Darcy turned to her, surprised. He understood her well enough now to comprehend that her humour was at times a defence from discomfiture. He replied in even tones. “Indeed, but what are a few hours of splendour to a lifetime of happiness?”
She smiled and turned her attentions to the proceedings with improved spirits. It was not a hopeful spectacle. For even when her friend Charlotte Lucas had married her father’s cousin Mr. Collins under such peculiar and rushed circumstances there had not been an equal lack of anything resembling warmth. For Mr. Collins had been devoted to his role of bridegroom and played the part with enthusiasm, whatever his private sentiments may have been.
It would be difficult to find a bridegroom more smartly attired or more handsome than the Viscount Highpointe. He was in full possession of the Fitzwilliam height, the fine figure and elegant posture. His countenance was a perfection of harmonious features and his colouring fair and clear. Yet his entire air was one of cold resignation, if not quite simple indifference. Lady Patience Faircloth could not be said to exhibit feelings very different from her bridegroom’s, but there was, at least, a satisfied smile when she was first addressed as the Viscountess.
For their parts, Lord Richmond and Lord Faircloth appeared genuinely pleased. The connection of two such old and prestigious families—both in full possession of their financial health—was an achievement that produced in them both feelings of great satisfaction. Lady Richmond could not truly be said to be any less pleased. Although the company of her new daughter-in-law inspired no enthusiasm, Lady Richmond could not find fault with the marriage her husband had arranged for their eldest son. It was an alliance worthy of the grand spectacle she had organized.
Indeed, the marriage between Lady Patience Faircloth, daughter of Lord Randolph Faircloth and the long-deceased Lady Hyacinth Faircloth, of Goodstone Park, to the Viscount Highpointe, heir to the Earl of Richmond, was considered by London’s high society as one of the most well-constructed matches in many a season. It was to the advantage of all. One offered more prestigious rank, whilst the other offered greater fortune. Indeed, the new Viscountess’ remarkable wealth and her excellent connections where justification enough to promote a general approbation of her person. It was an alliance in all manners admired. It had been accomplished through the diligence of the two elder noblemen with the full acquiescence of the most interested parties who, in point of fact, were not much more than passing, indifferent acquaintances.
“An excellent match. Not at all like his cousin’s marriage,” was often remarked when the engagement had been announced. For Mr. Darcy’s marriage continued to be a topic of surprise and censure. Elizabeth’s successful dinner had put a stop to the growing murmurs of disapprobation and rumours of inadequacies, as had been the intent, but she remained a perplexing figure and was not universally celebrated. Her evident disinterestedness in society’s arbitration perhaps carried as much weight as her modest origins. As her old rival Miss Caroline Bingley had been wont to lament, she was in possession of a firm self-sufficiency too evident for the liking of the more fashionable set.
Colonel Fitzwilliam watched the ceremony with keen displeasure. He felt nothing but grief on behalf of his brother. He could not conceive how this insipid creature had become his brother’s wife and he recalled with sadness for his brother the pretty and sweet Miss Vye who would have been the wife of Edward’s heart had he had but the courage. He could only hope that his concerns were ill founded, for no one had ever heard anything against Lady Patience Faircloth, she was merely dull.
Even so, the Colonel could not comprehend his brother’s acquiescence to this particular marriage, to this particular young lady, but then, he recalled regretfully, his brother had long ago abandoned any pretence of an independent will and there was something so fantastically pathetic about a grown man doing so that he found he could not respect his brother. When he considered how Edward had released without even the simulation of a fight, without a defence even of his own right to determine some part of his own fate; that he, the future Earl, the future master of a comfortable fortune and a venerable estate, should bend so unfailingly to the current Earl’s will like he was no more than a blade of grass underfoot, was a capitulation the Colonel could not but find odious in the extreme, particularly as he clung with such persistence to the limited rule he, as a second son, could wield upon his own prospects.
Miss Vye had been such a sweet, pretty and tender-hearted girl, and her serenity and delicacy had delighted Edward from the first, but when her brother’s gambling brought the once respectable family to ruin, Edward had made no argument against the Earl’s.
“It would appear that Mr. Vye has lost everything but his frock coat and Miss Vye shall be required to seek employment if she is not taken under the protection of some relation, which appears unlikely. Are you truly suggesting, Edward, that the future Earl of Richmond shall be wed to a lady’s companion?”
Nothing more had been said and Miss Vye had been abandoned by Edward at her moment of greatest need before any promises had been made, but not before one heart was left betrayed and the other, at the very least, sincerely touched. As the Colonel observed the ceremony he wondered why if his brother could pass on without remorse, why must he feel it in his stead? He recognized it was hardly brotherly to remind him of his misfortune when he would now have daily proof in the form of Lady Patience Faircloth’s regular company. He had often lamented the limitations of his choices given his position as a second son, but he was suddenly pleased, pleased he need not marry simply to produce a respectable heir to the Earldom.
The ceremony concluded, Lord Richmond began to amble about the room greeting all of his guests with an amiability and cheerfulness that was not his usual manner. He had not felt so well since Alice had been living. His eldest son was at long last properly settled with a young woman of rank and fortune, his second son’s career in the army was flourishing, his dearest Edith was as satisfied as a woman could be with her situation, and his health of late was greatly improved. All that was required now for his perfect happiness was speedy news of an heir en route.
He found his way at length to where Darcy stood with Elizabeth, Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had never been so talkative nor so warm in Elizabeth’s presence before and she suspected the successful completion of his own son’s much-admired marriage had reduced the less desirable marriage of his nephew to the secondary importance it deserved in his consideration. At one moment he even went so far as to refer to her as my dear Mrs. Darcy. His mood was indeed excellent and he asked of them only to show a proper civility towards Lady Catherine so that the family discord might not be openly manifest to others.
“Now the ceremony is complete, before we all sit to dine, Darcy, do be civil.”
Mr. Darcy stiffened entirely at his uncle’s request and was ready to turn and walk away in the contrary direction when Elizabeth halted him with a gentle grasp of his arm.
“Fitzwilliam Darcy!” she whispered in a voice so controlled and taut that Lord Richmond barely recognized it as hers. “Her presence is no surprise and we had settled that this is no place to cosset your indignation. What lies between is our own personal concern and I will not have you parading it for the sport of Lady Richmond’s guests. She does not deserve such a discomfiting display of incivility amongst members of her own family. Please, let us acknowledge Lady Catherine. This is no moment for resentment.”
Throughout Elizabeth’s reasoning Darcy remained perfectly still, looking across the room to where his aunt sat in conversation with the Norburys. He made no audible reply to his wife, he merely offered her his arm before escorting her and Georgiana across the room to Lady Catherine.
“Well,” Lord Richmond murmured to his son as they crossed the room. “She is a very surprising young lady.”
“Exceedingly so,” the Colonel replied almost triumphantly. “Mother will be obliged for her consideration.”
The theatre of civility concluded, Darcy, Elizabeth
and Georgiana returned to the other side of the room. It was a sufficiently occupied room that they need not make further pretence of good will. As Elizabeth was quietly thanking Darcy for his forbearance, Lord Enfield joined them. Georgiana immediately blushed at his arrival. She was uncomfortable in his presence; though his attentions were mild and unobtrusive, he had something in his expression whenever they had met that she found quietly forward and unnerving.
“I had not anticipated your presence,” Mr. Darcy declared, aware that Lord Enfield seemed all at once to be constantly in the same place as himself—shops, concert halls, houses and galleries he had never before been known to frequent were now regular places of entertainment.
“My father found himself suddenly ill and I have come to represent him. His Grace would not wish to neglect so fortuitous and illustrious an occasion as this. Lord and Lady Richmond appear very pleased.”
Elizabeth found it remarkable how often she had heard just this comment shared, as well as the pleasure of Lord Faircloth, and yet she had not heard anything of the expected happiness of the newly married couple, so that for all the elegance and refinement of the day she found it all a very sad and disheartening display. She recalled Dr. Hodgson’s reflections on marriage and was sure that he would concur with her less than favourable view of the union just witnessed. She was not surprised that her husband, who beneath his formality and reserve was such a passionate and warm man, had rebelled against such a cold fate.
As the gentlemen conversed, Elizabeth sensed Georgiana’s discomfort and taking advantage of seeing the new Viscountess unattended, excused herself and Georgiana to go and speak with the bride. She was an unsympathetic and monotonous woman, but Elizabeth was too kind to subject another to the cold civility that she had received as a new bride and so she went to her with warmth and sincerity to wish her happiness and good fortune.
“Well, it is done,” the Viscountess responded indifferently to Elizabeth’s congratulations. “I at least have one less obligation to attend to now. Soon enough I hope to be left in peace to do as I wish.”
“Indeed,” Elizabeth responded, and for the first time Georgiana witnessed Elizabeth at a loss for words.
Lord Enfield fixedly observed Georgiana, noted her perfect gentility and was charmed by her evident timidity. He turned back to his companion. “I will be travelling to Scotland later this summer. I presume you will be at Pemberley for the summer months. Perhaps, Mr. Darcy, it would not be inconvenient for you to have me at Pemberley for a few days as I travel north? I will write to you.”
Mr. Darcy acknowledged Lord Enfield’s statement with a simple nod of the head and without further comment. As Lord Enfield walked away, Lady Edith joined her cousin.
“I had no notion you were acquainted with the Marquess of Enfield,” she remarked. “But I have seen you conversing with some degree of familiarity.”
“He has recently shown some interest in renewing a middling acquaintance from university.”
“Has he?” she responded and turned towards her young cousin. “Your sister is becoming a handsome young lady, to be sure. Excellent news, my dear cousin,” she declared. “One instance of indulged sentimental caprice in the family is surely enough. Ah, here comes your fascinating wife now, with Georgiana quietly beside her.”
Lady Edith took Georgiana by the arm as soon as she arrived at her side. “My dear young cousin,” she said with uncommon civility and warmth, “come and sit with me. I wish to learn what you are about these days. Perhaps I should have you to Matchem for a visit.”
Elizabeth turned a disbelieving look to her husband. He made no reply, but when they were returned home Elizabeth insisted on understanding Lady Edith’s sudden attentiveness towards Georgiana. They were together in the parlour, Darcy standing by the mantle and Elizabeth seated across from him. “Her attentions were far too marked for a mere cousinly civility,” Elizabeth persisted.
Darcy explained his conversation with Lord Enfield and his cousin’s notice of the same and suspicion of its cause. Elizabeth was not supportive.
“Georgiana is not yet seventeen. It is too early. She is a very superior young lady and will have many admirers. But she has been too little in the world. You cannot open her already to suitors. She must have time to know herself.”
“He will be the Duke of Harwington,” Darcy replied with a hoary conviction. “I can hardly slight the Marquess of Enfield and tell him he is not welcomed to rest at Pemberley as he travels north.”
“He clearly admires Georgiana and she just as clearly is discomfited by his attentions. Are you sure of this course of action?”
“I am. There are no promises being made.”
“She is not equipped for such a suitor. You shall regret it!” she declared with uncommon fervour.
“I do not believe I shall.” He spoke with a haughty certainty Elizabeth no longer recognized.
“You will do as you think best,” she responded with displeasure before turning away her glance and beginning to nervously position and re-position a box upon the table at her side. “Well,” she said at last into the dense silence as she rose to her feet; “I am tired and will retire now.”
“Very well,” Darcy said, unable to hold her gaze, for he saw therein censure where he was now long accustomed to a far sweeter intent.
Elizabeth began to cross the room, vexed by his imperiousness and dismayed by their surprising return to old misapprehensions. She halted mid-step, recalling all at once her Aunt Gardiner’s sage advice when they had been together at Pemberley during the Christmas season. It is entirely up to you and your husband to determine what influences you will allow to come to bear upon your marriage.
Elizabeth turned back to her husband; he was looking doggedly ahead with the same wilful aloofness that had so offended in Hertfordshire, his countenance set in fixed surety. She was determined; Lady Edith’s pernicious influence could not be allowed to mar what was so good between them. Elizabeth went to Darcy’s side and took his hand gently within her own. “Darling, come with me. Do not remain here with this discord between us.”
Immediately he exhaled, aware some perilous fissure had been hindered when she turned back into the room and took his hand. He spoke with quiet conviction. “Elizabeth, you must give me credit for not acting capriciously. The interests and well-being of our family are always my foremost concern.”
“Naturally,” she replied in rectification.
They remained standing together in strained silence. Darcy remarked at length, not entirely sure what he wished to express with so sudden a declaration, “In a week’s time we shall be returned to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth sighed like a traveller seeing a longed-for shelter ahead. “Most happily we shall.”
Darcy returned his gaze to hers and suddenly understood all the heavy weight of expectations Elizabeth had so gracefully and silently borne whilst they had been in town as one person after another had so cavalierly passed judgement upon her suitability. He brought her into his arms, held her close to his heart. “Eliza, I would do anything for you; bear any burden. Never doubt me; trust me.”
Elizabeth furrowed her brow, troubled by this strangely anxious discourse between them. “I would have never married you if I did not trust you; I could not love you as I do if I did not respect you. That does not signify, however, that I am always of a mind to agree with you.”
“I do not imagine I should recognize you if you did,” he asserted gently. “Let us ensure that when disagreements do arise, they be not acrimonious, they be not tainted by misgiving of motivations. When we must disagree, let us do so without bitterness, for it is the bitterness, not the disagreement, that erodes concord and originates discord.”
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, sighed anew, and laid her head against his breast, wrapped her arms about him. She wished all at once, most eagerly, to be returned to the peace and felicity of Pemberley. She was uncommonly fatigued and had grown weary of all the quiet intrigues of London society. Duri
ng their last days in town they would see much of the Norburys and Elizabeth was less than gratified with the notion; she disliked Lady Edith’s influence on her husband and foresaw inevitably unpleasant moments. She would be delighted to be returned to Pemberley where she was confident the weight of all such disagreeable intrigues and influences could be readily overthrown.
BOOK THREE
A Summer Party
Chapter 22
To Rectify What is at Odds
Elizabeth stopped at the top of the hill and took in the grand vista before her. The house lay below in the valley and all around the gardens and park spring was blooming. The peaks rose up in the horizon and the sky was a clear, crisp blue with nary a cloud in sight. Elizabeth took in a deep breath and sighed contentedly, no longer marvelling that this impressive estate was her home. Each passing day she felt herself more in harmony with the place, felt this her home as absolutely as Longbourn had once been. The great beauty of the house—in that most perfect of situations, so nobly ensconced, as impressive and unpretentious as an old oak—and the verdant, expansive environs, however, still moved her. She could not look upon it all with indifference. The arrangement of landscape and architecture was a perfection that profoundly affected her senses.
Elizabeth removed her bonnet and let the sun warm her face for a moment as she gently pressed her hands to her belly. She was every day more certain she was with child and anticipated with pleasure soon informing her husband.
She took a long sweeping look at the beautiful prospect before continuing on her way towards the house. She had just been visiting the sick child of a woman whose family had been tenants on the Darcy lands going on three generations; a girl of eight with a pale, freckled face and mild brown eyes that shone with delight when the mistress arrived with a basket of fresh spring flowers and her luminous smile. At Pemberley there existed in all a great sense of responsibility to the long and illustrious history of the place, beginning with Mr. Darcy himself who took no casual view of his position. Pemberley was not merely a source of generous income that provided him with ease and plenitude of living; it was a duty to all who depended upon its good management and an obligation to its legacy. Elizabeth hoped this spring to begin to discover her own manner of contributing to that noble heritage, hoped to become a kind and compassionate presence in the lives of the many people connected to the Pemberley estate, hoped that she would learn to be where she was needed and to understand where she was not wanted.
To Teach the Admiring Multitude Page 24