Master Under Good Regulation

by Kara Louise

  Bingley looked at his friend oddly. “My dear friend, I find most of the ladies of my acquaintance completely admirable!”

  “And that is where we differ, Bingley.”

  Bingley laughed as he continued, “Back to finding a house, Darcy. Were you really serious about helping me find one? And are you are of the firm opinion that I ought to let instead of buy?”

  “I believe it is the most prudent thing to do, Bingley. I know of two houses that would be most satisfactory for you in the area if you would like to take a look at them.”

  Caroline clasped her hands. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, how good it is for you to look after my brother this way. I am sure that any house you recommend would be more than acceptable.”

  I looked up at Caroline and thought to myself, Get yourself up from off his feet, Miss Bingley! Do you not comprehend that he finds this all tiresome?

  Darcy gave the Bingley party a quick tour around the townhouse. With each room he took them into, Bingley would comment on some element of structure or design, Hurst would merely look around him and grunt, but the two ladies offered sugary words of such praise on the elegance, style, fashion, suitability, and anything else in the home of which they considered worthy of praise. By the end of the tour, I felt as though I was walking along a path of spilled honey.

  After being shown the music room, the three men walked out and the ladies lingered behind a little. As I was following them, I had to wait for them to leave. It was then that I overheard Miss Bingley’s comments.

  “Oh, Louisa! I had no idea! Most of Charles’ friends are so boring and dull! Mr. Darcy is quite engaging!”

  “Caroline, calm yourself. With this man, you must play your cards right!”

  “Oh, fear not, Louisa. I am going to do everything I can to make him notice me. How fortunate for us that our brother has befriended not only one of the most handsome man in London, but one of the wealthiest of our acquaintance. And just think of the positive influence he can have on Charles!”

  Both ladies giggled softly. “He is handsome, Caroline. And his home is beyond words. I have also heard that his estate in Derbyshire is one of which any woman would desire to be mistress.”

  “Oh, and when he looks at me, Louisa, my heart absolutely flutters! Have you noticed those deep brown puppy dog eyes he has?”

  Now if you asked me, she suffered under quite a misconception! Puppy dog eyes? Whilst I have every conviction that my master had begun to look remarkably like myself, we were both very much adults now and neither of us have puppy dog eyes!

  The two ladies walked out and I sat there hoping beyond hope that my master would have more sense than to be taken in by this woman who unfortunately was the sister of his best friend.

  *~*~*

  Throughout those winter and ensuing spring months in London, the Bingleys called numerous times. My master took great pleasure in advising Bingley on matters in which his friend seemed deficient. He pointed out the suitability or non-suitability of homes in London to purchase or let, however finding none to Bingley’s liking. To own the truth, Bingley admired practically every one that he saw and had nothing but praise for them. My master would then point out some aspect of the house that he considered less than acceptable, and Mr. Bingley’s partiality would subsequently lessen and he would agree with my master, ready to move on to the next one. My master confided in me that he wondered whether Bingley would ever settle it in his mind which house he preferred over another.

  My master also obliged his friend and invited him as his guest to his club and introduced him to several of his acquaintances that were in Town. They took in the theatre and opera and attended some of the finer private musical concerts to which my master had been invited. He took exceedingly good care of Bingley, advising him in areas he felt his friend required his guidance. Bingley was grateful for his kindness; Miss Bingley was profuse in her indebtedness to him for his care of her brother.

  The two men had an easy friendship that seemed to be strengthened by what each offered the other. Bingley brought a liveliness into my master’s life. He was of a spontaneous, cheerful, and sociable nature in contrast to my master’s composed, controlled, and reserved nature. My master gave painstaking thought to all he did, whereas Bingley often acted impulsively and without a great deal of consideration to the propriety or acceptability of it. It was in those areas that my master often had to caution or admonish him, and Bingley graciously accepted any and all of my master’s counsel whether or not he asked for it.

  Bingley, from my perspective, was a great encouragement for my master, giving him the impetus he needed to put himself in those situations where he most felt uncomfortable. Having Bingley at his side as one who could feel at ease in any social situation compensated for my master’s inability to do so. But I was anxious that my master’s dependence on his friend came at the expense of giving Miss Bingley false hope, for I soon learned that she was of the opinion that he preferred their company -- her company -- to that of those he did not know or knew only slightly.

  I overheard her more than once gloat to her sister about how he preferred to dance with her than with any other woman and that he would often not dance at all if she were already engaged. She would insist that he preferred her company in conversation over that of any other lady in attendance. Unfortunately, his obstinate preference to associate only with those with whom he was well acquainted, whether it be in conversation or dancing, was working well in Miss Bingley’s favour. I inwardly groaned as I considered that she most likely did all the talking in those instances and as for the dancing, I knew he considered it a punishment to dance with a lady unless he was particularly acquainted with her. As I never heard him speak of one, I doubted he was getting particularly acquainted with any other young lady.

  Whilst I was gratified that I did not perceive any particular regard on his part for Miss Bingley, I could not deny the fact that they were frequently in each other’s company, which served to ease my master’s discomfort in the larger social gatherings in which they found themselves. It appeared my master was entirely oblivious of Miss Bingley’s misconceptions regarding his attentions toward her and did not suspect that his behaviour was only serving to give rise to her misapprehensions. This did not make me happy at all!

  My master found himself accepting more and more invitations to social engagements that year, whilst his father turned just as many more down. But it was not due to his inclination to avoid the ladies who now looked upon him as marriageable material. His health was of increasing concern. He did not quite feel that he had the stamina to which he was accustomed, but could not pinpoint any reason for it. Consequently, that year he returned to the quiet and comfort of Pemberley, leaving his son to enjoy -- or endure -- the season without him.

  *~*~*

  At length we returned to Pemberley, obliged to forfeit our yearly Rosings visit in lieu of my master assisting his father with estate management due to his poor health. We were both quite alarmed when we arrived and perceived his thinning features, pallid face, and overall weakness. Convinced that the responsibility of running the estate was the cause for his worsened condition, my master was insistent that his father immediately relinquish his duties to him, whilst his father was just as adamant that he continue in them and tried to put up a brave front. My master and I could both sense that Mr. Darcy was not able to do as much as he used to. He no longer took walks. He slept more and ate less. We were both concerned for his well being and the doctors offered very little hope.

  As the year progressed, his health declined even more rapidly. During the summer months, he was often taken outdoors to sit in the warmth of the sunshine, in the hopes that it would bring some comfort to his growing frailty. But despite being wrapped in a blanket, he spent most of the time shivering from the cold, though the rest of us found the heat stifling. Soon, he was too ill to do anything but remain indoors.

  I knew his father’s well being weighed heavily on my master. He was daily having to take on mo
re responsibilities and knew it would not be long before he would be without his father’s good wisdom and counsel. Only in the privacy of our chambers would he admit to his fears. He tossed and turned into the wee hours of the morning and often pulled himself out of his bed, walking to the window and looking out into the darkness of the night.

  He was at a loss to know what to do for Georgiana. She would come to my master with every hope of an encouraging word about their father, but he abhorred any sort of pretence and therefore could not but tell her the truth. Their father was dying.

  I often saw him looking at his young sister with a look of admiration mixed with fear. She was just now blossoming into a young lady. Taller than most girls her age, her formerly awkward, gangly stance was being transformed daily into a gracefully poised young lady before our very eyes. The brightly coloured pinafores that she once wore were now replaced by long gowns; her hair was drawn up instead of falling freely; and her slight girlish carriage was beginning to show tell tale signs of encroaching womanhood, all the while the youthful, innocent expressions of her face betraying the fact that she was still a child.

  My master was well aware that with the death of his father, the management of Pemberley would not be the only thing placed upon him, but the care for his sister as well. I believed him to be well suited for the task of managing the estate, but I know he questioned his ability to be his sister’s guardian. In the darkness of the night he would ask with much anguish, “How am I to bring her through all this? How can I help her bear her grief when I am at a loss to know how to bear it? Am I now to be father and mother as well as brother to her?”

  Mr. Darcy weakened steadily throughout the course of summer and as the winter season approached, he grew even more gravely ill. My master remained at his side, forsaking the invitations calling him to London. He and Georgiana, who was old enough to know what was happening but too young to give up all hope, remained by his side. It was only when Georgiana broke down that I perceived my master had a difficult time reining in his emotions, let alone knowing how to be of any help to her.

  She had been too young to understand when her mother died, but had felt the loss of growing up without one. Now she was facing the loss of her father. As hard as she tried to be as strong as her brother exemplified and her father admonished her to be, she cried frequently.

  In due course, the family was called to come to his side as he grew weaker and weaker and there seemed to be little hope that he would recover.

  I was the only one allowed in the room with my master when his father summoned the strength and asked for an audience with his son alone.

  I had not been able to see Mr. Darcy for some time, as he lay upon a bed out of my sight. But as I heard his weak, shaky voice, I could only imagine how frail he must look.

  “Son,” he began and took in some deep breaths. “I know my time is short…”

  “No, Father. I know you can pull through.”

  I was able to see his father wave a feeble hand through the air. “No, no. This is no time for empty words of hope. I know it is my time.”

  Darcy schooled his features, making every attempt to remain collected. “Yes, Father.”

  He took in a few more deep breaths. “I am entrusting Pemberley to you, as I am sure you well know. I am confident you will do well with its management. You have made me quite proud.”

  “Thank you, Father.”

  I saw Mr. Darcy reach out and take his son’s hand. “Little Georgiana… take good care of her. I leave her care to you and your cousin, Richard. You two are of like mind and can be a support to one another in the decisions you will have to make in her regard. I am certain that she will be no trouble to you.”

  “I am confident of that, Father. We will do our best to do what would please you.”

  He coughed a couple times and it seemed almost that he could not catch his breath. Finally, “I have everything written out in my will.”

  “I would give everything up if only I could do something to help you.”

  “No, my son. I have lived a good life. I am ready now to go join Anne. It has been too long.”

  My master looked down and he rubbed his cheek, I think to remove a tear that escaped his eye.

  “Do not forget the living I promised Wickham. When it comes vacant, it is his. Son, I ask that you personally see to his advancement.”

  My master tensed and said nothing.

  “I have a fund set aside for him. His father knows all about it. If you have any questions, ask him.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Fitzwilliam?” His father squeezed his hand. “I am prodigiously proud of you. I know it will be difficult at first, but you will do well. You are strong. Be strong for Georgiana, will you?”

  My master’s voice was shaky, but he answered that he would.

  The rest of the family came in when they were finished speaking and whilst they gathered around him, I noticed my master slowly walk toward the door. He stepped outside of the room and I followed.

  I could see that his grief was waging war with his anger. He was about to lose his father whilst at the same time he would be obligated to honour his father’s dying request. He and I both knew that Wickham was not worth the admiration his father extended to him. He knew it was too late and it would be inappropriate to share with him Wickham’s true nature now. He would allow his father to die thinking well of him.

  He took in some deep breaths and leaned against the wall, his head falling back against it, shoulders slumping. My heart skipped a beat as his fists tightened, pounding the wall behind him. He suddenly seemed to lose all stability and began to sink slowly down the wall, letting out a brief sob, which he quickly stifled.

  As if coming to his senses, he swallowed hard and took in another deep breath. He brought himself back up to a stiff, upright position, ran his hand brusquely through his hair, and steeled himself to return back into the room.

  Chapter 8

  It was not until the following day that the well-regarded and highly esteemed Mr. Darcy finally took his last breath. Family, close friends, acquaintances, and tenants hastened to Pemberley to pay their respects. In addition, many letters of condolences were received, remembering Mr. Darcy as a fine man of good standing, exceptional honesty, and exceeding generosity. Numerous preparations and matters of business now required my master’s consideration and he could spare but little time to appease my desire for attention. But I understood. I faithfully and steadfastly stood by his side when I had the occasion, wishing greatly to help ease the pain, but unable to do anything but support him by my presence.

  Among those who came to Pemberley was Lady Cat, who surprised us all by bringing her daughter, Anne. This was Anne’s first return to Pemberley since being a young child and she appeared quite in awe of it. As she was ushered in, her eyes took in every detail from the wood floors to the high ceilings and every object of decoration in between. I believed her to be comparing her home and this place of which she had every assurance from her mother of becoming mistress. I wondered if she preferred the natural understated elegance of Pemberley to the garish opulent display that was Rosings.

  Our annual visit to Rosings last year had been forestalled due to Mr. Darcy’s illness and I noticed, even more markedly, the young woman who was trying to emerge from behind the constraints her mother imposed. I could look deep into her eyes and see her desire to become an admired and appreciated young lady instead of the pitied and often overlooked frail thing she had become. But it appeared that no matter how much she wished it, she could not wilfully bring it to fulfilment.

  It did not surprise me that they had not brought along Anne’s greatest and most faithful companion, her dog. I was of the persuasion that Lady Cat would never consent to travelling with one. It only made me more grateful for the delightful diversions in which my master included me. And I was more than willing to stand in his stead.

  During their stay, Anne was frequently left with her companion and nurse, Mrs.
Jenkinson, as her mother was often diligently -- and insufferably -- involved in either giving unsolicited advice or issuing outright orders. Therefore, I was able to spend a good amount of time in the company of Anne. There was little I could do for my master as he received the family members who came to pay their respects and give comfort and sympathy whilst at the same time having to step forward into his new role as Master of Pemberley.

  Whilst the household was a flurry of people, it bid me well to remain out from everyone’s path and I took to remaining faithfully by Anne’s side. Georgiana often furtively slipped away from the others and joined us. I think the two young women felt a sense of camaraderie together out of everyone’s way as one struggled with reserve and more than a little trepidation in dealing with the multitude of people in her home and the other struggled with the mere strength she needed to exert just to extend a polite greeting.

  Georgiana was very appreciative of everyone’s kind and comforting words, yet she was at a loss to know how to respond. I sensed that she was in some kind of a daze as each day passed, struggling to be as strong as her father would have wanted and her brother exemplified, all the while wishing to run to her room and give in to her tears. She found a respite with Anne and myself and took advantage of any opportunity to join us.

  Consequently, the three of us could often be found sitting silently off in a room to ourselves. I would alternately situate myself beside one or the other and they would each methodically run their hands over my head and back. Whilst I confess I enjoyed the attention, I believed it also soothed their aching spirits and grieving hearts.

  Neither felt compelled to say much, other than an occasional smile to the other. Anne would reach out and gently pat Georgiana’s hand if she noticed that tears were beginning to pool in her eyes and Georgiana, in turn, would offer to call for some tray to be brought in if Anne wished for something to eat or drink. Other than that, they sat contentedly in hushed stillness.