“Who was that chap who stormed off earlier, lovey?”
Evie did not think anyone had observed her in that uncomfortable exchange. She had watched that collector stalk out of the door and down the street, and although she was glad to see the back of him, she recalled how he had fixed her with his eyes, and she couldn’t get it out of her head. His hand had brushed hers as she had handed him her card, and the memory of it stung her between the eyes. Even now, when he was long gone, she felt unbalanced by it.
“Erm, I’m not sure, Auntie. I’ve never met him before.”
“Really? I thought you might know him.”
“No, never met him before.” It was the truth, and yet it felt like a lie. She knew that she was blushing to think of it. “I’m glad he’s gone though. He seemed really, really arrogant.”
“Nice looking though, isn’t he? And so tall…”
Chapter 6
April 2, 1820, Pemberley
My sister Lydia has been our guest these three weeks, and already she has made me most uneasy. I remind myself that, although she is foolish, she is also young and widowed, and I love her. I also love my husband, who is not at all foolish but in certain circumstances can be irritable. Balancing the two characters is a task to which, I believe, no woman can be the equal. Only this morning, Fitzwilliam and I were awakened with a shriek through the wall from Lydia’s room.
“Well, if that is the best that Lizzy can do, then I shall have to speak with her! She cannot expect me to wear such a dreary thing. She simply cannot. It is not fair. And anyway, in case you had not noticed, I am just as blessed about the chest as my sister, so there is no need for that dreadful, little panel…”
My blood pumped with embarrassment to hear her breathy protests from the next room. Beside me, Fitzwilliam’s hand reached for his forehead and his eyes closed in exasperation. I had already regretted installing Lydia in the room next door to my own. It had been in my mind that the view of the lake might soothe her, but alas, it had not. I had considered asking the servants to move her, but it seemed to be both ridiculous and an admission of defeat. It is for Lydia to behave reasonably, even in her grief. It is not for me to place her in isolation in order that we are not disturbed by her histrionics. Her voice whined away from behind the wall, and I could bear it no longer.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” asked Fitzwilliam as I leapt out of bed and began pulling on my shawl.
“I will go and speak with her, Fitzwilliam. I know what this is about, and I cannot have her being so rude to the servants or waking us with her dramatics. It is only the next-door room, and she is my sister. She has seen me in my nightclothes before.”
I knew that he was about to protest further but did not wait to hear it. His annoyance with me for leaving the chamber undressed and with my hair down was as nothing to the annoyance that he would begin to feel towards Lydia if I could not rein her in. Hair streaming and shawl trailing, I appeared in her room. She looked me squarely in the face and put down her teacup.
“Lizzy. There you are. Now, I cannot wear that thing for dinner this evening. What will Lord and Lady Matlock think? It is so dreary, and I am meeting them for the first time. You just cannot—”
“Lydia, keep your voice down. What are you doing awake at this hour? You have roused Fitzwilliam and me with all this nonsense—now be quiet.”
To this, she merely smirked.
“Well, I could not sleep, and I am not that loud. You must have particularly fine hearing. Anyway, if your husband still keeps to your bed after all these years, Lizzy…well, you should have nothing to complain of.” She laughed and glanced at the maid, Milly, who blushed and looked at her feet.
“Thank you, Milly. That will be all.”
I believe the poor girl was more than grateful to be dismissed.
“Well, there was no need for that, Lizzy. Why I am sure that the whole staff knows—”
“Lydia, that is enough! If you wake me again with these morning fits of temper, then I shall move you to the other end of the corridor. And if you are rude to the maids, then you can attend to yourself. My goodness, we have done everything to make you comfortable, but you have to start behaving like a reasonable creature.”
“Well, there is nothing reasonable about that dress, Lizzy. It is full black, and look at that thing that she has put in across the chest. I shall look like I am in holy orders!”
“You will not look anything of the sort. You will look like a respectable widow because that is what you are. I wore that dress to Rosings when Lady Catherine died, and it is lovely fabric. It was very costly, and the cut is beautiful. I have said that you can have some lace to make it more suitable for the evening. I want you to feel attractive, Lydia, but I will not have you dressing up in all colours and revealing yourself to Fitzwilliam’s relations. It is unseemly—”
“Oh, Lizzy, to hear you go on so, one would think that Wickham had only just died. It has been eight months, and I am sure that he would not like to think of me in that dreadful thing. Look at it. That style went out with the ark—and why should I be covered to the neck? If Wickham were here, he would be fighting for me to at least wear grey, Lizzy.”
Her eyes were pleading, and she thrust forward the top half of her body. It was as if we were back at Longbourn and she was a girl of fifteen. I thought in that moment of how young she actually was in mind and in body, and I could not be too harsh with her.
“Very well, I shall offer you a bargain, Lydia. But you have to keep your side, is that understood?”
“Yes, Lizzy.”
“Well. You may lower the panel by a couple of inches and have a grey sash so that it is not completely black. I have a single back pearl for your neck to dress it a bit. If you wear it like that, you will feel a little more adorned. But if I allow that, Lydia, please show a little more restraint. Especially in front of Mr. Darcy. Try to talk a little less and a little less loudly. When Lord and Lady Matlock come to dinner tonight, try to recall that they are much your elders. Can you do that for me?”
She looked to stifle a smirk but then thought the better of it.
“Yes, Lizzy, I can do that. It is a bargain. I shall not let you down.”
“Thank you. And can you try to be quieter in the mornings? You never used to get up this early at home.”
I recalled how I was always up for a walk before breakfast at Longbourn while my sisters had to be jostled out of bed. Lydia had never been a girl to be awake at the break of dawn, and I could not account for her.
“Yes, you shall not know I am here. I shall be like a widowed mouse!” She tilted her head and laughed. I gathered my shawl about my shoulders, and as I turned to leave, she bellowed from her dressing table, “But Lizzy! What about shoes?”
At length, and somehow already weary, I returned to my chamber to find an empty space in the bed in place of Fitzwilliam.
It had been, I reflected, an exhausting three weeks. Lydia, since the death of her husband, had spent four months at Longbourn with our parents and three months with Jane and Mr. Bingley at their estate at Bollington. She had, I believe, been somewhat of a trial to all of them, and I did not feel that I could resist having her as a guest any longer. Fitzwilliam had said my sister was welcome. I reasoned that it would be diverting for the girls to have their aunt Lydia present. I had not seen my sister for over two years, and mayhap I had forgotten her talent for drama. When she arrived, she hardly stopped talking for a week. Being trapped in a carriage for three days is quite against Lydia’s disposition, and she took out this deprivation on Fitzwilliam and me. She wittered in my sitting room during the day, and our nuncheon and dinner were dominated by her monologues on fashion and acquaintances. Of her late husband, she spoke at length, recalling his past comments about Pemberley and his strong connection to the Darcy family. No servant was allowed to enter the room without b
eing questioned by her on their experiences of the late Mr. Wickham and no feature of the house and garden that he had favoured was allowed to pass unremarked. I had tried not to look at Fitzwilliam’s face as he sat at the other end of the table, turning his food over with his fork.
“Hannah, do you know where the master is?” I asked when she arrived to bathe and dress me.
“Yes, madam, he went out riding directly he came downstairs.”
“Do you mean that he didn’t have any breakfast?”
“I don’t believe so, madam. I understand from his valet that he will be on estate business at nuncheon as well, so it shall be just you and Mrs. Wickham.”
I turned away slightly as I said, “I see.” I did not want even Hannah to witness the surprise on my face.
As it was, Lydia was a pleasant companion at nuncheon and throughout the afternoon. When we had eaten, we repaired to the day nursery to find Alice and Emma about a game, Frances asleep in her crib, and Nanny repairing the buttons on a smock by the light of the window. My sister and I settled down on the chaise with a girl on each lap, and I read stories that I composed myself until it was time for their afternoon tea. Nanny, Lydia, and I enjoyed tea while Anne and Emma guzzled glasses of milk. We all had cake, and Lydia was quite right when she pronounced wistfully, “What a lovely time this is!”
I did not see Fitzwilliam until shortly before dinner. I was dressed and sat at my vanity. When he came in, Hannah, who had been adjusting the sleeve on my gown, smiled, curtsied, and was gone. He paced around behind me, and the silence was like an ache in my limbs.
“I am sorry that I have been gone all day, Elizabeth. I have had a lot to attend to.”
“I understand, Fitzwilliam.” I turned on my stool and faced him, hoping he recognised I really did understand. “You will be pleased to know that Lydia has actually been very good today. After this morning, she has been much quieter. She and I played in the nursery with the girls, and she was lovely with them. She has calmed down a little, and she has promised me that she will be on her best behaviour this evening.”
I touched his hand and saw his body relax. He smiled.
“Good. Thank you. Shall we ask her to accompany us downstairs?”
“She is already down, Fitzwilliam. She told me she was ready and going down about an hour ago.”
When Fitzwilliam and I arrived in the drawing room, we found Lydia plumped down in the corner with a miniature of Wickham in one hand and a small glass of wine in the other. Dim light fell on the jet of her borrowed gown, and she looked up at us only briefly before returning her eyes to his likeness. The picture, which had been commissioned by my husband’s father many years previously, had been consigned to a place out of sight until—with Wickham’s death and Lydia’s visit—I had retrieved it. I had regretted doing so several times although I was gratified that, when Lydia saw us, she quickly put it aside and made her greetings. She did not get up, which seemed a little odd. For all of her complaints, my gown suited her, and Milly had dressed her hair in a new arrangement. Altogether, she looked rather pretty. When James approached me with a small glass of wine upon a silver tray, I wondered whether I imagined the strange look that he gave me. As it was, there was no time to ponder it further when my husband’s aunt and uncle were announced.
“Lord and Lady Matlock.”
The door opened, and in they swanned, looking every inch the grand, old people they are. Happy greetings were exchanged, and Lord Matlock complained to Fitzwilliam of the road whilst Lady Matlock focused on us ladies.
“Oh, Elizabeth, how slender you are! How do you do it with three babies coming one after the other. It is quite remarkable. And this must be Mrs. Wickham. I am pleased to meet you…”
Lady Matlock smiled and, when Lydia said nothing and did not curtsy, looked about in an embarrassed fashion. Silence fell, and my aunt Matlock blinked slowly. The clock ticked, and the footmen’s soles clicked in the hall. I could bear it no longer and gave a slight tug on my sister’s arm at which she seemed to remember herself.
“It is an honour to meet you, Lady Matlock. I am Elizabeth’s sister, Mrs. Wickham.”
“Mrs. Wickham, I hope that you have been enjoying your stay at Pemberley? It is so beautiful at this time of year.”
Lydia smiled but said nothing. Just as I thought she was about to speak, she let out a hiccup followed by a giggle, and my mind raced to account for her demeanour.
“It is quite lovely, Lady Matlock, although I am not much of one for rambling about the countryside as my sister is. I would much rather dance. Do you enjoy a dance, Lady Matlock?”
With this, she peered at Fitzwilliam’s aunt, who is nearly sixty, but did not wait for a response.
“I do, but being a widow, I declare that I have not had one dance these eight months. I shall be glad to dance again when I am allowed, I can tell you. My husband died a hero, Lady Matlock. A hero. What a thing that is to have a hero for a husband. I cannot imagine anything more splendid—except him being alive, of course. My goodness, did you know that my husband actually grew up at Pemberley? Yes. He had such affection for this place, and can we not all see why? I take great comfort thinking of him running about the gardens as a boy and building camps in the woods…”
Words streamed from her lips, and I thought they would never stop. In fact, not only did they not cease, they grew louder and more insistent. Her hands fluttered around and everything about her was distracting. It was like watching a horseless carriage thunder down a steep hill. Lord Matlock had stopped speaking of the road, and he and Fitzwilliam were turned to us in silence. My husband fixed me with a grave look and, with his gaze, indicated Lydia’s wine glass, now left on the small table beside her chair. At the moment I realised her predicament, Lydia seemed to reach the apogee of her confidence.
“I hear, Lady Matlock, that you have an unmarried son who is a colonel of the regiment. Is that not the case? How marvellous. There is nothing like regimentals on a man, is there?”
I knew that I had to stop her.
“Erm, Lydia. Maybe we should allow Lady Matlock to sit and gather herself. She has only just arrived, and it is a long journey from Matlock.”
Matlock to Pemberley is only ten miles of good road, but as to that, any port in a storm, thought I.
“Yes, of course, Lizzy. Why, my journey here from Hertfordshire was such a trial. I can well sympathise. It took me a full three days to recover myself! Although, I must say that Mr. Darcy’s carriage was vastly comfortable indeed. Mama was so envious to see me disappearing in it, I can tell you…”
“Aunt Mary, is the weather fine at Matlock? We have been kept in by rain here.” I scrambled for a topic, and in my panic, the weather was the only one I found.
“It has been reasonably fair…”
“Oh, but it is so cold here, do you not think so, Lizzy? It is far colder here than ever it is in Hertfordshire at this time of year. I wonder that Lizzy manages, for we were never so chilly as girls. She must wear a great deal under her gowns to guard against the wind, for it is bitter!”
“Lydia!” I moved towards her as one might approach a horse who had gone rogue.
“Well, it is true, Lizzy, and I know you think so too, for did you not write to Mama when you were first married that you were cold?”
With this, Fitzwilliam turned to the fire, his body a rage of tension.
“No, I did not say that, Lydia. I have always been more than comfortable in Derbyshire. It is my home, and I love it.”
She gave me a dismissing look with which I was well familiar before engaging poor Lady Matlock once more.
“Now, Lady Matlock, it is such a pleasure to meet you at last, for Lizzy is always speaking of you. I am glad that you are come to supper, or I might have thought she had made you up! Now, my sister tells me that your younger son is frightful handsome and
extremely agreeable company. Well, I should like to meet him, for I do not see why Lizzy should get all the amiable gentlemen.”
Desperate times, I concluded, called for desperate measures.
“Lydia, I need to have a word with Mrs. Reynolds before supper. Would you mind coming with me please?”
“Whatever for?”
I took her arm.
“Well, I shall tell you on the way. Please excuse me, Lady Matlock. I shall be back directly.”
Lydia looked confused, but I could tell from her eyes that she was not about to refuse. If I thought, however, that the evening had thus far gone badly, worse was to come. For when we went to move towards the door, my sister’s grip upon my arm tightened, her slippered feet stumbled, and she nearly fell.
“Lydia!”
“Oh! My goodness. I am sorry. I am all right, Lizzy.”
“I think you may be feeling poorly. I shall see you to your chamber…”
When we were in the hall and beyond the closed door of the drawing room, I am ashamed to say that I almost dragged her upstairs.
“Do not pull on me so, Lizzy! Stop it. I do not feel very well.”
“Of course, you do not feel very well. What were you thinking? You are not used to drink, Lydia, nor should you be!” I said when we were safely behind the closed door of her chamber.
She sank down on the edge of her bed and groaned. I turned to Milly, who had joined us at my request.
“Milly, Mrs. Wickham is feeling unwell. She will not be able to join Mr. Darcy and me for dinner. Please, can you assist her to bed and bring her tea and buttered toast in case she becomes hungry in the night? Thank you. Lydia, I suggest that you will be better off in bed. I will visit you in the morning.”
I did not wait for her to reply but turned on my heel, clicked the door closed, and departed.
The Elizabeth Papers Page 5
