by Olivia Kane
She sighed. It was too late to do anything but stuff her self-doubts inside, plaster a smile on her face and act as if she could juggle the needs of a house full of lords and ladies single-handedly and in her sleep.
The door to the coach opened and the footman lowered the steps. Elizabeth descended first looking exceedingly well and the picture of happiness. Even Mr. Darcy was more handsome than Charlotte remembered; his dark good looks seemed less foreboding now that he wore her friend’s approval and a wide smile. He bowed graciously and Charlotte was immediately won over by the force of his charm and warmth.
“Mamma, Pappa, you remember Elizabeth and here is her new husband Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Darcy bowed graciously and shook the hands of his hosts, then turned toward the coach and said, “Allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy.” From the depths of the carriage emerged a full-grown young woman whom most definitely would not fit into the nursery.
Mistake number one, thought Charlotte.
Miss Darcy descended the stairs cautiously and completed a polite curtsy before her hosts. She possessed a tall, elegant figure and flashed an engaging smile.
“How do you do?”
Her voice was melodious and genteel and with only a little shyness, she raised her beautiful big brown eyes and met Charlotte’s curious eyes full on. Charlotte was immediately glad that Georgiana was included in the party.
Lady Radcliffe had a separate reaction. She could not hide her disappointment at the missed opportunity to entertain a child. Worse yet, she had failed to prepare the proper accommodations for a grown woman.
The nursery indeed!
Lady Radcliffe pulled Charlotte aside and whispered anxiously.
“Miss Darcy must have your room! Notify Mrs. Holmes that you and Guy will be taking the governesses’ suite instead. Tell her to clear your belongings quickly and take them to the nursery. We will entertain the Darcys in the drawing room until the arrangements are complete.”
Charlotte knew she could not object to the relocation as they could hardly install the full-grown Miss Darcy in the nursery.
Oh how Guy would laugh at their demotion!
Lord and Lady Radcliffe escorted the new arrivals inside while Charlotte excused herself to find Mrs. Holmes.
Upon entering the home, Fitzwilliam quietly viewed the commodious entry hall, wide mahogany staircase, and the polished, well-maintained surfaces. They suggested a proper pride of position that was central to Fitzwilliam’s idea of nobility, and his hopes for his sister could not help but grow. He stood back with Lord Radcliffe, while the ladies moved into the adjacent drawing room.
“How old is the place?” Fitzwilliam inquired as the two stood alone in the hall.
“Five and fifty years,” Lord Radcliffe said with pride. “I was born here and hope to die here too.”
“My father always said the same about Pemberley,” said Fitzwilliam. “And he got his wish.”
“Oh I am sorry to hear that,” Lord Radcliffe said with sincerity. “And so you are your sister’s guardian?”
“I share her care with my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, but only until I have the pleasure of giving her away in marriage.” He did not meet Lord Radcliffe’s eyes, preferring to let his words linger in the air, continuing to take in the room’s details. Then he looked at Lord Radcliffe directly and added, “Is your eldest son joining us for the hunt?”
His juxtaposition of subject matter was not lost on Lord Radcliffe—the rightness of the suggestion was impossible to deny. Lord Radcliffe looked Mr. Darcy directly in the eye and with a wry smile replied, “Why, yes. He is presently occupied but will be joining the party this evening. Shall we?” and motioned his guest into the drawing room.
More than pleased with his first impression of Mr. Darcy, Lord Radcliffe insisted that Fitzwilliam be seated on his very own chaise. He would not accept Mr. Darcy’s protestation that he preferred to stand. After ensuring his guest was comfortable, Lord Radcliff sat himself down and took a second, longer look at the beautiful and very suitable Miss Georgiana Darcy, and chuckled with amusement. He believed it very unlikely that his son would choose to attach himself to Miss Anne de Bourgh with Miss Georgiana Darcy in the house.
Meanwhile, Charlotte returned to the company in the drawing room, satisfied that Mrs. Holmes and two maids had the room reassignment under control. Her momentary fears about her hostessing abilities were replaced by the natural joy and felicity that her friendship with Elizabeth exuded.
Elizabeth made room on the settee and patted the cushion, “Sit here next to me!”
Charlotte settled herself happily next to her good friend and leaned her head on her shoulder.
“What a pretty bonnet!” she complimented her.
“Thank you. I cannot quite bear to put away my summer things when the weather is still so beautiful,” Elizabeth said.
“And where is this husband of yours? When do I see him again?” Elizabeth was anxious to become better acquainted with the young tutor that had stolen her friend’s heart. She had only a brief memory of his face, collected on the night of the Meryton Assembly, so long ago.
“Drinking the afternoon away at the Meryton Arms with my brother Hugh,” Charlotte laughed. “He lives entirely for pleasure.”
All the company, except Lord Radcliffe, laughed aloud. He in turn was horrified that his daughter spoke so freely of her brother’s boozy afternoon just when he wanted Mr. Darcy to get a wholesome impression of his son. He bristled in his chair, relieved to see Hastings entering the room with refreshments.
“Aha! Here is Hastings! You must all be so parched!” he exclaimed loudly. “And my favorite biscuits, and look at the beautiful figs! Mr. Darcy, what would you like?”
Lord Radcliffe proceeded to speak in an animated tone to each person in the room about their choice of refreshment until he was convinced that the image of his son’s soaking the afternoon away in the tavern was pushed far back into Mr. and Miss Darcy’s respective minds.
Just then Mrs. Holmes arrived.
“I will show our guests to their quarters now, my lady, if it is convenient,” she announced confidently. A smile of relief spread across Lady Radcliffe’s face. She had made a rare error in anticipating her guests’ needs, admitting to herself that without Mrs. Holmes’ efficient, unshakeable competence, she would be a wreck of a hostess every time. Nevertheless, she must act as if no mistakes were made.
“Already? Why I would love to sit here longer but my desires do not take precedence, you must all be eager to settle in and rest from your day’s journey. Yes, Mrs. Holmes if you would be so kind as to show them to their rooms now.”
Charlotte accompanied Mrs. Holmes as she escorted the Darcys upstairs to their rooms, laughing inside at their mistaken assumptions about the age of Miss Darcy and relieved that the room assignments were reshuffled so easily. Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were shown to a set of fine rooms to the right of the landing that looked over the back of the estate, with a view of the valley and the river below. Georgiana could hardly restrain herself when, after her brother and Elizabeth were left alone, she was lead down the hall, past the staircase landing, and down another long grand hallway to her own accommodations, far removed from the rest of her family. She smiled in delight as each step took her further and further away from her brother’s radius. Her own rooms at Pemberley were not as private and removed.
Charlotte explained the room to Georgiana without indicating that she had given up her own accommodations. “You have a view of the front of the house, which I believe is the prettiest.” Charlotte parted the curtain and motioned Georgiana to the window.
“I see what you mean,” Georgiana agreed. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the smooth flat lawn, rows of expertly manicured hedges and a small ornamental pond.
“I will let you be then, unless there is anything I can get for you?”
Georgiana looked around the spacious, well kept room, noting the dressing table with large mir
ror, the marble mantle over a hearth that housed a crackling fire, a porcelain jug of fresh water, everywhere the clean fresh smell of lavender, which Georgiana loved. Her every need seemed to be accounted for.
“No, thank you,” she said, with a warm smile.
“Drinks will be served downstairs in the drawing room at six. Just head back down the stairs the way we came up to get there,” Charlotte said. “I will see you then.”
As she said goodbye to Charlotte and closed the door behind her, a sweet feeling of satisfaction arose within Georgiana. Bennington Park was a large house and her brother could not possibly monitor her the entire stay. On one point he was right; she did like the young Mrs. Lancaster and the fact that Fitzwilliam did not even know where she was situated in this grand house was an added treat.
She pulled off her bonnet and loosened her hair. Her silver plated hairbrush had been unpacked and laid carefully on the dressing table. She picked it up, and sat herself down on the window seat to brush her hair.
So far, from what she had seen, Bennington Park was a simply delightful setting. All the room sizes were generous, the lighting plentiful, the views from the windows showcased endless grounds dotted with majestic old oak trees gnarled with age. The whole estate was taken care of so gloriously. There was a familiarity to Bennington Park that pleased Georgiana greatly, as if she had walked these halls in some long forgotten dream. Before tonight she had not thought that this horse party was anything more than a complete and total bore. But that was then, she admitted. At present, she found herself surprisingly glad to be there.
Loud shouts and the barreling of horse’s hooves echoed from outside. Georgiana looked to see two horses galloping down the lane toward the front of the house, each rider urging his horse forward with exhilarating shouts. The horses and riders flew past the front of the house at a breathtaking clip, disappearing around the corner toward the stables. Georgiana managed to catch only a brief profile of the riders—two young men with strong jaw lines and trim builds—their aristocratic forms and joie de vivre piqued her interest. Suddenly, she decided that a house party full of handsome strangers was exactly the tonic she needed.
She wondered if Fitzwilliam would prevent her from interacting with unattached young men, were she to encounter them here? Eventually, she imagined, were she to form an attachment with a suitable young man, the truth about the incident with Wickham would have to come out—keeping the secret would seem disingenuous in such a circumstance. She shook her head and sighed. Keeping secrets was so much work. However, in regards to her past, it was the path that Fitzwilliam insisted they take.
Georgiana had refused the offer of a ladies maid so when the time came to gather downstairs, she wiggled into her blue velvet gown with the pearl trim, piled her golden hair upon her head in the latest fashion, dabbed some rose water on her pulse points, and evaluated her look in the mirror from every angle, happy with the results. Then she hesitated.
Should she, as expected, wait at the top of the stairs for her brother and Elizabeth, who would most certainly be exiting their rooms shortly, and descend together? Or, might she be bold and enter the drawing room independently? Her heart beat at the idea of escaping her brother’s shadow. Yet she knew no one in the party beyond Charlotte and her parents and that introduction had been brief. By descending alone she could be exposing herself to social embarrassment, standing alone with no one to converse with. However, the opportunity to be presented as her own person and to socialize, albeit for only a few moments, out of her brother’s watchful glare was a temptation too great to resist. Quickly she decided to stage her own, mini-rebellion against her brother’s controlling ways, signaling to him that she planned to be unpredictable.
Before she had a chance to second guess her decision she turned the doorknob and flung open the door, walking swiftly down the corridor and across the landing, descending the grand staircase with grace, her nervous yet exhilarated heart fluttering as rapidly as a hummingbird’s wings.
Chapter Seven
The Bennington Park drawing room was full of well-dressed people who looked admiringly at the blonde young lady who suddenly appeared in the doorway unescorted. Charlotte saw Georgiana immediately upon her approach and ran to greet her, pulling her into the room eagerly and rescuing her from experiencing even a moment’s social awkwardness.
Georgiana was drawn into a small group of what she considered to be surprisingly pleasant looking men, for country folk, she thought. The tall, dark young man with deep brown eyes she learned was Charlotte’s own husband Guy, and the other her brother Hugh.
She recognized them immediately as the two riders who sped past her window.
“Very pleased to meet you Miss Darcy,” the young heir said, with a slight bow. Georgiana liked the looks of this young man instantly. With his refined features, unruly head of thick sandy locks, aquiline nose and towering height, she thought it would not be a small thing to earn his favor. “And you too,” she replied, and when his blue eyes lingered on her face she felt herself suddenly tongue-tied.
“And how are you enjoying Hertfordshire?” Hugh began confidently, picking a banal yet neutral conversational starting point.
“Very much. I am getting used to the rhythms of the countryside, after my long stay in London,” she replied sweetly.
“A drink, my lady?” A servant proffered Miss Darcy a tray of small cut crystal glasses of Madeira.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, selecting a glass and taking an initial sip, happy to feel its warmth sink deep inside of her but happier still to have something to hold in her nervous hands. Guy, having himself been a recent newcomer to Hertfordshire society, sensed Georgiana’s slight anxiety and decided to inject humor into their circle.
“Let me be the first to warn you, Miss Darcy, that your hosts possess an explicit bias for their home county,” Guy explained. “Do not make the mistake of regarding any other spot in England above Hertfordshire,” he teased.
Charlotte was not having it.
“But Guy! Be reasonable! It is not peculiar or wrong-headed to prefer one’s home county above all others,” she sweetly reprimanded her husband. “I am sure she and Mr. Darcy must feel the same about Derbyshire.”
Georgiana’s moment of nerves seemed to float away, along with her fear that her opinions would not matter amongst the Meryton strangers, and she found herself eager for a break in the conversation to chime in. “Yes, I dare say Derbyshire is rich in natural beauty, but my attachment to it does not deter me from appreciating new landscapes,” she said. “I could not help but admire the countryside on our journey here. Perhaps one day I may become a Hertfordshire convert as well.”
“Oh there is no prettier place than Hertfordshire,” Charlotte said, naturally falling back into her old habit of extolling the virtues of her childhood home. “Although I am most happily settled at Ludlow Lodge there is still a charm to Hertfordshire that tugs at my heart.”
“Ah, is it not all part of England’s green and pleasant land, as the poet says?” Guy said, with the dreamy look he always got when recalling his favorite poets.
“Pray you do not become so attached to a place that you make foolish decisions based on your fear of leaving it, like Charlotte did,” Hugh said, taking another opportunity to torment his sister for her failed geographical approach to finding a husband.
Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“Excuse my horrid brother Miss Darcy. He is referring to an unfortunate short courtship I entered into with a local man, the Earl of Buckland, an innocent enough misjudgment of character on my part of which he relentlessly reminds me. Having an older brother yourself, I am sure that you have been in a similar position and will be sympathetic to my case. Pray, do tell: Does your brother enjoy reminding you of your recent follies as mine does?”
Georgiana laughed out loud in surprised agreement, thinking to herself how tightly Fitzwilliam’s nerves were wound where she was concerned, how vigilantly he investigated the society she was
exposed to, and how her very presence there that night was evidence of how little trust he had in her.
It was as if Charlotte read her mind.
“What is it with older brothers?” Charlotte continued, leaning conspiratorially toward Georgiana. “As if by virtue of being first born, and a man, they are somehow granted the right to judge our poor little lives, expecting perfection at every turn, entering our mistakes in some kind of mental log book, while at the same time escaping any blame for their own errors of pride or drink or recklessness, with no stones ever thrown at them. It is almost Biblical in its hypocrisy, isn’t it?”
Hugh stood stock still in amazement as he listened to his sister’s rant. When she finally paused to take a breath, he roared with laughter, tilting his head back and meeting Georgiana’s gaze with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Now Charlotte, please, stop! What a sorry picture you paint of me in front of our guest to whom I have just been introduced! Can I not have the courtesy of enjoying five minutes of her esteem before you regale her with my many faults? Miss Darcy, I beseech you to believe that, despite partaking in mild brotherly mischief, I am not the worst acquaintance you could make here tonight.”
Georgiana was looking in wonder between Charlotte and her brother with envy. If only she and Fitzwilliam could banter together as easily as they did. Lately, it felt as if their conversations were marked by hurt feelings and harsh words. But before she could respond Guy joined in the fun.
“Five minutes of esteem? Surely here is the most pompous man in the room! Miss Darcy, I have known the young Mr. Radcliffe since he was a wee one and I can assure you that he is indeed the worst man you will meet here tonight. You would do well to avoid his company for the duration of the party.”
Georgiana laughed in response, wondering if perhaps it was partly her own fault she took Fitzwilliam’s oversight to heart and so seriously. Perhaps she should laugh at her brother more, instead of pouting. Perhaps he exerted control over her because she allowed him to? Perhaps a different sort of girl would be carving out her own life in spite of her brother’s heavy-handed supervision?
