These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  “Safe. Yes,” she whispered to no one in particular. “But I could wish for more than simply that.”

  28

  Pemberley

  “You asked to see me, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth glanced up from the ledger, unconscious of the black smear below her cheek from her pen. “Yes, Mrs Annesley, please do come in.” Elizabeth rose carefully from the writing desk, sorting several sheets of notepaper and the ink well before she did so, to keep from unsettling them when she drew back.

  Mrs Annesley looked curiously at the array. “Miss Bennet, are you certain you will not tire yourself overmuch? Surely, Mrs Reynolds or Mr Jefferson might be asked to attend you.”

  Elizabeth turned a neutral expression toward the woman. “I thank you for your concern, Mrs Annesley. I do not require Mrs Reynolds’ assistance at present, for I only review matters of which we have previously spoken. I am expecting Miss Darcy at any moment, for we are to talk of the usual payroll for the household staff and the kitchen expenditures. Mr Jefferson is in Lambton today, but we have an appointment with him on the morrow to discuss last year’s grain harvest and some of the past tenant rents.”

  Mrs Annesley lifted a brow in clear disapproval, but she said nothing. Though she, also, had been a gentleman’s daughter, her presence at Pemberley was by virtue of employment, not friendship and some liberal degree of authority. Elizabeth held entirely the advantage, and she had not yet determined how well Mrs Annesley liked that arrangement.

  “Would you and Miss Darcy not be more comfortable in the study?” the elder lady suggested, after once more surveying the cluttered desk.

  Elizabeth swept her gaze over her cramped little writing space. Certainly, she could have worked in the study more efficiently, but she felt as Colonel Fitzwilliam apparently had. That room belonged so inherently to him that she felt entering it would be akin to violating his private chambers. Both were tasks which, she feared, might one day fall to Georgiana and herself, but she was not yet equal to them. Bad enough that she had spent so many of her hours already in restoring his personal library, and now in perusing his private financial affairs. She could not wholly invade his domain! She did not fear dishonouring him—rather, it was the empty, inescapable pain of his absence, when in all other respects he was so undeniably present.

  “No,” she answered softly, her eyes still lingering on a page written in his hand. “I am comfortable here.” She drew a breath and faced the other lady, all business once more. “I hoped, Mrs Annesley, to have a private word with you before Miss Darcy comes down. I understand that you have again requested a personal holiday. Is there some trouble with your family, or any way in which we can offer assistance? Mr O’Donnell has graciously offered to accompany you for protection on your journey.”

  Mrs Annesley at first looked displeased at Elizabeth’s knowledge, then dismayed by the offer of escort. “That will not be necessary, Miss Bennet. My brother has arranged travel for me this afternoon.”

  “I had heard that he had been unwell. Perhaps we may send for a physician to attend him? I know that Miss Darcy would be distressed indeed if we did not do all that could be done for your family.”

  Mrs Annesley narrowed a flinty gaze, and her tones were clipped when she answered. “I shall leave that decision for Miss Darcy to make, Miss Bennet. I believe the estate and Darcy name belong to her.”

  Elizabeth lowered her eyes to her hands. “You do not trust me, Mrs Annesley. That is well.”

  The lady stiffened, her face bright with protested innocence. “What can you mean by that, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth allowed one corner of her mouth to turn up. “I hope it means that you are earnest and faithful in your companionship, and that you are honestly concerned for her well-being.”

  “I am,” Mrs Annesley returned briskly. “I should be sorry to see her led astray, and her trust compromised by those who might exploit their authority over an innocent.”

  “Hmm,” Elizabeth smiled. “So should I. Tell me, Mrs Annesley, has your brother long been unwell, or has it only been these last few months?”

  Mrs Annesley drew back her shoulders. “His condition is worsening. I should think it might only be a matter of time.”

  “And you have been generously provided for on each of your journeys to see him?”

  “Of course, Miss Bennet,” was the icy reply.

  “I am glad to hear it. You must attend to him, of course. It is such a pity, however,” Elizabeth mused, “that you are called so frequently away from Miss Darcy. She has been rather vulnerable, and I know she misses your companionship terribly when you are away.”

  “How fortunate for her that she has you and Mrs Wickham.”

  Elizabeth thinned her lips. “Indeed. Please do not hesitate to make known your needs, Mrs Annesley. I wish you a comfortable journey, and I shall refer the notion of a physician to Miss Darcy.”

  Mrs Annesley dipped a cold curtsey, which Elizabeth answered with marginally greater warmth. As the woman swept from the room, Elizabeth stared after her and crossed her arms. She truly had not wished for a confrontation, but perhaps it was inevitable. In the time since she had come there, Mrs Annesley had been far from the devoted adviser to Georgiana that Darcy had desired for her to be. She seemed more often distracted by correspondence, or unwell herself. This particular leave-taking was the third such—on record, at least—since Mr Darcy’s death. It was as if she deliberately left Georgiana’s side when she was most needed, but for what purpose Elizabeth could not fathom.

  The curiosity was in the timing of each of these episodes. Elizabeth might not have noted it but for a peculiar coolness she felt whenever the woman was in the room, and therefore any information concerning her drew her interest. Coinciding with the dates of each of Mrs Annesley’s departures and the accompanying stipends, the household ledgers took a sharp turn. Fifty pounds here, thirty there—roughly two hundred in all. Lavish traveling expenditures for one woman, if that was what she was to take them for!

  She chewed her lip in frustration. Darcy would have caught it. She sighed, feeling all the more incompetent. Naturally she could not be so clever about his private and extensive affairs as he had been, with his greater education and experience, but she hated the thought that she was disappointing his memory or allowing all that he had shepherded to come to ruin.

  Inwardly she laughed at herself for her own imaginary drama. Two hundred pounds could scarcely ruin the Darcy fortune! She had only viewed the household budgets, which was what she was to teach to Georgiana, but even that flow of currency dwarfed all Longbourn’s coffers. An accounting error, surely… but that answer did not satisfy her.

  Grumbling and casting another chagrined glance toward the ledgers, she decided to take a short break from them and retired to the sofa. She had brought Lady Georgina’s diary down from her room and had found it a most amusing diversion for when she had only a few moments to read. The lady’s pithy humour in her private writings never failed to make her chuckle. Very like Elizabeth’s father she was, recording all manner of candid observations on her husband, life at the estate, and the social obligations imposed upon one of her station. As was customary, Elizabeth could scarcely read a page before some irreverent remark would make her giggle and blush guiltily. Such an unconventional life and marriage the woman must have had!

  18 October, 1758

  “My husband came to me again last night, after nearly three months on the Continent. One would think that in such time, he might have practised adequately to improve his performance, but I find him as deficient as on previous occasions. He requires an heir, I suppose, and so for now I must become his mare. I think if he stroked me with the same kid gloves with which he rides that fool chestnut of his, I should happily leap fences and follow the hounds as well, so to speak!

  I threatened to take me a lover of my own if he did not look to amend his approach, to which we both afterward shared a hearty laugh. He recommended tha
t as soon as a son is born to us, I ought to importune his present guest: that Portuguese fellow with the name I do not trouble myself to pronounce. I retorted that the idea had merit, but only for his benefit. Privately, I came to detest the man after I discovered him laying hands on my chamber maid. Lady Margaret Fitzwilliam, however, seems to nurse something of a fascination for the man. She always did fancy an accent, but for myself….

  “Lizzy, please forgive us for being so tardy!” Georgiana cried. “Lydia and I were trying a new dress for her.”

  Elizabeth dropped the journal as though it had singed her fingers and gulped, attempting to compose herself. “Not to worry,” she croaked, “I have been well entertained.”

  Georgiana danced near, all smiles as she swept her arms after herself to present a cocky Lydia, striding into the room with exaggerated grace. “Just look how well it suits her!”

  Lydia paused for dramatic effect, then arched a hand over her head to twirl as one of the dancers she had seen at the ballet in London. She bowed her body backward until her stomach protruded awkwardly, and took a few hopping, ponderous leaps that fell far short of the original. All the while, she made certain to thrust her growing stomach with each step, so that it jiggled and bounced through the sheer fabric of the new gown. Her antics produced riotous giggles from Georgiana and even a mirthful chuckle from Elizabeth.

  “Well, Lizzy, what do you think?” demanded her sister, coming to rest with a hand poised daintily in the air. “Am I not the very picture of elegance?”

  “You are the picture of something, but I cannot yet decide what it is.”

  “If I am to grow so awkward and fat, I shall at least do so in style. Look here, Lizzy! Is this not the most exquisite lace you have ever set eyes upon? Georgiana says it came directly from Paris. Would not Mama simply swoon for it?”

  Elizabeth arched her brows in appreciation. “I believe she would.”

  “Oh! You have not seen the best part.” Lydia rounded clumsily and flounced to the door of the library, where a patient maid had been waiting. She returned with her hands full of some floral confection, piled high with netting, bows, and feathers, and raised it over her own head as if in coronation. “How well the bonnet looks on me, do you not think? It was all Georgiana’s creation. Have I not taught her well?”

  Elizabeth found herself seized by a violent cough, and turned her head politely away. “Pardon me, but the fire has made the room dry,” she mumbled hoarsely. “It is—” she coughed again, “—a valiant effort, Georgiana. You must have invested many an hour into such a work of art.”

  Georgiana beamed. “I have a good tutor!”

  “Ahem, yes.” Elizabeth uncrossed her ankles and rose, setting the journal back on the side table. “And speaking of tutoring, I believe we have some matters of import to discuss.”

  Georgiana seemed to wilt. “I was hoping to defer the accounts,” she frowned, but there was not in her air any hint of petulance. “I cannot bear…” she drew a long breath and her shoulders trembled as one who has been only recently spent in tears. “Oh, Elizabeth, must I truly do this now? I had only begun to feel myself again! May I not take some little more time?”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “You must see to your duty, Georgiana. These responsibilities will not vanish simply because you wish them away.”

  The girl was eyeing the writing desk with open scepticism, her body language screaming out that she would rather not even be in the same room with such duties. “But they were always Fitzwilliam’s,” she objected. “I cannot possibly—”

  “Did you never call him aught but ‘Fitzwilliam’?” Lydia interrupted. “What a horribly long name to use every day!”

  Georgiana stared as if Lydia had suggested that the earth had suddenly captured a second moon. “Fitzwilliam was his name,” she answered stubbornly. “Why would I call him anything else?”

  “Well, you see that we all call Elizabeth ‘Lizzy,’ and I heard the colonel call you ‘Georgie.’ Mightn’t you have shortened his name to ‘Fitz’ or something, just between the two of you?”

  “Oh, that would never have suited Fitzwilliam! He was too complicated and imposing for any name but his own. It would have seemed… I do not know… irreverent.”

  “He was hardly a deity,” Elizabeth’s face warmed in amusement, but her heart panged. How long since he had ceased to be anything in her mind but her lost and beloved William?

  Georgiana frowned. “Of course, but you knew him a little, did you not Elizabeth? There was nothing in him to mock or belittle, so a shorter name simply would not have suited.”

  “I suppose not,” was the soft answer.

  “Oh, let us leave off all that dull stuff,” Lydia huffed with impatience. “Today is the first day in two weeks that it has not rained! Let us all go out for a drive, Lizzy. What do you say, Georgiana? I could do with some fresh air, you know,” she poked out her stomach significantly. “It is good for clearing out bad humours, is it not?”

  Georgiana rapidly seconded the idea, but Elizabeth was holding up a hand in protest. “Perhaps tomorrow, Lydia, once other matters have been attended to.” She arched a stern brow at Georgiana, whose new burst of energy seemed to wither all at once.

  Lydia put a hand behind her hip, stretching her distorted frame somewhat, and frowned. “Well, if you are going to insist on being so serious, Lizzy, I shall go back to my flower arranging. At least that is more gay and bright.”

  Elizabeth had remained seated all this while, and as Lydia trod heavily out of the room, Georgiana slid unhappily to a seat opposite her. She pressed her hands into her lap and hung her head, with her shoulders hunched. “I suppose,” the girl mumbled after a moment of reflective silence, “that you think me irresponsible and undisciplined.”

  “Those were not the words I would have chosen,” Elizabeth smiled.

  “It is only that I do not know how I am to take his place here. He did so much… he was so much. It terrifies me to think how short I must fall and how disappointed everyone will be in me!”

  “Can you really think it possible that you could be a disappointment? No one expects you to be him. You have gifts and intelligence of your own, Georgiana, and you are well beloved. The only possible way for you to fail is that you should not try.”

  Georgiana’s mouth worked, and she cast her eyes uncomfortably over Elizabeth’s shoulder, out of the window. “I have not the sort of courage that must be required to command so many matters. I could not even prevent my aunt from taking charge of the house while she was here.”

  Elizabeth choked on a quiet snicker. “Well, I daresay that few would have. Your aunt is a… unique woman.”

  “But even after she had gone, and we had all returned here without her, it was you who took matters in hand! I was too afraid. I saw only how enormous it all was, and I only wanted to lie down and cry. I could never be as strong as you!”

  “Do you think it strength? I do not.”

  Georgiana’s eyes widened. “But Elizabeth, these few weeks, it has been you who have kept things running smoothly here. Oh, I know that everyone speaks with me before anything is done, but it is because you have sent them to do so. You can see what must be done, and you are not afraid… I do not think I could ever be as you are.”

  “Georgiana, did you love your brother?”

  The girl’s mouth fell open in protest. “Why… why Elizabeth, you know I did! He was so much more than a brother, he was… well, he was more my father than our father was. And he was my only friend, really, apart from Richard. How could you say—”

  “Do you still love him?”

  Georgiana’s eyes narrowed as she sensed the trap into which Elizabeth was neatly twirling her. “Of course,” she answered slowly.

  “Then you would certainly wish to honour his memory?”

  The girl bowed her head suddenly, shielding her eyes with her hand. “Oh,” she sighed shakily, “I see what you—” She trailed off, then her he
ad jerked up. She tilted her head and gazed very hard back to Elizabeth. “You said I oughtn’t try to do all as a matter of strength, but from a desire to show respect and… and love. Is that what you said?”

  Elizabeth released a measured breath. “That is what I said,” she confessed.

  Georgiana was blinking rapidly now, little slivers of moisture slipping down each lash. “Oh, Elizabeth!” She flicked a handkerchief from her sleeve to dab her eyes, her pretty lips quivering with the threat of coming sobs. “I should have liked you for a sister!”

  “Here, here,” Elizabeth admonished, her eyes darting in alarm to the door. “That is not what I meant!”

  “But I saw how he admired you, and Lydia said she thought you had suffered some great heart-break… is it true?”

  Elizabeth swallowed, her eyes again lingering on the door, hoping the footman was not standing too close. “That is hardly a proper question, Georgiana, and I would not answer it even if I had liberty to do so. What is true, and what you should know, is that your brother was a good man, and I am guilty of misjudging him upon first impression. I should like to do what little I may to make amends for my foolishness, and I believe he would be pleased to see you taking your place in your home. I mean to help you in any way I can, but I fear that I have already done too much of what should have been yours.”

  Georgiana’s shoulders slumped, disappointed to hear sensible prose when she had looked for tragic poetry. She stared at her slippers, her lips pressed tightly as she sighed. “Forgive me, Elizabeth. I knew what was proper, truly I did… I shall do better.”

  “Dear Georgie,” Elizabeth rose to her feet and captured Georgiana’s hands, drawing her up. “It is not my intention to cast guilt upon you! Heaven knows you have suffered enough of that, as have we all. I only wish to show you that it is your time now.” Elizabeth smiled and tucked a wisp of the girl’s hair behind her ear. “You must shine as only you can do,” she whispered. “You are a Darcy, and you have more courage than you know.”