Chapter 10

A tedious letter is certain to be received quickly, where a letter anticipated will not arrive until curiosity has almost sunk into indifference. Elizabeth could not yet admit to indifference regarding Jane and Mr Bingley, but her sister’s letter did not come, and she became absorbed by her aunt’s.

“Georgiana, will you walk with me?”

Georgiana flinched with a fearful glance toward the gentlemen. They were both studiously fastened to the backgammon board, each bickering over the play of the other. She dutifully rose and joined Elizabeth at the mantle.

Elizabeth inwardly sighed. All of her efforts at friendliness and ease were met with failure.  She abandoned ‘Miss Darcy’ a few weeks ago and invited a similar return of familiarity, but it seemed a false intimacy. Georgiana could speak with some animation to Darcy or Colonel on occasion, yet remained unwontedly afraid of Elizabeth.

This inability to charm left Elizabeth somewhat at a loss.  It seemed incredible to imagine this girl with enough courage to consent to an elopement, although Elizabeth supposed many girls carried romantic notions with them. Elizabeth felt more pity than she could express at the terrible consequences springing from one rash display of boldness.

Darcy’s often anxious attempts to promote their attachment served to make both ladies more self-conscious of what they lacked. He had yet to learn that women tended to form friendships at a more cautious pace, particularly when they found themselves under strain.  Elizabeth’s vast experience with sisters never included such a timid, fearful sort of girl, and Georgiana had no experience with a sister at all.

Once they were safely out of earshot from the men, Elizabeth pulled out her letter from Mrs Gardiner. “I thought you might like to read this,” she began in the easiest tone she could manage. With her vivid recollections of her aunt’s frank words, her efforts were less successful than she hoped. Fighting off a blush, she continued, “My aunt told me what I- what to expect…in your condition.”

“Oh,” Georgiana managed to whisper.

Georgiana eyed the letter as if she very much wanted to read it, prompting Elizabeth to ask, “Shall we retire to my sitting room? They will not mind it, if they even notice our absence.”

For once, it seemed curiosity might trump Georgiana’s fear. After a cautious look at the gentlemen, the younger girl led the way upstairs and took the seat nearest the fire without any hesitation. Elizabeth looked at her with some bemusement, bringing a rosy flush to her cheek.

“Do forgive me,” Georgiana cried. “I forget myself sometimes. These were my mother’s rooms, you see, and this chair was mine. When my mother lived here, I mean.”

“It can remain yours, as far as I am concerned,” Elizabeth replied with a gentle smile. She shooed the dogs from the settee and sat down. “You must have many happy memories here.”

“Yes, I do,” answered Georgiana with a peculiar, wistful smile. “Mama was very beautiful and very good. I wanted to be as good as she…”

She seemed to sink into fear and silence again. Elizabeth tried to think of some comfort to give to her situation, but Georgiana continued before she could think of a word, “Forgive me. Fitzwilliam says I must not give way to melancholy, but I do feel it so. He explained about the hypocrisy of the world and redemption, and it sounds almost noble until I remember how it was supposed to be. I was supposed to marry.” With a shake of her head, she sighed, saying, “I had better read your letter.”

By the time she finished her reading, Georgiana was nearly in tears. “Thank goodness. I could not think of why I should want to cry over Hero’s puppies or wish to eat eggs with jam. I should have known.”

“How should you?  Girls are told nothing. We are kept in darkness or worse, filled with harrowing tales of half-truths. Not every girl has an Aunt Gardiner to write whenever they need advice.”

“Do you never ask your mother? I always thought if Mama were still alive, I could pour out all of my troubles to her.”

Elizabeth looked at her in surprise, until she remembered that Georgiana had never met Mrs Bennet. “Not all mothers and daughters share that sort of confidence. You must remember that I am one of five sisters, and she receives her share of confidences from my younger sisters, I think.”

Georgiana seemed somehow disappointed. “Sisters also can share confidences, Georgiana. My eldest sister and I have been very close since we were girls.”

Georgiana looked at her, then slowly replied, “You must think you have gained the most imprudent, silliest sister in the world.”

“I think no such thing,” Elizabeth retorted firmly, then smiled a little. “I have several sisters sillier than you, and you never steal my ribbons nor my hats.”

The next half-hour was the first one they had ever spent together in any semblance of comfortable conversation.  Sensing Georgiana willingness to talk, Elizabeth drew her out, asking after her music and other accomplishments until the younger girl had forgotten some of her shyness. Georgiana spoke of her crayon drawings, the ones Elizabeth saw on display in the portrait gallery, then looked up with a gasp. “Fitzwilliam! I did not see you there; I shall leave you both if you please. If I am to play after supper, I must practice.”

He smiled at his sister as she passed by him, the softened look about his mouth and eyes rendered him even more handsome. She returned the smile directed at her easily.  The warmth of his expression was attributed to what she would feel if someone were particularly kind to Jane. When the silence grew disconcerting, she said, “Do you require something?”

Darcy sat next to her, shaking his head.  “I missed you both is all.  Georgiana must have appreciated your aunt’s advice.”

“I think she did.  As I told her, I think it would be very hard to be without an Aunt Gardiner.”

“Particularly if you have two young bachelors for guardians,” Darcy replied with a sombre look.  Elizabeth stared at Darcy’s slender hands and long fingers next to her, unable to explain the unsettling urge to grip his fingers and press them against her cheek. She suddenly asked, “Do you have Aesop’s Fables here? I should like to see it.”

Elizabeth tried to compose herself as he went to fetch her book, thinking back on her conversation with Georgiana. She was hardly the sort of creature to trouble herself over what she could neither anticipate nor change, but she briefly wondered if she truly had known what she was about in making such a marriage.  A feeling almost of dread washed over her.

Darcy returned. “May I ask why you want to read it?”

“I merely wished to see if the illustrations were as I remember. When Georgiana spoke to me of children, I remembered how I liked the book as a girl.”

“She did?”

Elizabeth nearly laughed at gaping shock in his voice. “Believe me, sir, you are no more surprised than I. We decided neither of us knows very much of the subject and must learn as we go along.”

“I suppose that sounds reasonable,” Darcy replied, still a little bewildered. “I fear our copy does not include illustrations.”

“What a shame! I would look at them for hours, then ask my father to read the fables over and again. I think he taught me to read merely to have peace again in his library.” Elizabeth tried to keep the note of resentment from her voice.  Meeting Darcy’s sharp look, she gazed down at her hands.

“I hope to never have that sort of peace.” His warm palm brush briefly over the back of her hand then settled back into his lap.  “What other sort of books would you have for children?”

Elizabeth named a few, then shifted her hand carefully back into her lap. Children. The idea was hardly a revolutionary one – marriage and children went hand in hand – but she thought of children as a distant event put easily from her mind. It was easy enough to do, even as her mother and aunt made their attempts to prepare her for becoming a wife. Now it seemed almost nothing to imagine his fleeting grip on her hand transforming into a caress or even a kiss.

A lick on her hand from Claudio saved her from those shocking thoughts. “Poor Claudio! How you and Hero shall miss us. I shall walk with you both every day until we are to go,” Elizabeth said with a fond pat, hiding her face into his neck for a moment.

“Thomas will exercise them until we return.”

She looked on Darcy with a reproachful frown. “You speak as if you will not miss them.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow, answering dryly, “There is enough unhappiness without inventing new causes.”

At her dissatisfied look, he said, “I will miss them, but I have no intention on dwelling upon it.”

“Nor I,” she said. At times, their dispositions were startlingly alike, she concluded.

**
To Elizabeth’s bewilderment, the impending trip to Ireland bore little resemblance to the simplicity of her maidenly travels. Those times when she might only worry after one or two small trunks had transformed into a journey of lists and trunks and baskets. Music, paints, pencils, books, enough to last for two or three years at least, were added to the list and catalogued. The hallway began to fill with all of the necessities of civilized life until only a soldier could sympathize with Elizabeth’s plight.

“Dear heavens! Did Darcy hire out the entire ship?”

“I do hope he did!” Elizabeth replied, laughingly. “You might pray for a sturdy boat as well.”

“You may be certain I shall pray for all of you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam replied with a sudden burst of solemnity. “This sad business -” he stopped speaking and shook his head, replying more cheerfully, “well, I daresay Darcy will manage it with your assistance, and I shall do my work here.”

“Do you return to your regiment? Are you well enough?”

“Nothing so easy,” he said with a grim sort of smile. “I return to Yorkshire and my father. You may be assured I will do my part to reconcile the family.”

“I beg your pardon? I thought the news of this would spread no farther than you.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam fixed her with a puzzled frown, which he cleared with a waving gesture of his hand. “How typical of Darcy! He rarely explains himself. I refer to how the news of your marriage has been received within the family. We decided that I should speak of you to my father and brother.”

“Oh! I must wish you success with your endeavour,” Elizabeth replied with a slight frown.

The disapproval of Mr Darcy’s relations mattered little, she told herself, not when they had never set eyes upon her. She supposed they would have been dissatisfied with anything less than fifty thousand pounds and a Lady Elizabeth.

Her deepening frown brought a look of chagrin to Colonel Fitzwilliam. “Forgive me, Mrs Darcy. We have gotten in the habit of speaking freely, but I should have judged better. I hope you shall both be very happy together.”

After giving his farewells to his cousins, Colonel Fitzwilliam boarded his carriage.

The horses had no sooner passed by the lodge gates than the seal was broken on Jane’s letter. Elizabeth read:

“How I wished my mother had not written to you! Oh, Lizzy, I know you will be displeased on my behalf, but I beg you will not act rashly. If I thought anyone would suffer on my account, I would be made very unhappy.

Mr Bingley has returned to London with no apparent plans to return to Netherfield. Miss Bingley writes of their hopes to visit Pemberley in the summer, to further the acquaintance between Mr Bingley and your new sister. From your letter, I must think you have not been aware of the hopes for Miss Darcy and Mr Bingley. I pray you will not suffer from any feelings of disloyalty to me by furthering the match between them.

Every line you have written of Miss Darcy makes me believe that any gentleman must appreciate her temper and accomplishments. I cannot blame him or Miss Bingley for wanting to bring about a match which would bring happiness to so many. Whatever my hopes were, I now understand him better.

He never cared for me, Lizzy, nor intended me to care for him. His manners were charming, amiable, and polite, but never did he wish to attach me by word or deed. For me to think otherwise was a little error of fancy on my part. I attached myself without any provocation from him. In time, I shall belong entirely to myself again.”

Go to Chapter 11