by J P Christy
“May I keep those, Papa?”
“These? These are nothing.”
“To me, they are something.”
With a pleased smile, Mr. Bennet gave her both his drawings and the sketchbook. Gesturing at the small table between the room’s two windows, he said, “The light is good there for much of the day.” Henceforth, the little table was always clear of clutter so Kitty could draw.
≈≈≈
May 16, 2018
After a tedious journey from Rosings, two coaches and a small wagon containing excess luggage and favorite furnishings stopped at the portico of Kesteven Place in Bath. In the first and grandest carriage rode Lady Catherine, her maid, and her butler. In the older of the two carriages, Anne rode with Mrs. Jenkinson. For some of the journey, Anne’s maid shared this carriage, but as the weather had been particularly fine, the maid often rode with her brother, who was the coachman.
“I cannot imagine how our visit will be,” Anne confided to her companion. “I am excited and fearful—in short, I am a wreck!”
“I predict that within a week or two, your mother will pay more attention to her friends than to you. In those times, we will find our moments of freedom,” Mrs. Jenkinson said.
≈≈≈
May 17, 1811
On Friday morning in Hyde Park, too early to encounter the fashionable and the frivolous, Darcy and Fitzwilliam had just engaged in an impromptu race, which Laird won by a nose. Now the gentlemen turned their mounts toward Darcy House.
“I am reluctant to return home,” Darcy said. “This excursion to Netherfield has Georgiana agonizing over what dresses will be appropriate. She has asked me a thousand and one questions for which I have no answer. She seems to believe that if she wears the wrong bonnet, any chance of earning the good opinion of the Bennets will be lost forever.”
“Still, I’ve noticed a new spark of liveliness in her demeanor.”
“I confess, Fitz, I pity Bingley. He will have to explain his actions to Miss Bennet if he hopes to regain her favor. Of course, I cannot pretend I played no part in his current situation, and I regret it deeply. Still, I am happy I need not account to anyone for my behavior.”
“Sometimes the worst part of an error is having to confess it. Still, errors are useful teachers, and in my experience, offering apologies keeps me humble, an important element of my charm.”
“The last apology you made, Fitz, what occasioned it?”
“I assume you are not asking about mundane social utterings: ‘I regret I am unable to attend your deadly dull dinner party’ or ‘forgive me for mentioning that your dog is biting my boot.’”
“Yes, other than those.”
“I recently apologized to a young corporal who had informed me of a problem within the army’s stables. Apparently, someone had used a de-worming tonic which proved to be toxic. Because I did not attend to the corporal’s words in a timely manner, several horses were sickened, and one died. However, our stables are now improved, and Corporal Tinkler, a promising young officer, thinks I am not an arse. Or perhaps he merely considers me less of an arse. But I have given him confidence that when he brings me intelligence, I will take him seriously.”
“The stables are not your purview.”
“But as an officer, it behooves me to attend when a problem is brought to my attention, which is what Corporal Tinkler did.”
“As a colonel, you are his superior officer. It is his duty to give you intelligence regardless of what he believes you will do with it.”
“I assure you Tinkler and I are well aware of our respective duties. However, in this instance, his information was more of a suspicion than a fact. If he should believe I only give credence to proven facts, he is less likely to be forthcoming with hunches that could ultimately prove useful.”
“So, you apologized?”
“After I addressed the situation in the stables, I apologized to Tinkler for my delay.”
“Did the corporal indicate he expected an apology?”
“Of course not. You are missing the point, Darcy.” If Miss Elizabeth Bennet can confront you about your stuffy notions of class and propriety, how can I do any less?
“What is the point?”
“That a bit of humility can ease one’s efforts with others.”
“With what others? With whom?”
“With whomever—anyone, everyone!” Fitzwilliam rolled his eyes. “It is not as if we owe courtesy only to those of our station. Recall the words of Dr. Samuel Johnson: ‘The true measure of a man is how he treats someone who can do him absolutely no good.’” He studied his cousin’s mien and then asked, “When is the last time you apologized to anyone?”
“I apologized to Bingley for my interference regarding Miss Bennet.”
“Will you also apologize to Miss Bennet?”
“At the present time, I have no plans to do so.”
“Was she less injured than Bingley?”
“According to Miss Elizabeth, her sister keenly felt the pain of their separation.” Off his cousin’s look, Darcy added, “Which I do regret. However, I apologized to Bingley because I wanted to pre-serve our friendship. I have no such friendship with Miss Bennet.”
“And I dare say you never will.”
“As gentlemen, we do not go about apologizing hither and yon! We do not need to.”
“What would you say is the purpose of an apology?”
“To express regret or to explain an action.”
“And what is the purpose of explaining a particular action?”
Darcy shrugged. “I suppose when one feels the need to justify one’s choices. But people of our set know me to be an honest, reasonable man; any actions I undertake are for good reasons, even if I am mistaken about certain facts.”
“I think the best reason to explain oneself is that doing so is an expression of inclusion of respect. Of course, giving an explana-tion involves risk—”
“Risk?”
“What if a person hears your explanation and thinks, ‘That Darcy is an arrogant fool’?”
He laughed. “Oh, surely not. You are exaggerating!”
“Is there no conversation in which you were surprised by the other person’s opinion of you?”
Elizabeth—of course, Elizabeth! Oh, dear lord, what does Fitz know? In a quiet voice, Darcy acknowledged, “Perhaps.”
“And if you had given a rationale for your actions, might this person have thought the better of you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Darcy, you have often decried being valued for your family, your fortune, and your social status. Yet, do you not rely on those very things to avoid explaining yourself?”
“Explanations seem superfluous when one’s character is established,” Darcy said defensively.
“I have known you your entire life, yet at times I feel I do not know you at all! Were Bingley to ask me why you discouraged him from pursuing Miss Bennet, I would have no answer.”
“I wished to spare him the pain of an unequal match. He is easily seduced by a pretty face. I erred in interfering unasked in his affairs and in agreeing with Caroline’s plan to conceal Miss Bennet’s presence in London.”
“So, Bingley did not solicit your opinion regarding Miss Bennet? And it was his sister Caroline who convinced you that keeping the couple apart would be to her brother’s benefit?”
“In essence.” Darcy knew he had felt such a separation was in his best interest, too, as it would enable him to avoid Elizabeth.
“Bingley’s sisters are fine ladies, but they seem to feel entitled to think well of themselves and meanly of others. Miss Caroline, in particular, is proud and conceited. Please tell me you do not make a habit of acceding to her persuasions.”
“Certainly not! Now if you don’t mind, I prefer to finish our ride in silence.”
Fitzwilliam responded with a single, wordless nod, and the cousins rode in silent contemplation.
≈≈≈
Well past the hour when Darcy
typically retired for the night, he sat in the garden and sipped a brandy, trying to rid himself of the fear that Fitzwilliam had read Elizabeth’s letter. He would not insult his cousin by asking him directly, yet he was bedeviled by the thought that his proposal was not a secret. Fitz knows me better than anyone! Yet only today, he said there are times he does not know me at all. Does he think I have been behaving differently since my return from Rosings? Have I been? No. Well, sometimes. Well, in truth, I hope so.
On that thought, Darcy finished his brandy and went to bed, where he enjoyed a pleasant dream of walking with Elizabeth along a path through the woods at Pemberley. Gradually, those woods became Hyde Park, and suddenly he found himself walking alone yet surrounded by London’s most fashionable people. They were murmuring none too quietly about the country miss who had rejected him and, to his horror, the ladies and gentlemen were fanning themselves with copies of Elizabeth’s letter.
≈≈≈
Upon arriving at Kesteven Place, Lady Catherine declared they would divide their time between renewing her connections, attending balls, and enhancing her and Anne’s wardrobes to ensure their fashions reflected their wealth and status. Anne used some of her pin money to purchase several day dresses and two gowns for Mrs. Jenkinson; however, to avoid Lady Catherine’s disapproval, she told her mother that Mrs. Jenkinson paid for all but one of the dresses from her own savings.
Although Mrs. Jenkinson was delighted to have the new dresses, she was reluctant to accept them. “They are too much, Anne!” she said when the ladies were alone.
“Nonsense! I could buy each of us a new gown every week and still be very wealthy. Please accept these for my sake, if not for yours, for if you are not sufficiently elegant, Mama will not allow you to accompany me, and I would be so unhappy without you!”
In a somber tone, Mrs. Jenkinson confided, “Sometimes when I imagine you in a ballroom, I am reminded of a painting of a hunting scene, and you are the gentle doe surrounded by snapping dogs and trophy-seeking hunters.”
“What an inspiring image you have given me to meditate on for the ball tonight!” Anne exclaimed. “Now, let us buy gloves and a new bonnet each. I will only offer once to pay for your bonnet; if you decline, you are free to pay for it yourself.”
≈≈≈
May 18, 1811
When Mrs. Annesley knocked lightly on the open door of Darcy’s study, she saw her employer standing at the bookcase, gazing at a miniature of Georgiana, which smiled at him from a gold frame. “Mr. Ashton said you wished to speak me,” she said. Her expression was one of pleasant reserve, but it was clear she did not feel Darcy’s rare summons was a matter for concern.
“Yes, please come in, Mrs. Annesley.” With a gesture, he directed her to the settee near the large window overlooking the street. “I wish to speak plainly to you—to hear your thoughts—about my sister acting as Mr. Bingley’s hostess.” When she sat, he joined her, still holding the miniature.
“I believe, sir, this is exactly the opportunity Georgiana needs.”
“You do?” Darcy asked, surprised. “You do not fear she will feel overwhelmed?”
“Indeed not. Should she have questions, then you, the colonel, Mr. Bingley, and I will be there to give guidance.”
“Is it true Georgiana has been planning menus with Cook?”
“Yes, for several months now, and she’s done quite well, don’t you think? But she oversees more than menus. While I still review the household accounts with her, in recent weeks, she has had little need of my advice. You sister enjoys a challenge, sir.”
“Madam, there is a topic I am loath to discuss, yet I feel I may speak plainly to you.”
“You may, sir.”
“Regarding the events at Ramsgate last summer. We have discussed what occurred, but I have never told you why it occurred.”
“It is my understanding that a fortune-hunter pursued an innocent young lady.”
“Yes, but had I been a more attentive guardian, I would not have been taken in by Mrs. Younge—and Wickham would not have been within a hundred miles of my sister. I failed Georgiana. I do not wish to fail again by burdening her beyond her abilities.”
After a thoughtful silence, Mrs. Annesley spoke. “I shall speak plainly to you, as well, sir. My greatest challenge with Miss Darcy has been to persuade her to forgive herself.”
“Why does she think she needs forgiveness?” He was puzzled.
“For disappointing you.”
“I am not disappointed in Georgiana!” Darcy exclaimed, shaking his head at the absurdity. Apparently, I have a reputation for swaggering about, convinced I can do no wrong, while my dear sister tiptoes through her days, fearing she can do no right.
Mrs. Annesley knew enough of Darcy not to be cowed by his rare display of noisy temper. “No, I do not believe you are.”
“Should I praise her for her actions, whether large or small?”
“I would not recommend it. If she suspects you are insincere, you will lose her trust. But I do encourage you to notice her more significant efforts and to praise what is praiseworthy.”
Darcy stared at the miniature for a long time before raising his eyes to meet Mrs. Annesley’s kind gaze. Until this moment, he had given little thought to the degree that this gentlewoman had improved his sister’s life and, by extension, had enhanced his own freedom to distance himself from various aspects of the management of both Pemberley and Darcy House. After a pause, he cleared his throat and said, “Allow me to begin, madam, by acknowledging your good efforts. You humble me. It has taken me an unpardonably long time to recognize you as the treasure you truly are.”
For the first time in her eight years of working as a companion, Mrs. Annesley was too overcome to have a response beyond a quiet “thank you.” She rose and curtsied deeply. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss, sir?”
“No. I shall put my faith in your assurance that Georgiana is ready for the demands of being Bingley’s hostess. As you have correctly stated, all of us will be there to help her succeed.”
“Yes, sir.”
15
“Perhaps you should wish luck on all of us.”
May 19, 1811
Throughout the week following Claire Forster’s tea for the ladies of Meryton, Lydia Bennet repeatedly declared she would not even consider going to Brighton with the Forsters until she received an apology on Wickham’s behalf, a demand that the rest of the Bennets considered nonsensical. However, while the youngest Bennet daughter was awaiting an apology, Claire Forster was becoming good friends with Maria Lucas. As Elizabeth had noted, Maria’s time at Rosings had matured her and expanded her repertoire of social graces.
Impressed with Maria’s quiet demeanor, Colonel Forster approved of her as a companion for his wife. Thus, upon receiving a dinner invitation to Lucas Lodge a few days after the tea party, the Forsters were happy for the opportunity to know the Lucases better. (Sir William Lucas was an inoffensive, friendly, and obliging man who had formerly been in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune and risen to the honor of knighthood.) The dinner went so well that two days later, Sir William joined Forster for nuncheon at the militia camp; by the end of the meal, the men had agreed the Lucases would spend the summer in Brighton so that Claire might have Maria’s company.
Thus, in the churchyard before Sunday services, Lydia found herself cut by Claire Forster, although the lady greeted the other Bennet daughters warmly. Then, during tea at Longbourn, Lydia learned Sir William was taking Maria and her brother John to Brighton, where they would be much in company with the Forsters. (Lady Lucas would remain in Hertfordshire, having told Mrs. Bennet the sea air was not good for her fragile complexion.)
Maria has taken my place, my invitation! Lydia seethed, ignoring the fact that the Forster’s offer had always been more rumored than real and that Mr. Bennet might well have declined such an invitation on his daughter’s behalf.
≈≈≈
In London on that s
ame afternoon, Lady Penelope joined Lady Fitzwilliam for tea. As had become their custom when the colonel was present, Lady Fitzwilliam would drink approximately half of her cup of tea and then announce she had a new piece of music to demonstrate. Leaving open the double doors connecting the small parlor to the music room, she would play the pianoforte while Fitzwilliam and Lady Penelope conversed in relative privacy.
“I was surprised to receive your invitation, Colonel. Did you know I returned to Trelawney Hall only two days ago?”
“You’ve scarcely had time to catch your breath, but as I am leaving for Hertfordshire tomorrow, I was eager to know how you are faring.” He would not admit to her that after their meetings, he felt an inexplicable certainty that a happy future awaited him.
“How long will you be in Hertfordshire?”
“I do not yet know. Can you keep a secret? Of course, you can. I shall tell you a secret and give you leave to tell one other person—but only one.”
Intrigued, she asked, “What is your secret?”
“Do you recall my mention of my morally rigid cousin Darcy?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Darcy does not know that I know he recently proposed to a young lady and she turned him down. Tomorrow he is off to Hertfordshire, ostensibly to help his good friend Bingley court the sister of the lady who rejected him. And I am accompanying these gentlemen to play cupid as needed.”
Lady Penelope’s amusement shone in her eyes. “What exactly do you expect to do for your cousin and his friend?”
“Observe, and at some point I will likely be needed to keep one or both men from making an arse—I mean, a fool—of themselves.”
“I Would that I could observe you, sir!” Then in a more serious tone, she asked, “How is your collarbone these days?” Although she did not say so, she believed the colonel’s injury of last autumn was a blessing; otherwise, he would have been sent back to the war. I wish you were free of the army, Christopher.
