Miss Darcy's Beaux

by Eliza Shearer

  My aunt looked at him conspiratorially and lowered her voice.

  "My maid has it on good authority that the youngest sister, the one who infamously eloped with my late brother-in-law's steward's son, is still welcome at Pemberley. That the Bennet family circle should continue to receive her as if nothing had happened shows a shocking lack of delicacy. But that her presence should also be welcome in what used to be a bastion of exquisite manners and impeccable morals simply has no words."

  Lady Catherine's vitriol brought Colonel Fitzwilliam back to reality.

  "May I remind you that Mr and Mrs Wickham are now married, Lady Catherine?"

  "Heaven knows why. The young man was a bright child, but your uncle was too soft on him. For a time I thought he would make the most of the undue privileges he had received, acquire presence, go into the law and marry a superior, someone with money. He certainly had the looks, the charm and the polish to aim for a change in situation. I was very surprised when he didn't, and I'm not often surprised. Regardless, that Mrs Wickham should be received at Pemberley is truly scandalous."

  "Your words are harsh, Lady Catherine,” intervened my cousin, alarmed at the turn the conversation was taking.

  "Nonsense! In every single elopement, whether it succeeds or not, the blame is always on the female, for a decorous woman would never consent to such dishonourable plans. If anything, her relatives should also be seen as responsible, for she would have necessarily been subject to lack of attentive vigilance, which as everyone knows can fuel disreputable behaviour in even the most virtuous girls. A young woman who dares to enter matrimony without the knowledge or approval of her parents or guardians should never be allowed into polite society again."

  The spoon fell off my fingers as if they were made out of warm butter, and it clanked against the porcelain of the bowl in front of me. Colonel Fitzwilliam glanced in my direction with concern.

  "The soup is delicious, Lady Catherine. Is Cook new?" he asked, in a debonair voice.

  But my aunt wasn't having any of it.

  "You now understand why I have come to believe that Darcy's home is not a suitable place for Georgiana anymore. She is at such a delicate age."

  Mr Collins, who had sat through my aunt's criticisms without saying a word and had such mirth in his eyes it was evident he had been enjoying them, intervened with his usual servility.

  "Lady Catherine, I beg you, say no more. I fully recognise and appreciate the gravity of your predicament, and I pray that your pious heart will find the necessary strength to overcome the worries brought upon you by your ungrateful nephew and niece-in-law.”

  Then, to my surprise, Mr Collins turned to me.

  "Miss Darcy, allow me to remind you that you are the most fortunate young woman in England. Your aunt's concern for you is such that she has forced herself to forsake the natural desire for withdrawal and prayer that comes after the loss of a child to attend to your needs. You are blessed to have her as your guide in London."

  I nodded. It was sad that cousin Anne's tragic demise should be mentioned at all, but at least we had moved on from talking about the eternal damnation that elopements brought to young ladies. Mr Collins was right in that Lady Catherine had been unusually quiet for a good three of years after her daughter's death. At the time she wasn't on the best of terms with Fitzwilliam, and things at Pemberley were particularly busy with the arrival of little Will. I felt guilty. Perhaps I should have spent more time with my aunt at Rosings. It wasn't the most appealing of prospects, but it was my duty towards an older relative. I feared I had been too self-absorbed.

  Lady Catherine was not entirely displeased with the way the conversation was going.

  "Mr Collins, were you more observant, you would have noticed that Georgiana is perfectly aware of the extraordinariness of the situation. Most pressingly, she only has this season to find a husband."

  My ears perked up. I knew that Lady Catherine was determined to marry me, ideally before the end of the summer, but it had never crossed my mind that her mission had a particular deadline.

  "I thought Miss Darcy was but twenty", said Mrs Collins with surprise.

  "She will not be for long now, and no female in my family has ever married past their twenty-first year. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a woman over that age has lost her bloom, and it is very likely that she will remain a spinster forever."

  Silence fell around the table. Mrs Collins coloured deeply, and her husband patted her hand.

  "Of course, this applies mostly to our superiors, my dear Mrs Collins,” he muttered in a tone loud enough for everyone to hear.

  "Oh, Mr Collins, your wife is the exception to the rule,” Lady Catherine added with no remorse in her voice. “But you and I know how she was always your second choice, and that the lady you originally intended was indeed not yet twenty. Imagine, however, if you had ended up marrying her."

  My aunt let out a strange laugh. Mr Collins chuckled nervously; Mrs Collins' knuckles were white.

  I didn't understand. Who had Mr Collins wanted to marry? Judging by my aunt's comments, he had been turned down by a female she didn't favour.

  Elizabeth?

  Impossible. The notion was grotesque. Still, Mr Collins and Elizabeth were cousins, and he was set to inherit Longbourn, the Bennet family estate, which was subject to an entail. There might have been a point in the past when the match was considered very desirable. I had to stifle a giggle.

  During the rest of the meal, the conversation was kept safely away from any sensitive topics by my diligent cousin. The last course was being served when Mr Collins circumspectly raised the topic of my marriage again. Lady Catherine had been speaking about her many seasons in the capital back in the day when her father, the late Earl Fitzwilliam, was a peer.

  "Believe me, the entertainment on offer during the London season used to be the best in the world. Parties were always opulent and dignified affairs, with the most exquisite musicians, the most talented dancers and incredibly imaginative food and drink concoctions. The fashion, too, was much more becoming to both males and females. Everyone looks so common these days. However, Georgiana must be seen, so I will have to make sacrifices and go out in society if she is to marry well."

  Mr Collins turned towards me with the look of a hunter picking a puppy out of its mother's litter.

  "I have no doubt that Miss Darcy will be received with much admiration. Have you any candidates in mind for her, Lady Catherine?"

  I felt affronted at Mr Collins' question and the inherent expectation it contained. My aunt certainly wasn't going to discuss my prospects in front of her vicar and his wife.

  How wrong I was.

  Lady Catherine smacked her lips.

  ”I have great designs for Georgiana. I believe she could easily attract the attention of gentlemen of a certain stature."

  Mr Collins almost applauded her.

  "Someone titled! Indeed, what a perfect idea, Lady Catherine. Your niece has a generous settlement, and the number of noble families that find themselves in want of prosperous alliances to enhance their inherited estates seems to be increasing by the day. Moreover, I have always said to Mrs Collins that your niece has exceptional posture, just what is required in aristocratic circles."

  I believed I cared little about what a man like Mr Collins thought of me, but his words stung. The fact that, when it came to my looks, even a natural flatterer of his statue could praise little other than my posture was disheartening.

  By the time Mr and Mrs Collins left, I had a splitting headache, a knot in my stomach and the overwhelming desire to hide in my room for the rest of my London stay. I was also astonished that a woman as apparently judicious as Mrs Collins should have married someone like Mr Collins. But before I was able to retire for bed, my cousin brought up the subject of my suitors again.

  "With all due respect, Lady Catherine, although Georgiana's settlement is indeed very large, it may not be sufficient for the purposes of marrying an aristocrat.
"

  My aunt dismissed his objections with a hand gesture.

  "I may as well tell you now. I have decided that, considering that my dear Anne is no longer with us, Georgiana will be the heiress of Rosings Park."

  Hearing those words was like being slapped on both ears at the same time. Rosings Park. I was going to be an extraordinarily rich woman. Certainly, much more than I ever imagined, or even cared. I already had more than I would ever need. I felt faint. My aunt's plans would make my fortune much harder to bear, for I had no doubt that Lady Catherine's generosity came attached with expectations of the highest order.

  My cousin was clearly as shocked as I was.

  "Don't look at me like that, Fitzwilliam," Lady Catherine snapped. "You will get a very generous settlement from me, which heaven knows you need. I know of your weaknesses, of course, I do. But think about Georgiana. When the knowledge emerges that she will receive the bulk of the de Bourgh's inheritance, the highest-ranking men in town will be interested in her. We simply have to make sure she is seen, and that she looks magnificent in every single outing."

  Lady Catherine called her lapdog, put it on her lap and gave the pet a biscuit.

  "This reminds me, Georgiana," she said turning to me, “has your new brooch been delivered yet?"

  Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at me with surprise.

  "Have you been shopping for new jewellery, Georgiana? Darcy told me that your mother left you a rather extensive collection."

  "Oh, Fitzwilliam, how little you understand women," barked Lady Catherine in his direction. "No wonder you are not married yet. A few of my sister's gems are passable, but most of the settings look very old-fashioned and it is about time Georgiana started buying pieces to suit her own taste. Next week we will go back to the jewellers and have some of her mother's things remodelled into more current styles, so she can at least get some wear out of them. She could do with some more pearl strings. Georgiana, you should also ask your brother to send the rest of them, or at least as many of them as you can convince him to part with. Darcy can be ridiculously sentimental sometimes."

  I thought of Mama's gems, how carefully they had been stored all these years and the reverence with which my brother showed them to me on particular occasions. Each piece had its own story. The emerald ring Mama received from my father when she gave him the heir he so desired; the thick, solid gold bracelet with exotic carvings that my great-grandfather brought back for my great-grandmother from a heroic journey to the East; the pearl and ruby necklace that His Majesty Charles II gifted a beautiful great-great-aunt who, rumour had it, had become his mistress. Fitzwilliam would never consent to their desecration.

  The Colonel, well aware of this, was watching me with intent. However, disagreeing with Lady Catherine when my future happiness so depended on her favour was unthinkable. My aunt despised disobedience, particularly in young females. Upon realising that I would not object to Lady Catherine's plans, Colonel Fitzwilliam spoke somewhat abruptly.

  "Lady Catherine, Georgiana may find that she needs her brother's approval before resetting her mother's jewels."

  "Nonsense. The gems are hers by birthright."

  "Not all of them. There is also Mrs Darcy."

  At the mention of Elizabeth, Lady Catherine roared like a wounded lioness.

  "I will not have that woman tell my niece what to do. She has harmed her prospects badly enough by keeping her locked up and under her watch all this time."

  I was shocked at my aunt's words. That wasn't at all my experience of the time I had spent with my brother and his wife at Pemberley. It had been a happy time, only occasionally tarnished by my melancholy at the memory of Wickham.

  My cousin was livid, but his manners never wavered.

  "Lady Catherine," he said with perfect command, "Seeing that you do not intend to do the same now Georgiana is staying with you, I assume that you will allow her to visit Mr and Mrs Gardiner, Miss Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet."

  My aunt looked at him with distaste.

  "Colonel, I object to you making such a suggestion."

  The Colonel didn't lose his cool.

  "The Gardiners and the Misses Bennet are all close relations of Georgiana’s on account of her brother's marriage. And I must say, I think very highly of Mrs Gardiner. She is an elegant, highly respectable woman who is exerting an excellent influence on her younger charges. Moreover, Georgiana is well acquainted with the Gardiners through their visits to Pemberley. She has also met Mrs Darcy's sisters, who are approximately her age, on several occasions. Surely, if she does not see them in London, her decision will quickly become the subject of malicious gossip."

  Lady Catherine was silent for a few minutes.

  "I suppose it would be improper for Georgiana to avoid their company while she is in town," she finally said, "but I cannot abide the thought of receiving them at Grosvenor Square."

  I felt compelled to make myself heard. After all, the discussion was about my social circle.

  “Dear Aunt, perhaps I could invite them to join me on a trip in your barouche if you are so kind as to acquiesce," I said in a thin voice.

  Lady Catherine seemed satisfied with my idea. After agreeing that I would send them a note arranging an encounter outside of the house, so my aunt didn't have to see them, there was no further comment on the matter.

  Chapter 8

  The following days were a flurry of more dress fittings and tedious beauty treatments that Jones applied to my skin with the veneration that one may save for one's evening prayers. I was often tempted to tell her that no amount of attention would be able to transform me into a society beauty overnight, but she laboured with such belief that I had no option but to keep quiet. My wound was healing quickly, just as the stranger had promised. I still had the urge to find him, properly thank him for his assistance on that fateful day and return to him the hip flask that was hidden at the bottom of one my trunks. I had polished the dull metal with a cloth, and it now gleamed, the scratches barely visible, just the dents telling the world about its temerarious existence. I had to give it back to its rightful owner, but I didn't know where to begin.

  The day of my court appearance finally arrived. I dressed with the help of Cosette, my aunt's French maid, because Lady Catherine deemed Jones to be unsuitable for such a complex task and dismissed her for the day, much to the girl’s chagrin. As was to be expected, the finished costume was incredibly elaborate. It had a bodice in the softest white velvet with a superb crisscrossing of silver ropes and tassels and a delicate silver border at the bottom. The white satin skirt and long train were delicately embroidered, showing an intricate display of leaves, flowers and feathers which represented Pemberley, the Darcy family estate. I wondered how the seamstresses had managed to create a thing of such beauty in so little time, but I expected the answer to be in the high price paid for the outfit.

  Cosette took her time, carefully and systematically pinning, buttoning and lacing the many openings of the dress while I tried to keep as still as possible. I had been instructed not to eat or drink anything, so as to avoid bodily urgencies once at St James, and under the stiff and heavy costume I could feel my stomach protesting at the lack of breakfast that morning.

  Cosette's brown eyes were as stern as my aunt's.

  "Please try to relax, madam. I cannot work properly if you move all the time," she mumbled in a thick accent as she was adjusting the white ostrich feathers in the heavy diamond bandeau placed on my head.

  After some fumbling, the last feather went into the headpiece. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and barely recognised the young woman looking back at me. Cosette had deftly applied some discreet ointments to my face, and as a result, my skin seemed to light up from the inside. I instinctively checked my hairline: the small scar was barely visible. It was quickly fading, just as my remembrance of the features of my saviour, which was as well. His threadbare coat was a world away from my court dress.

  A few minutes later the door opened an
d Lady Catherine entered the room. She appraised me with narrow eyes, then slowly nodded.

  "Excellent job, Cosette. Georgiana, may I see your curtsey?"

  I gulped. I had practised my deep curtsey uncountable times in the last week, always with the hoops around my waist, but never in full dress or wearing the bandeau. Slowly, I took hold of my wide skirt and bent my head forward, keeping my neck straight, as if an invisible puppeteer was pulling my feathered crown in his direction. Then, I started to bend my knees outward, again making sure that my back remained as rigid as a plank. When my knees were like twigs about to break, I stopped and kept my body as still as my legs would allow.

  I waited for Lady Catherine to signal for me to come out of the position. My legs were burning and my knees started to shake, but my aunt remained silent. The tension was beginning to make my whole body tremble. I kept it as much as I could under control, silently begging for the torture to end. Finally, a light tap on my shoulder with a fan. Lady Catherine was giving me permission to straighten my legs. Slowly, I started to do so. Then I heard Colette gasp.

  Through the corner of my eye, I saw one of the white feathers come undone and fall to the floor like an autumnal leaf. Lady Catherine's approving nods turned into a mask of distaste. She looked at her maid with those cold, calculating eyes of hers.

  "Cosette, this is unacceptable," she said with a menacing air. "If you make a fool of my niece, you shall be making a fool her sponsor. And nobody makes a fool of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Do you understand?"

  The maid was distraught, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she nodded profusely and gave her desperate assurances that all would be fixed in time for the presentation. An hour later, after Cosette had thoroughly inspected all the feathers, ribbons and other accessories in my outfit to ensure they were all safely attached, I was finally placed in my aunt's barouche, and we left in the direction of St James.

  We got to the palace in due course, but had to wait for a long time, and standing, alas. I had the suspicion that titled young ladies were given precedence; for once, my wealth and social status didn't have the least importance.