once all the fuss is over. Still, it is a pity that she is cannot enter more into the spirit of things, since I believe all these events are meant to please and honor the bride above anyone else. As it is, I think her mother takes the most enjoyment from them.
Lady Catherine, Anne, and I are coming into town on Friday. There is some shopping for wedding-related paraphernalia yet to be accomplished. I believe Anne and I are to be trusted with that. Meanwhile, her ladyship intends to call upon you, Elizabeth. She has resigned herself to do it, but seems none too happy at the prospect. Although she would never admit it, Darcy, I gather that the honor is being paid to your worthy wife on your command. I would dearly love to know what you did to humble the great lady so. At any rate, I am selfishly glad for the apparent reconciliation since it will clear the way for our continued close fellowship.
I must get this to the post now so that you may have sufficient notice to prepare yourselves for your esteemed visitor. I only wish I could be there. One day you must tell me all about it as I cannot depend on receiving an accurate account from our aunt.
Yours, etc.
J. Fitzwilliam
“Well, what do say to that, Darcy? Your aunt is coming to call on us after all – quite a triumph for you.”
“I am glad she comes, but the honor and credit belong to you, my dear; the reconciliation was your idea. I only established the conditions under which it would be possible. It appears Lady Catherine has decided to comply with those terms.”
“You have managed the whole thing, and I make no doubt it is only on your account that she is willing to acquiesce. She certainly would never lower herself only to get back into my good graces.”
The other letter contained no such singular news, but it was no less welcome either. In it, Jane related an entertaining account of Lydia’s antics along with the information that Mrs. Bennet and Kitty had departed for Longbourn. The largest share of the letter, however, was devoted to narrating the growth and progress of the twins. According to Jane, they were changing so rapidly that hardly a day went by without some new development. She reported that little Charles displayed a mild, easy temperament, whereas his sister, Frances, was inclined to demand her own way and complain loudly when she did not get it. The nurse frequently allowed the infant to exercise her lungs in this manner, considering it exceedingly beneficial for her health. Jane credited Frances, therefore, with finally driving Mrs. Bennet away.
“Jane writes so descriptively,” said Elizabeth, “that I almost feel as if I were there. It will be good to see for ourselves how our niece and nephew have grown when we return.”
As Georgiana entered, Mr. Darcy addressed her. “You have treated us to a very fine concert this morning, just as pleasing as the one we heard last night, which I gather has renewed your enthusiasm to play.”
“You are correct, as usual, brother. I am rededicating myself to practice more diligently. I have been far too lax
since we came into town.”
“I can hardly agree with you there,” said Elizabeth. “But, by all means, play as much as you like. You will hear no complaint from me or from your brother either, I think.”
“Indeed,” agreed Darcy, “since we are the beneficiaries. Whilst you were playing, Georgiana, the morning post came and we read our two letters. They will both be of interest to you as well, I am sure. There is one from Jane and another from Fitzwilliam, in which he says some very pretty things about you, my dear.” He handed the letters to Georgiana.
She took them and crossed toward the window, curling up in an oversized chair to read with her back toward the other two, who continued their conversation. Elizabeth could not help glancing in Georgiana’s direction from time to time, anxious over her response to the colonel’s missive. The first part must excite feelings of pleasure, but the talk of the wedding might well bring pain if Georgiana still felt a fervent attachment to Fitzwilliam.
Any strong sentiments the letter inspired left no trace on Georgiana’s visage by the time she quit her window seat and rejoined them. “So we are to be visited by Lady Catherine on Friday,” she said. “It must be nearly two years since I last had that pleasure. Shall you be nervous when she comes, Elizabeth?”
“I hardly know.”
“She needn’t be intimidated,” said Darcy. “Elizabeth was more than a match for our aunt last time they met, I understand.”
On that occasion, Lady Catherine, incensed by the rumor of an engagement between Elizabeth and her nephew, journeyed to Longbourn to make her sentiments on the subject known. But Elizabeth stood her ground and defied her ladyship’s demands, flatly refusing to promise that she would never marry Mr. Darcy. In reporting Elizabeth’s obstinacy to her nephew, and thereby giving him reason to hope, Lady Catherine quite unintentionally played a role toward uniting the couple.
“And this encounter should be much less contentious,” Darcy continued.
“Let us hope so. For my part, I plan to be perfectly well behaved,” said Elizabeth. Then, with an impish grin, she added, “And, should conversation lag, I can always flatter her. I might start by praising her usefulness at bringing us together. Shall I, Darcy? Oh, how distressed she would be to know that we owe our happiness, at least in part, to her!”
Although this thought amused her, Elizabeth had no intention of deliberately vexing Lady Catherine. She was fully prepared to forgive all past offences, and prayed she would have the forbearance to likewise overlook any new provocation given either by accident or design.
When Friday arrived, Elizabeth awaited her caller with as much equanimity as she could command. It had been decided that the others would keep out of sight initially, in order that Lady Catherine might pay her respects to Mrs. Darcy without distraction or witnesses. Accordingly, when the grand lady in her very grand carriage appeared in front of the house, Darcy and Georgiana retreated to the next room, leaving Elizabeth alone to receive her.
Lady Catherine was announced, and she swept into the room with her customary, self-important air – no sign of newfound humility yet apparent.
Elizabeth rose to greet her. “Lady Catherine. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon … Mrs. Darcy.” Judging from her sour-looking countenance, that title, long coveted for her daughter, left a bitter taste in Lady Catherine’s mouth as she was obliged to use it in addressing an undeserving usurper.
“Please, do sit down,” Mrs. Darcy invited, and they both did so. “How good of you to come all this way to call on me.”
“It was no trouble; I was in town already,” her ladyship responded dismissively.
“I see,” said Elizabeth, feeling the slight. “I am so glad that you were not put to any inconvenience on my account, madam.”
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Darcy,” said her ladyship, seeming to remember herself. She continued in a more conciliatory tone. “I would have come to pay my respects regardless, and I do hope you will be good enough to forgive the tardiness of my visit.”
“Of course. I trust your ladyship is well.”
“I am, thank you. And allow me to compliment you on your … obvious good health,” she said with a glance at Elizabeth’s expanding midsection. “Darcy informed me of your expectations. You must be very happy.”
“Yes, very.”
Chapter 19
Lady Catherine
On the whole, Lady Catherine de Bourgh behaved quite handsomely when she called on Mrs. Darcy. For most people of good breeding, this is hardly an accomplishment worthy of special note. Yet it requires considerable exertion for one who so infrequently exercises the capacity. Her ladyship certainly recognized the difference between good and bad manners in others, and she never scrupled to point out the deficiencies of those who failed to measure up. However, she seldom saw the need to hold herself to the same high standards.
On this exceptional day, however, Lady Catherine judged it worthwhile to go beyond the minimum level of civility to something approaching deference, in order to be sure of satisfying Mr. Darcy’s terms. She did her best to appear suitably penitent and pay his wife the homage required. After ten minutes of courteous conversation with Elizabeth, her efforts were rewarded by the entrance of the two persons whose society she truly valued maintaining – her niece and nephew.
Other than a fleeting glance at Mr. Collins’s funeral, Lady Catherine had not seen Mr. Darcy throughout their entire estrangement. She quickly noted that his appearance had not altered substantially during that interval. Georgiana was a different matter. The passage of nearly two years had transformed her niece from a gangly girl into a young woman who bore a striking resemblance to her deceased mother, Lady Anne Darcy, at the same age. Lady Catherine could not take her eyes off the living image of her dead sister that now stood before her.
“Georgiana, come here,” she commanded, continuing her inspection at closer range. “My heavens. Yes, you have the true look of her now, your mother that is. Of course, you were too young when she died to remember much about her, but you will have seen her portrait in the gallery at Pemberley. That likeness was taken when she was just your age, the year she married your father. The resemblance is quite distinct. Have you not remarked it yourself?”
“Oh, but my mother was so beautiful! I cannot see that I look a thing like her, Lady Catherine.”
“You are too humble, child; you underestimate yourself. Nevertheless, I am very happy to see you again, my dear.” At last, turning to Darcy, she said, “I am pleased to see you also, nephew. Are you well?”
“I am, and let me say how gratified we all are by the extraordinary improvement in Anne’s health. I hardly knew her when she came to Pemberley in January.”
“Yes. Dr. Essex is a clever physician, and he has done wonders for Anne. I have very high hopes for her now that her health no longer holds her back. She has such natural talent and taste; they have only wanted proper opportunity to develop.”
“Is Anne enjoying all the wedding preparations?” Georgiana asked, to Elizabeth’s amazement. Although on this occasion the topic of the wedding was sure to come up at some point, she hardly expected it to be Georgiana who voluntarily opened it.
“To a degree,” said her aunt. “Although, since Anne is modest by nature, it is an adjustment for her to be the focus of so much activity and attention. She has not the strength of spirit to carry it off, you see, so I have had to step in and manage the arrangements myself.”
This disclosure came as a shock to no one. Lady Catherine had demonstrated time and again that being in control was the position she presumed to be her birthright and prerogative. The wonder was that she would relinquish that right, even temporarily, as she did on this occasion in order to comply with Mr. Darcy’s stipulations.
Although her presence was achieved at the behest of another, Lady Catherine still managed to maintain command of the conversation. “I have assigned Anne and Fitzwilliam an errand on Bond Street today,” she continued. “They are to return h
ere when finished. I do hope they are not too long about it. I always insist upon being back to Rosings before dark. It is so perilous to travel at night, and I am excessively attentive to all details of safety. I was telling Lady Metcalfe only the other day that she would do well to follow my example in these matters. I was appalled to learn from one of my servants that she did not return from her excursion to Hastings until long after sundown. There was a tolerable moon that night, but still it was most imprudent.” After a brief pause for breath, she turned to Elizabeth. “Mrs. Darcy, I hope you will do us the honor of calling at Rosings Park before you return to Pemberley. Perhaps the three of you could drive down one day soon. There is still time before the wedding.”
“Possibly it could be arranged,” Elizabeth said, not wanting to commit without her husband’s approbation. “Will we meet the clever Dr. Essex if we are able to come?”
“He has been here in town these three weeks, so I should imagine not. Still, there are other inducements. The woods and groves of Rosings are incomparably beautiful in late spring, and I remember how fond you were of rambling about them when you visited two years ago. Darcy, you will want to see Fitzwilliam. And Georgiana, I must hear you play again; we have no time for that today, and my instrument is undoubtedly superior in any case.”
Mr. Darcy took the opening to interject, “Georgiana and Elizabeth collaborate for some first-rate duets, Lady Catherine; Georgiana plays while Mrs. Darcy sings. I do not believe you have ever heard my wife’s fine singing voice, Aunt, which is a great pity considering your taste and appreciation for music.”
The Darcys of Pemberley Page 14
