At Last: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Page 32
Lydia frowned and looked down at the reins in her hands, tightened them, then let go of them and allowed them to fall loosely, sitting back a little more confidently in her seat. Anna and Paulette had a father who was in trade, but their mother, Mrs. Gardiner, was a gentleman's daughter. She thought they had just as much right to be treated fairly and courteously as she, though she held her tongue and said nothing in reply.
"I believe I will try a canter," said Lydia, and kicked Buttons' flanks with her heels; Georgiana's encouraging words made her smile as they rode on.
• • •
Darcy had been surprised how little he saw the two girls. When he did encounter them, they eagerly spoke to him of all their little adventures and assured him of their happiness in each other, and that they had sufficient activities to keep them occupied. Georgiana was, apparently, teaching Lydia to ride. The closeness of being able to be with each other in the same house afforded his sister every happiness and, for that, Darcy was grateful.
By the first full week in July, the girls had developed a routine with daily rides. Lydia being an indifferent horsewoman meant that she rode an old nag in the Pemberley stables. There were almost daily trips to the local town of Lambton to shop, and especially to visit the lending library to obtain novels to read. There was even a weekly trip in the carriage (with Mrs. Younge to chaperone) to the large town of Blythe which was almost two hours away. There was time in various rooms in the house, at the pianoforte singing duets, or in the North parlor, which Georgiana had decided was their special room, for just the two of them, where they spent most afternoons enjoying tea, and each other's company.
Darcy considered Lydia Bennet as she moved about the halls of his home. She was still as silly as he had found her in Scarborough and back in Meryton; she had, however, just turned sixteen, having had her birthday pass just after she had come to Derbyshire. Lydia was still so very young, with a high-spirited nature and friendliness; he often was pleased their interactions were limited to the evenings, or at breakfast if the ladies rose with sufficient time to find him at the table.
Darcy did notice, though—he had to concede—that she was not as ignorant as he had once considered her. One of those frequent errands that she and Georgiana pursued in Lambton were trips to the lending library there, and if she could not find a novel to read, she was sure enough to find another type of book to amuse her. He had come across her in the Pemberley library—looking at the pictures in a history volume, to be sure—but she had been lost in thought at discovering some past world or civilization, and was not always discussing bonnets with his sister. That she read, even if they were novels, held weight in his estimation.
He wondered that the two friends did not run out of topics to discuss, but they never did. Once or twice, the two sported sour faces when they sat down at supper, as if there had been a squabble at some point during the day, but by the following morning it was always mended. His interactions with the two were most often limited to the evenings—the meal and conversation afterward—a small, mostly quiet, family party.
Darcy was surprised at the pleasantness of it; he had not known such contentedness, had not felt such happiness at home with his own family circle before. It had been years since there had been a sense of family at Pemberley, ten years or more. In years past, during his summer stays there, he had friends come to stay, but Georgiana had often been at school, or had been sent away because she had not been out. Now, the sister and brother could enjoy conversation. Darcy began to understand her more and something grew, some sense of comfort, contentedness, and happiness he had not felt when he had held house parties with his friends, which was a more cursory sort of enjoyment, when his friends were around him, it was all games and society, but there was no depth to it, no fulfillment.
Mrs. Younge joined them in the evenings, but the companion was often silent, bringing her workbag and sitting next to a lamp lost in her embroidery, without offering much to any potential conversation. Darcy also realized how little he truly knew about the woman, this widow he had hired to be his sister's companion. He wondered if people considered anything untoward occurring between him and Mrs. Younge. She was older than him, past thirty, but still young, and not so aged as to be considered matronly. That thought gave him pause, and he considered that having a larger company of people at Pemberley might not be a bad idea.
Bingley and Jane had dutifully attended Caroline Bingley and Mr. Nash's wedding in London, and then headed to the north to enjoy a wedding trip to the Lake District. Darcy had not heard from his friend on this trip—he did not except to—but knew that they were to return to Netherfield in the middle part of July. Since Derbyshire was on the way home for them, he decided to invite his friend to stop and visit—it would make a nice break from staying at inns for the young married couple. But that was just one couple, perhaps he should invite the Bennet sisters to join their youngest, Lydia, for a week or two, to greet their married sister and to be able to hear about her wedding trip?
• • •
Mr. Bennet stared at the letter before him. His first instinct, as with most correspondence, was to set it aside once he read it, and to let it stew in his mind while he determined the best solution or response. However, when one is invited to a place on a particular date, it did not give one leave to brew all of the possible scenarios of the event beforehand, so he could anticipate his days, and not be taken by surprise. He knew he was reckoned by many as lazy, but knew in his own mind that he had to know what to expect about an event or an invitation in order not to feel panicked or uncomfortable. He was pleased his son showed no signs of being as shy as he was in society, but had, by everyone's accounts, enjoyed his time away in Scarborough. The highlight being his time with Captain Gage, and the engaging, even shocking, stories Simon loved to relate.
He did not really know this Mr. Darcy well to know why the man had invited him and his entire family to Pemberley for a short summer visit. The man had taken away his youngest daughter for the summer, and for that, he was pleased, as Lydia was the loudest child. But here was a letter suggesting a short visit by the entire family at the end of the month rather than simply sending a footman and maid to retrieve that child.
Mrs. Bennet had talked to him about their time away—and at length—and he had caught many references to their time with the Darcy family, so he supposed there had been some growing intimacy between the families that he had not noticed when Mr. Darcy was in Meryton in the spring. His wife had lamented that their oldest had seemed to be on good terms with this man, and yet they did not seem inclined towards the altar. Mr. Bennet wondered if this Mr. Darcy was wishing to rectify that, and that was one of the hidden reasons for asking the entire family to come. Lizzy was, for sure, his favorite daughter, and it pained him that she had not yet found a partner in life. Such a great man as Mr. Darcy might be an appropriate one to pass her hands off to; he would certainly be a prize to carry away, if Lizzy could manage it.
Bennet could well imagine what the Pemberley library might look like, and it might be a pleasant enough trip for him; the man had to have a French cook too. For the first time in years, Mr. Bennet put down a letter, picked up a sheet, and wrote a return response without getting up from his seat, consulting his wife, or setting the missive aside for further consideration.
• • •
Brighton was a grand place. He had made almost a year's pay in gambling with other, far less-experienced soldiers who were all swagger and arrogance when it came to card playing. One thing he had learned early on was to not drink when he played to win. He had to accept a drink if someone offered to pay, and it was rude not to swallow it down, but Wickham did not drink to the point of blindness when it came to winning at cards.
Thoughts of Georgiana faded as he had money in-hand, and he also had no true idea of how to affect an elopement if she was tied to her home and living under the thumb of her brother. She had sent him—through Mrs. Younge—the most ridiculous note, pages long (and she h
ad made him pay for the damned postage) all lovesick, affected, the sentiments of a child. He had been torn between burning the ridiculous romantic words, and holding onto them for future blackmail. But there was little privacy in the corps, so anticipating that there would be others, he had tossed the words into the fire, forgotten them, and went to seek far more appropriate female company.
• • •
Elizabeth had been confounded to hear of the plans for the entire family to go to Pemberley for what was ostensibly a house party, though there did not seem to be anyone else visiting besides the Bennet family, even Mary seemed to be looking forward to the trip.
She was surprised that her parents were so eager to take up this offer, and that even her father seemed to desire this visit, when she knew he never left the confines of his bookroom. He mentioned one morning, with a rather uncharacteristic smile, about the prospects that he envisioned for the Pemberley library. Mrs. Bennet, of course, imagined a full-blown house party, even though they were not given to understand that anyone else besides their own family was to come. But society and visiting were what she enjoyed. Having been disappointed with Elizabeth losing Reverend Tiploft, she had hopes again that, perhaps, Mr. Darcy had designs on Elizabeth after all.
Mrs. Bennet gave Elizabeth instructions as to what to pack, and encouraged her to be on her best behavior when it came to their host, as she felt that Elizabeth had been rather cool to him in May. Elizabeth wondered that her mother had had any time to think of anything else but wedding clothes, and the preparations for Jane, to notice that she had been studiously, but she had hoped slyly, avoiding that man's company.
She often went over their meeting that day, and though it had been like him to ask such a question, or put such a statement to her about Simon's parentage; she did not truly understand him—his motivation that morning—as much as she had on so many occasions attempted to sketch his character. His questions about Charlotte Lucas, which he claimed as 'mere curiosity' had been the work of reasoning and deduction. He was clever, obviously, that he had deduced from certain clues that Charlotte was not Lady Lucas' daughter. There had to have been some clue that had led him to deduce her own secret, and which led him to confront her about it.
Elizabeth supposed, given he had never again spoken to her of Charlotte's past, that Mr. Darcy would be discreet with her secret. But to have such an officious and arrogant man uncover that secret made her blush with both shame and anger. She was mortified that he knew, and she would forever wonder if he would reveal it. If she followed her aunt's advice, and allowed herself to love again, would he reveal her secret to prevent her marrying? He had offered for her once before, and they had ended their last meeting on such an odd note, his meaning seemed to imply he wished to see her still, associate with her again, but at what level, and would he speak up if she was to marry? Would he speak up out of jealousy, or some notion of honesty, or out of some other motivation?
She had never looked forward to a journey less.
Twenty-Two
—
Pemberley
Fitzwilliam Darcy had never really cared for anyone beyond his own family. His upbringing had been such that though he had been taught what was right, in a large part he had been given wide latitude in how he judged others and their actions. He always thought his own actions above reproach, and he had a strong sense of his place in the world, which meant a place above others, almost to wish to think meanly of others, of their sense and worth as compared to his own. Like a moth to a flame, however, he found himself coming back to Elizabeth Bennet, though he tried so hard to forget her, or to at least not have her invade his thoughts and his private moments.
He had been so angry with her rejection of him in Scarborough, and had not attended to her remonstrations about his manners and actions. It had been as he was allowing her points some merit that his mind had led him to discover this illicit secret that still concerned him. Before knowing that secret, he had been thinking of the loveliness of Elizabeth Bennet and all she could offer him as a wife and companion. He was not sure what concerned him more, her having loved another man, or having borne that man's child, but he was not sure how to think of her any more.
He sat inside his study, despite a beautiful day calling to him, and considered the women he knew. For a number of years he had used Caroline Bingley as his model: she was handsome, had a good fortune, and decent connections. He could never claim to love her, but he had never truly considered loving her to be a priority. She had been a sort of ideal of that handsome woman who knew how to run a household, set a good table, and host a good party. But he had been faithful to her as his ideal. That note from his friend, Bingley, had been clear, however; she had not wanted him. She was Mrs. Nash now.
Caroline's rejection of him had been oblique; Elizabeth's had been outright. He considered the other women, those young women whose attention he had to suffer through in Scarborough, whose vacant smiles and deference to him often made the evenings long, and which made him wish to never be done with his port after a meal. The officious attention, the false laughter, but no true conversation from them—looking only at him for his approval of them, as though wares on a shelf to be admired, it had been wearing. He had been glad to have left the society of such women behind.
He recalled Miss Church, and the incident at his dinner party; she had had the audacity to switch place cards with Miss Bennet at the table, so he had found himself with the company of Phoebe Church and not Elizabeth Bennet through a three course meal. He knew it was Miss Church who had switched places as he had asked Mrs. Younge about it, who had assured him that she had placed Miss Bennet next to him as he had requested.
He wondered then about his own manners and actions that the women—women whose society he valued—did not value him and had rejected him in various ways, but that the women who irritated him, sought him out.
Darcy considered for the first time, that his own manners and actions truly needed to be taken into account, and he looked at himself and within himself. It was a difficult proposition as he was not a man used to laying his own actions out to be judged; even out for him to consider, or to re-think.
But Darcy could not keep on another twenty-eight years (almost twenty-nine) in the world with the same outlook. His manners were wanting. To be worthy of a woman, a decent woman, he must change. Change, however, was not easy to affect even if he wished for it. He knew his temper was likely to still be an issue for him, and he would need to work hard to control it; he could be quick to judge situations, but if he was to be worthy of an intelligent and decent woman to consider as a wife—and he thought about what a rosy picture that would be, that domestic scene—he would need to change.
In a way, he felt as if he had not known himself until Elizabeth Bennet had rejected him, but like a breath blowing on coals, she had breathed new life into him, caused a tiny flame to appear on the embers inside, and he knew he could effect change.
• • •
He had written to the post office in Kendall, knowing that was the best place to contact his friend Bingley. He had then been concerned when he had not heard back for many days, but finally Darcy received a warm letter stating that yes, of course, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley would love to break their trip at Pemberley before returning to Netherfield.
The Bingleys arrived on a Sunday, and Lydia exclaimed with surprise at seeing her sister. There was such noise in the great entrance hall as had not been heard there for a long time, and that whole day and the next, were insufficient for the two sisters to talk and to share news. Darcy was pleased to see his friend, whom he could not believe could be more radiant and cheerful than he normally was, but his bride and the wedding trip to the Lakes had met every expectation.
The Bennets arrived two days later, and then the halls of Pemberley were filled with the additional voices of laughter, excitement, and happiness as the Bennets exclaimed with surprise and joy at seeing Jane and her groom there to greet them when they arrived. Darcy congratu
lated himself about his cleverness at engineering the meeting, and received their many thanks for allowing all of them to have this little holiday.
• • •
They had a number of days of good meals and long walks, taking in the beautiful grounds of Pemberley. Mr. Bennet and Mary enjoyed perusing the contents of the library. If Mrs. Bennet was disappointed that it was not a proper house party, she did not say so, though Elizabeth could tell the lack of any other single gentleman was a concern to her.
Despite her instructions to Elizabeth to dress carefully, and to be gracious to Mr. Darcy, it seemed that they were to be cool and indifferent towards each other—a fact that even her mother appeared to notice in their first days there. Mrs. Bennet had got it into her head that he wished to pay further attentions to Elizabeth, so was just as disappointed in Mr. Darcy's disinterest in Elizabeth, as she was in the lack of other guests. All of that was to change.
On Friday, a carriage rolled up the long expanse of Pemberley drive. Elizabeth watched it moving over the gravel as she, Jane, and Mary returned from a walk in the woods.
"I wonder who has come to call," said Mary, "the horses are post so it is not someone local."
"I believe…" began Jane, "I think it is Mr. Nash's carriage. Mr. and Mrs. Nash went to Scotland after their wedding. I believe they have come to call. Charles wrote to Caroline to say we were to stop here for a fortnight."
"Where is Mr. Nash's estate?" asked Elizabeth.
"It is in Leicestershire, so it is possible for them to break their trip here," said Jane, "on their way home to their own estate."
It was Mr. and Mrs. Nash. They were on their way to his estate, Forneaux, which lay about twenty miles away, just over the Leicestershire border. They had missed the proper hours for calling, but they were, after all, family, and invited to stay for luncheon. Tales were shared back and forth of their time in Scotland, and of the Bingleys time in the Lake District, and even of the Bennet family's time in Scarborough.