Miss Darcy's Diversions

by Ronald McGowan

  The opportunity to do just that was very soon presented to us, as Mrs. Goddard herself swept into the room with due curtsies and many apologies for having kept us waiting. She was a very tall lady of indeterminate age, whose long, voluminous gown of russety black, topped by a white lace collar gave her the appearance of a snow-capped mountain.

  "It is I who must apologise," replied Fitzwilliam. "To call unannounced like this must be a great imposition and an even greater inconvenience to one whose time is so taken up, as yours must be, madam. But we chanced to find ourselves passing through Highbury on our way to our lodgings in Leatherhead, and I thought to myself 'Highbury? Is that not where Mrs. Goddard's establishment is situate?' We have had so much correspondence recently, and my friend spoke so well of you and your academy that I could not resist the temptation to call and see for myself this paragon of all the scholarly virtues. I can only beg your forgiveness and trust in your good nature to obtain it."

  Mrs. Goddard looked rather taken aback by this speech, as well she might. I was rather taken aback myself, since we had come here for no other reason than to make our inspection of the school and decide on its suitability.

  "Not at all, sir," she murmured. "Not at all. Always glad to meet a parent - a prospective parent, that is to say- well, not quite a parent, really, but rather..."

  Fitzwilliam put the poor lady out of her misery by interrupting her.

  "Permit me to introduce my sister, Miss Darcy. If all goes as we plan, she will be joining you here from the beginning of the next term. Perhaps - or do I ask too much - perhaps you would be so good as to show us around your establishment and explain exactly what you do here?"

  I remember cringing inwardly at the time, and wondering what my fate would be at the hands of this giantess should she care to take the request as an imposition and resent it while I was in her power. I could have spared myself the trouble, however, for resentment, it proved hereafter, was not in Mrs. Goddard's nature, and, indeed, she construed the request as a compliment, and was only too pleased to comply.

  "I should be delighted, sir," she replied. "But I fear you must take us as you find us. Had we had some notice of such a distinguished visitor, we should have made preparations to welcome you fittingly, but, as it is, well…"

  Fitzwilliam forestalled her again by remarking that he was sure that there would be never be any need for special preparations for his visits, which would not be lacking, although should my Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh choose to come calling, that would be a different matter.

  So we processed about the house, looking into classrooms and common rooms, dining rooms and dormitories.

  "Our dormitories are kept spotless, as you see," was the proud proprietress' comment, "although the parlour boarders, of course, have their own rooms."

  Those rooms, which we had necessarily to view next, were in a much less consistent state of order, the lack of uniformity being attributed to individual taste.

  "For we do not regiment our girls too much here, you know. We aim to turn out young ladies, not automata."

  And so we went on, though the kitchens, the offices, the spacious garden at the rear, with my brother all the while asking pertinent and searching questions, while I stood mute, too much in awe of the office of headmistress to open my mouth.

  "Let us discuss terms, then," said Fitzwilliam at last, "and while we do so, perhaps Georgiana might care to look about the village in the company of one of your girls? Do you have a young lady you could trust to show her around, and perhaps answer any questions which might occur to her?"

  "Let me see," replied Mrs. Goddard, her eye lighting on a group of young girls picking flowers in one corner of the garden.

  "Harriet," she called, "Harriet Smith! Come here my dear. I have a job for you."

  A fair-haired girl of about my age - or, rather, about my size - detached herself from the group and ran across the lawn before making her courtesy, her arms still full of flowers.

  "Harriet," said the headmistress, "this is Miss Darcy, who may be joining us next term. Be so good as to show her about the village and explain our little ways to her, while I speak to Mr. Darcy."

  We made our bobs, and stood staring at each other while our elders departed.

  The silence lengthened until I could stand it no longer.

  "You will drop those paeonies if you do not take care," I said. "Yes, there they go."

  For my native guide had started at my speaking, and done just what I had warned her against.

  The recovery of the fallen blooms and setting them in order served to further our acquaintance. A minor mishap can have that effect, I have observed. It is hard to stand too much upon one's dignity while picking up paeonies and preserving their petals from the perils of perishing.

  I made a remark to that effect, which caused my companion to laugh out loud.

  "How witty and clever you must be, Miss Darcy," she said, in a voice that was only slightly squeaky, "to come out with such a thing on the spur of the moment. I wish I were witty and clever. But perhaps, if we are to be friends, you may share some of your wit with me? I do hope we shall be friends."

  "I am sure we shall be," I replied, "but if we are to be friends, you must not call me 'Miss Darcy'. I know your name is Harriet. Mine is Georgiana."

  "Thank you, Miss D... Thank you, Georgiana," she replied. "Well, if you will just let me put these flowers in a vase, and speak to Miss Tucker to tell her Mrs. Goddard has sent me on an errand, I shall be at your disposal. I have been lucky today, missing Miss Tucker's class in the Use of the Globes. I never can tell east from west, nor azimuth from apogee, and it is so embarrassing to be kept behind."

  In five minutes she returned, wearing a blue surtout and a straw bonnet.

  "Do you like my new bonnet?" She enquired. "I sewed the ribbons on myself. They match my coat, do you see?"

  So saying, she led me through a side gate and out onto the village street, for it seemed that Highbury did not run to more than one thoroughfare with any pretensions to a hard surface, although otherwise it was not lacking in any of the amenities commonly found in an English village. The Church, and the Inn hardly needed explanation, but she took great care in pointing out the various shops, the cobbler's, the blacksmith's, the apothecary's and so on. At the draper's we must needs linger awhile, and gaze our fill upon muslins and taffetas, and also upon bonnets and turbans, for the same shop fulfilled the office of milliner.

  I had never thought that anyone could make so many comments upon two pieces of lace as my companion. Now I think about it, however, there were not so very many comments, but rather a few observations and entreaties repeated an unlikely number of times.

  She thought the white one with the floral pattern looked best, but perhaps it would not wash as well as the cream coloured one with all the stars upon it.

  The white was prettier, perhaps, but the cream was much thicker and denser, like carved ivory, and would probably wear better. Not but what that the white was flimsy. No it would probably do very well, but… She was quite at a loss. What did I think she should do?

  I restrained myself, quite heroically, I thought, from commenting that I had never seen a young girl less in need of tucking lace than little Harriet, and honestly tried to apply myself to the question.

  “The Chantilly is very sweet,” I said, “but the Venise is impressive, too. It all depends on your personal taste.”

  I had heard my aunt use that last sentence when unwilling to state an opinion, and, frankly, I thought they were both hideous, typical of the cheap wares one would expect in a country shop.

  “But I really cannot make up my mind,” moaned Harriet, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “Then buy them both. I am sure you will make use of them.”

  “But the expense? Such extravagance?”

  I was tiring of this game, so I merely said “Pooh!” and pushed open the shop door.

  We were immediately set upon by an almost spherical female per
son of a certain age.

  “Why, it’s Miss Smith!” she greeted us. “Are you come to look at your lace again? Made your mind up yet, have you?”

  “She has not,” I replied, “but I have. Since I see that you are familiar with my friend’s dilemma, we will take a yard of each, unless, that is, you have some Alençon that we can look at.”

  The draper’s eyes widened.

  “I see that you understand lace, miss, and am sorry to be unable to oblige you. We get no call for such things around here. Why, the Venice there has hardly moved since we got it in.”

  “Then a yard each of the Chantilly and the Venise it shall be. You may send it to Mrs. Goddard’s. Or should you like to take it with you, Harriet?”

  “Er, um…”

  “Of course you would. You may wrap it up now, thank you.”

  “Are you sure, miss? The Venice is fourpence a yard and the Chantilly tuppence.”

  I produced a silver sixpence from my pocket and laid it on the counter. I may not have my thousands a year yet, but Fitzwilliam has always seen to it that I have plenty of pin money. This is one of the many ways in which he is strikingly unlike Aunt Catherine.

  Harriet merely stared at me in wonder, her mouth opening and closing slowly, but no sound emerging.

  This state of affairs lasted until well after we had quitted the shop, and were passing the blacksmith’s again. The noise of his hammering perhaps encouraged my companion to break her silence.

  “Miss Darcy,” she squeaked at last, “how good and kind you are. But how shall I ever repay you? I will have no more money until next term.”

  “My friends call me Georgiana,” I replied, “ and I hope that you will be one of them. And you must not think of repayment. I like to give presents to my friends, and you have done so much for me today, showing me around like this and making me feel welcome.”

  “But tell me, what is it really like staying at Mrs. Goddard’s? Are you happy there? Do you think I should be happy?”

  Looking back, I see that that was a very hard question to answer on such short acquaintance. Young ladies of ten or eleven, however, are not troubled by the same doubts that assail them only a few years later, and the enquiry set my companion prattling on about her life at Highbury.

  There was very little true knowledge to be gained from all her anecdotes, except that she herself was happy enough where she was. Whether I should be was another matter. I did not know whether to be glad or otherwise that she told no tales of starvation, privation, consumption and constant whippings, such as one hears and reads of boarding schools in general. On the one hand, such a regime would not suit me at all. On the other hand, evidence of it would have given me the perfect excuse for refusing to go there. But my luck was out, and I could not by any means persuade her even to hint at as much as a little light bullying.

  As we were walking back to the school, we were met by Fitzwilliam. He was, as always, meticulously polite, asking to be introduced to my young companion, and complimenting her upon her dress. His presence, however, put a damper upon our burgeoning intimacy. In the course of our walk, Harriet had become positively garrulous, but now she restricted herself to answering questions, and the answers she gave were all of the “Yes, sir” “No, sir” variety. She never ventured quite as far as “Three bags full, sir”, but I could not help thinking that it was only a matter of time.

  Fortunately, we found ourselves back at our chaise before that time arrived, and were able to take our leave of both Harriet and Mrs. Goddard, who had come out to see us off, at the same time.

  “Well,” said Fitzwilliam, as we joined the turnpike, “that concludes my business with Mrs. Goddard, for the present, at any rate.”

  “Does it?” I replied, for I was not feeling best pleased at the thought of having to go to school anywhere, let alone miles from anyone I knew. “And what did you think of her and her establishment?”

  “I think that they will both do very well,” he relied. “But what is more important is, what do you think?”

  “I think Highbury is not Pemberley, and Mrs. Goddard is not my own, dear brother.”

  I was still young enough in those days to say what I actually thought when asked for my opinion. I have learnt since that such ingenuousness will never do, and it did not do then.

  “Come, my dear,” was his reply, “have we not rehearsed this question many times before now?”

  “But I really, really, really do not want to leave Pemberley. And you would not want to send me to such a place if you had any notion of what it is truly like. Harriet told me such tales, of how the teachers starve the girls all the time, while eating nothing but the best, and lots of it, themselves. That is why she is so small and thin, you see.”

  “I should not call Miss Smith precisely buxom, but I did not remark any great lack of development, for a twelve-year old.”

  “Ah, but she told me she is eighteen, and entirely attributes her thinness and lack of stature to undernourishment and other privations. And you would shudder to hear of all the other ordeals to which the girls are subject.”

  And, warming to my subject, I recounted those tribulations in detail, beginning with the twice-daily beatings for the suppression of original sin, and proceeding to the theft and sale of all their possessions, even down to their shifts, to swell Mrs. Goddard’s coffers, and their constant labour at picking oakum from dawn to dusk, except for a favoured few, acknowledged deft with the needle, who were allowed to sew mailbags instead.

  Had I stopped there, I might, perhaps, have been attempted to be believed, but, on reflection, it was possibly overgilding the lily to denounce the headmistress as a French agent, who sent a different girl into London every week, disguised as an orange-seller, to stand outside St. James’s Palace all day and report who went in and out, all such information to be passed on the Corsican Tyrant for his use in preparing his invasion plans.

  At this point, Fitzwilliam exchanged his puzzled frown for a genuine guffaw.

  “Oh, my dear, darling sister,” he cried, “what should I do without you? What a future lies before you as a writer of romantic novels. Be sure to note down all these ideas for future use.”

  I could see that there was really no more to be said, but I could not help but ask, “But why are you so set on my going to school in the first place? And why that place in particular? Who was it recommended it to you?”

  “We have rehearsed this question, too, until there is no more to be said.”

  “It really does not concern you who gave me the recommendation, but it was the attorney who looks after my affairs in London, Mr. Knightley. He is a sound, sensible, gentlemanlike man, who was born near here. “

  “In fact, his brother is squire of the neighbouring village of Donwell, as well as owning a large part of Highbury, and I was in hopes that he might be persuaded to keep an eye on your welfare. Perhaps he may be able to prevail on Mrs. Goddard to reduce your beating to only once a day, and occasionally to vary your dry crust with the odd bowl of thin gruel?”

  “In any case, we are to call upon him tomorrow, and we may see for ourselves.”

  Chapter Five: Donwell Abbey

  I had that evening and the ride over to Donwell in the morning in which to think of what I could do or say to get my way. How willful I still was, in those days! Perhaps I ought not to find it so remarkable, considering how willful I was after I had left Highbury. But more of that anon, as they say in the old plays that Fitzwilliam loves so much.

  Donwell Abbey, when at last we reached it, down an excessively dusty lane, proved to be an old-fashioned, stone-built pile of a style that has not been fashionable for nigh on two hundred years. I thought it very odd at the time, having been used only to modern architecture at Rosings and Pemberley. I should have been more receptive to its charms a little later on, during my Gothick phase, although even then there was something just a little too self-satisfied, a little too comfortable about the house to serve for the setting of a Gothick tale.
One could not help feeling that any skeletons in its cupboards would be more likely to rattle their rocking chairs than their chains.

  The servant who opened the door to us would have done very well for the role of ‘wrinkled old retainer’ in the said Gothick novel, had it not been for his friendly smile and respectable demeanour. He showed us very politely to our seats while he took Fitzwilliam’s card in to his master.

  Mr. Knightley came to greet us almost at once. I suppose he was probably still in his late twenties then, but to me he seemed immeasurably old, older even than Fitzwilliam.

  “Mr. Darcy?” he said. “My brother has written to me about you, and I am very glad to make your acquaintance in the flesh. And this captivating young lady will be your sister, I take it?”

  I didn’t know quite what to make of this. Nobody had ever called me ‘captivating’ before, and I had to think for several moments before I decided that I liked it.

  The next few moments were taken up with introductions, and the short time after that, in which he led us through into the drawing room and called for tea with the customary enquiries after the health of each other and our mutual acquaintances, together with the necessary admiration of the house and its furnishings, but eventually we found ourselves sitting by a window with a fine view of the surrounding countryside, seeming almost to shine and glitter in the bright sunlight.

  “I gather you are considering sending Miss Darcy to Mrs. Goddard’s school, upon my brother’s recommendation?” Mr. Darcy said, at length. “Is there any way I can be of assistance to you in the matter?”

  “Mr. John Knightley,” said Fitzwilliam, “has been a good friend as well as a useful and trusted attorney for me for some years now. I rate his opinion very highly, and ‘very highly’ is just how he rates Mrs. Goddard’s school.”