by Anne Morris
"Miss Bennet, I heard you have met my sister, Leticia," said Mrs. Nash. "I hope you had an enjoyable time in Scarborough, though winter is not the best time to visit." Everyone was sitting together in the largest drawing room after their meal and continuing all of the many topics that they had begun over the luncheon.
"I did, there was much to do there, and Mrs. Peterson was a gracious hostess," answered Elizabeth with perfect politeness. If part of her mind wandered to other encounters she had experienced in Scarborough, she knew she could not share those.
"I am glad that my little town was able to afford you its best while you were there. And Leticia is an exquisite hostess; she made an excellent match with Mr. Peterson. He is infinitely well connected, and has done much for his constituents. Once one is elected, it almost becomes a permanent post if one does a decent job of it," Mrs. Nash sipped her coffee.
"He seemed a well-informed man," said Elizabeth.
"He has excellent support. Leticia does a great deal for him; having a wife at his side as his hostess, and his secretary, Mr. Wolton-Fane, did a lot for him too. I am sure Mr. Peterson will certainly miss him."
Elizabeth could not help but look startled. "Did Mr. Wolton-Fane leave his post?" Elizabeth could not help but ask.
"Have you met him as well? Quite the dashing and handsome gentleman, is he not? Yes, he was in London for some time this spring, but is home, and has secured a seat as he has followed Mr. Peterson's lead. I thought he might be bringing my friend, Beatrice Springer, home with him as his bride—she has thirty thousand pounds you know, but is not the handsomest girl. But he went home unmarried and ran for election and secured his seat."
Elizabeth had to still the feelings of unrest and uneasiness inside of her, "that is good news, Mrs. Nash. I know that was what he wished for." She took in an unexpected breath. "Have I offered you congratulations on your marriage? I would be remiss if I have not. I wish you very happy. Mr. Nash appears to be a most excellent gentleman."
Mrs. Caroline Nash accepted Elizabeth Bennet's warm wishes about her marriage. Elizabeth found it odd for the two of them to be speaking in terms of some friendliness and to be speaking about Mrs. Nash's marriage. Elizabeth had sometimes suspected that the former Caroline Bingley might have designs on Mr. Darcy, but that had been a mistake on Elizabeth's part, and they spoke then of all the excellent qualities of Mr. Nash.
• • •
Elizabeth had never seen a finer estate. There was nothing in Hertfordshire that she could compare with Pemberley. It was certainly the largest estate she had ever visited, and she recalled an evening, the previous fall, when Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Nash—Caroline Bingley then—discussed their love of Derbyshire, and Elizabeth had to agree that it was a lovely part of England.
The house was a large stone building situated well and backed up against some delightful woods which Elizabeth never failed to lose herself in every day. A lake was situated in front, and had been adorned with some pathways and ornamental gardens next to the house, but they gave way to a more natural setting which also tempted her, and was often where she strolled in the afternoons when no one else thought to leave the house, complaining of the heat. A stream ran through the property as well, and all of these landscapes called to her, and she sought them out, attempting to discern all of their secrets. The little hidden bridge that crossed the stream, where in wound its way up into the woods, became a favorite destination.
She wondered if Mr. Darcy's invitation to the entire Bennet family had not been to show her, in some small way, what she had given up by refusing him: his fine house and this magnificent estate. Elizabeth often felt on edge, however, and ill-at-ease walking about the grounds, attempting to curl up with a book, or even in speaking to her own family. She could not understand Mr. Darcy's motivation in inviting her family—and her—to Pemberley. He was content and comfortable, friendlier than she had ever seen him, which she would naturally have expected as it was his home; his manners were relaxed and engaging. He spoke with less ease towards her, though, and she naturally knew that their last conversation in Meryton weighed between them whenever they sat too close together in a room.
They were always in company; and as in Hertfordshire, she made an attempt to never be alone with him. It was a much more difficult task at Pemberley where there were fewer people to rely on to chaperone her, and where the beautiful grounds tempted her everyday—her love of walking, she knew, was well known to Mr. Darcy. If he should wish to speak to her alone, he could certainly have sought her out.
Elizabeth often cajoled Mary to walk with her, but she, like Jane and Lydia, did not care overly much for extended rambles in the park or the woods. Mary seemed to allot a certain amount of time and effort into each of her accomplishments, including exercise. Her philosophy stated quite boldly when Elizabeth suggested a five-mile walk one morning, "exertion should be in proportion to what is required." Her pianoforte practice, and her drawing, and her reading must not suffer from her seeking too much exercise. They settled for a mile walk instead.
Elizabeth had, at least, the company of Simon, who was quite happy to traverse the Pemberley woods with her for half a day at a time, as the woods afforded all sorts of adventures to his fervid imagination. Longbourn had no such tempting woods, and they both delighted in the newness of exercise in such a landscape.
The stay at Pemberley moved by, and the Nashes were to return for a three-day visit so that Caroline Nash and Mr. Bingley might say goodbye before both the Bennets and the Bingleys returned to Hertfordshire. Elizabeth began to count the days before she was to go home, and when Friday arrived and the Nash carriage pulled up to the front door once more, she was pleased to consider that on Monday, she and her family would be leaving for Longbourn.
• • •
There was a third person in the carriage with Mr. and Mrs. Nash, a Mr. Powlett, an old friend of Mr. Nash, who had been invited to come by Mr. Darcy when Mr. Nash said his friend's visit had conflicted with the proposed stay at Pemberley.
Mrs. Bennet felt her heart beating with excitement as she eyed this new gentleman. The cut of his clothes proclaimed him to be a gentleman—he dressed just as well as Mr. Darcy did—and if he was a friend to Mr. Nash, he most certainly had to be a gentleman. She immediately set out to discover where his estate was, and how rich he might be.
She glanced at Elizabeth and Mary who, knowing there were to be guests, had at least changed their frocks in anticipation of the visitors and an extended luncheon. He might do for either child, but he looked older than their usual suitors. Mr. Nash was certainly older, in his forties for sure, but this gentleman seemed to not have crested forty. He had regular features, was not handsome, with dark hair but blue eyes that she admired more than she cared to admit. It reminded her of Bennet, and how much she had admired his blue eyes when they were courting. But she was a woman with children that she must consider, so she needed to not be admiring gentlemen, however, and think of their potential as partners for her own daughters!
He would be a good match for Elizabeth, but there was only two days before they went away and that daughter was not likely to be cooperative. She sighed, and looked at Mary. Perhaps Mary was not so very plain and Mr. Powlett was older. Mrs. Bennet smiled and hoped that there was not to be any sort of precedence for seating at the luncheon, and she might engineer the two of them to sit together.
• • •
Georgiana Darcy was in a sour mood as she had lost the attentions of her friend for a couple of days while Lydia showed Jane Bingley around Pemberley and heard all about Mrs. Bingley's travels. Though Lydia invited Georgiana to be a member of their party, Georgiana had not been up to joining her friend and Mrs. Bingley. Then her friend's family had come, and Lydia had insisted on repeating the experience with them.
Georgiana was also unhappy as there had been no response from George Wickham to the two letters she sent him in Brighton, and she feared he had forgotten her, found another young lady he liked better—a fact tha
t Lydia pointed out might be true, as he had flitted from one lady to another back in Meryton.
So Georgiana had, she felt, reasons for being unhappy. She was displeased with the new visitors and with the Nashes' appearance at their doorstep. Though she had been happy, at first, to see Miss Bingley again, something had changed, it was as if there was a difference now that Caroline was a married lady—she was Mrs. Nash now, not Miss Bingley—and Georgiana was still a maiden. Mrs. Nash was less doting and attentive to her. Lydia had also seemed intrigued with the lady—Lydia who already had less time for her because her family was visiting, and Georgiana thought it all so unfair.
Lydia lived with her family and was meant to be visiting with Miss Darcy, but Lydia was captivated to hear the stories of Mrs. Bingley's trip to the Lake District, and to hear all about Mrs. Nash's trip to Scotland. Her friend had turned down their usual morning ride to stay at the house to await the Nashes' return, as if she were close friends with Caroline now, when Georgiana had known her longer, as long as her brother had known the Bingley family.
Georgiana sat by herself in their special room, the North parlor, feeling sorry for herself, and much put upon, and it was there that Mrs. Younge found her.
"Dearest Georgiana, how do you fare?" asked her companion. Mrs. Younge had been absent frequently with all of the visitors taking precedence; her need to play the hostess had been happily usurped by Mrs. Bennet, who arranged activities for them in the evenings, though Mrs. Younge did some of the hidden aspects of being a hostess, such as working with the staff.
Miss Darcy did not answer, her novel, School of Virtue, lay open and uninviting next to her. It had not held her interest as much as others had. The last volume of Seduction, which she had been waiting fervently for, had yet to be available at the lending library.
"I have something for you," and Mrs. Younge held out a letter. Georgiana sat up with interest; her eyes shining so much there almost might be tears in them. "I wonder if Mr. Darcy is considering going to London in the fall?" asked Mrs. Younge, as she stepped over to hand a single sheet of paper to Georgiana. "And do not forget to burn it, once you have read it," she patted the young lady's cheek with a smile, then departed.
My goddess, the colonel keeps me busy as the threat of Napoleon still looms large, despite the more heartening news from Spain. I rarely have time to do much besides soldiering, but you are always in my thoughts, dearest. There are times when the colonel sends me up to London, and I wonder if you will be there in the Fall? It is a day's journey from Brighton to London, and we might affect a meeting. I long to see your beautiful face again, and to tell you again, how that face enchants me. G.W.
Georgiana frowned, and then swallowed, a bitterness on her tongue. It was a short and disappointing letter. She had wanted sweet and poetic words telling her that she was beautiful, and that he loved her! She supposed he had to be discreet in case, somehow, their letters were intercepted or read by others. Mrs. Younge had obviously read the note.
She would not be leaving Pemberley for months. Fitzwilliam was to stay for the shooting, and then through the holidays. He might, however, go to visit the Bingleys and leave her in Derbyshire before the shooting season began. Georgiana wondered if Wickham might be induced to come to Pemberley to see her—that was actually a good idea. She did not understand why not? It was simple, just a coach ride from Brighton to Derbyshire. He had, after all, been born there, and had talked to her about how much he loved Pemberley and should love to see it again, but that Fitzwilliam would never let him visit. Georgiana would write to him that in September, he should consider coming north while her brother was away.
That bitterness, an acute sourness on her tongue, lingered though as she considered their guests, and the dinner that evening. There had been that new gentleman, Mr. Powell, or something or other, who had come with Caroline and her husband. He was old and ugly; she thought she saw wrinkles along the edges of his eyes, and he seemed to be more tanned than most men should be. He also seemed to eye Miss Bennet a great deal. No doubt, because she had a womanly body. Georgiana recalled their day in the bathing machine and eying Elizabeth Bennet's form as they had changed clothes. What man would not admire such a body?
Georgiana continued to sulk as she held the short note from Wickham in her hand. Mr. Powell would probably admire the other sister, Mary, as well. Mary was petite and dark, but seemed to be blessed with the same womanly curves. Georgiana did not understand Fitzwilliam inviting all of these people. He had not seemed so interested in society before, and it had quite ruined her own fun with Lydia. She looked at the note. She would not burn it—there was no fire in the hearth anyways—and now would look forward to seeing George Wickham in the fall, when Fitzwilliam went away.
• • •
Given that she had expected to suffer through her final days at Pemberley, Elizabeth had been pleased with the addition of Mr. Powlett to their little party. To even out their numbers, and ensure there were not thirteen at the table, Miss Simnel was invited down to dine with them. Elizabeth was seated between the governess, and the new guest. She found him a pleasing man, saying everything that was correct. He was, perhaps a little reserved, though he was new to their company. He had not the cheerful manners of Mr. Bingley, but neither did he have the reserved, ones of Mr. Darcy, who sat at the end of the table, the master of the house.
Whenever she turned her eyes beyond Mr. Powlett to look at Mr. Darcy, she felt that he was watching her, as if examining the way she interacted with this new acquaintance, and Elizabeth could not help but blush at certain memories of their encounters, and his accusations about the way she interacted with gentleman. It made her self-conscious, and she fell mute. Elizabeth found herself turning more to Miss Simnel on her left, and conversing with her, and leaving Mr. Powlett to chat with his host.
• • •
The gentlemen lingered over their port, but the ladies enjoyed hearing about Mrs. Bingley's and particularly, Mrs. Nash's details from their weddings: the wedding breakfasts, who had attended, and detailed descriptions, in particular, of the lace on Mrs. Nash's gown. Mrs. Bennet considered she had never attended a wedding at St. George's in London—actually she was not sure if she had ever set foot in the church—and she wondered if any of her daughters would ever be married in such an illustrious place.
Mrs. Bennet glanced at Mary, who seemed just as fascinated as the other ladies to hear of Mrs. Nash's wedding, and the mother was pleased to consider that this daughter was not so focused on accomplishments that she would never use those accomplishments to secure a husband. She looked over at her oldest daughter who had enjoyed the benefit of sitting next to Mr. Powlett at dinner, while Mary had only been seated between Mr. Bingley and Mr. Nash. She would need to whisper to Mary to take every advantage to sit next to the new gentleman. She had been assured by Mrs. Nash that he was single, though a widower (having lost his wife many years before) and did indeed have a decent estate worth between three and four thousand a year.
A rumbling of voices announced the five men approaching, and Mrs. Bennet stood and hurried over to whisper to Mary to be at her most attractive to Mr. Powlett, then she moved to ensure that there was a seat free next to her middle child. She had, however, left an empty chair open next to Elizabeth by vacating her own, and Mr. Powlett took that seat. The mother groaned then, as she watched the gentleman speak to her oldest child with an ease that she thought quite like that of her son-in-law, Mr. Bingley. Perhaps he would be easy to land; perhaps he was in need of a wife; there was no son, and he would need an heir.
Twenty-Three
—
An Encounter
Mr. Darcy was to lead the entire party on an extended tour of the park the next day. The weather had never been finer, and Elizabeth relaxed the worries that knotted her insides. She was close to her final goal; their journey home to Longbourn was but two days away, and walking the grounds of Pemberley had become her favorite occupation. To accommodate those who were not the best of wal
kers, there were dog carts to meet them at certain locations, and a picnic awaited them at the end.
She lingered behind the group noting the way there were pairings of people in twos and threes—Lydia and Georgiana had their arms around each other, Mrs. Nash had a firm arm on her husband's as did Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth watched how Simon ran ahead, then returned to speak to Mr. Bennet or one of his family. Curiosity beat in her chest when Simon ran over to Mr. Darcy, and he took their host's hand in his own, his small face grinning, and he spoke in that youthful and earnest way about his delight of the woods, and of the day, and of some game his mind had invented. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry at such a picture.
"Lizzy, hurry up," said Mary, turning back to Elizabeth and holding out her hand. Elizabeth quickened her steps to take the offered hand, and they walked on, listening to their host speak about the woods, the various plants, and the variety of trees to be found there. He spoke of the adventures he had had as a young boy, which delighted Simon. Simon so often played at soldiering, that knights, and King Arthur, or Richard the Lionheart, were a new measure of play. He listened with wide eyes and open ears when Mr. Darcy told him stories of him and his cousins playing such games in those woods.
Their picnic luncheon was phenomenal. The party had circled through the woods and then came back south along the estate. but up a little rise so that they could look down on it with the lake at their feet, Pemberley House over on the right. Beautiful rugs had been spread out among some beeches which gave indifferent shade, and required the ladies to use their parasols, but the setting more than made up for the lack of covering.
