Miss Darcy's Diversions

by Ronald McGowan

His face cleared.

  “Mr and Mrs Kerr have my congratulations too. There can be no source of comfort and delight to compare with a happy marriage. But I am come to claim my dance, my love. Will you walk the floor with me?”

  “Very willingly” I replied. “I would not miss a dance with you for worlds.”

  And so we stepped through a quadrille, during which he seemed oddly silent. I guessed the reason.

  “Forgive me,” I said, “I have not asked after Cousin George. How is he? Is there any improvement?”

  “The doctors tell us he will live. He may even walk again, but there will be no more riding. He will take that hard, but it is better than we looked for at one time. As soon as I heard that he was out of danger, I took horse. I was determined to get here in time, and I just about made it, as you see.”

  “But if you have ridden all that way and come straight here you must be exhausted. Shall we sit out the second set?”

  “Thank you, that would suit me very well, for more reasons than one.”

  We found a comparatively secluded table in a corner, and sat for a while, content merely to stare at each other.

  “I cannot tell you how glad I am to se you here?” I said at length, by way of breaking the silence.

  “And I cannot tell you how glad I am to hear you say so. But Darcy has been very remiss. There are all sorts of legal formalities to be attended to before you are a free woman, before I can…. But no, I promised myself I would not do this, not tonight. Tonight is your night, and everything must be done for your pleasure. We will talk of other things tomorrow. For now, do you think you could bear to stand up with me for this next set?”

  “I think I could very willingly stand up with you for the rest of the evening, Cousin Edward.”

  “You did not learn coquetry like that at your country school, my girl. What, spend all night dancing with your stuffy old guardian? That would never do.”

  “Not so stuffy,” was my retort,” nor so very old neither.”

  But he was quite right, it would never do, and the formalities were observed, even though, as it happened, there was not another bachelor in the room. That speaks volumes, I know, for the state of my acquaintance, but allowance must be made for our being in a strange town. Even Fitzwilliam could scarcely import half of Derbyshire for the occasion.

  I endured the prosing of old Sir William with a serenity that quite amazed me. I enjoyed Mr Bennet’s comments on the other guests very much, wicked as they were. Even Mr Collins surprised me with his dexterity in the minuet, although I cannot say as much for his conversation.

  I danced, not quite till dawn, but long after the band had started to show signs of wanting to slip away, and far too long to do anything but collapse into a dreamless sleep when we got back to Trafalgar Cottage.

  Chapter Twenty-nine :Manumission

  It was well into the afternoon the following day before I ventured downstairs, to find Fitzwilliam and Cousin Edward waiting for me in the library.

  “The Bennets and the Bingleys are all gone a-fishing,” said Fitzwilliam. “They have been lured onto a boat by Mr Gardner, who wishes to try his hand at mackerel and herring for a change instead of trout and salmon. I wish them well of it, but am quite glad to be detained here by business. We have formalities to conclude, tedious legal matters which should really have been done yesterday, but that we were lacking various documents and they would have spoiled the surprise. Have you forgiven me for that yet, by the way? I know you hate surprises.”

  “As a general rule, I do hate surprises, but I cannot bring myself to carp at yesterday, and I thank you with all my heart for a wonderful birthday.”

  “Well, it was rather a special one, was it not? It is because it was so special that we need to attend to these other things. We have various documents to surrender to you, and we need your signature on various pieces of paper, and then we shall all be free, you of our tutelage, and Edward and I of our responsibility. It is to Edward here that we owe the presence of these papers, for he collected them in London on the way here yesterday.”

  “What?” I cried, “So you deceived me yesterday, when you said you rode straight to my side, Cousin Edward.”

  He flushed and stammered a little.

  “I had to go through London, and thought I might as well pass by the lawyer’s place. I had a particular reason – I still have a particular reason – for wishing to take my wooden foil as soon as may be, and these papers are my quickest route to it.”

  “Well, let us be about them, then.”

  “First of all, then,” said my brother, passing me a great sheaf of papers, “these are the accounts of our guardianship under the terms of our father’s will. They are now yours to do with as you will. You may have them scrutinized and audited by a professional if you will, but I do not think you will find anything out of the way in them.”

  “These,” passing another sheaf, “are the statements of your bank account at Messrs Hoares, in London. You will see from them that the thirty thousand pounds that was left in your charge is now nearer fifty, and that no-one has touched a penny of your inheritance. We give it into your charge, now. From today onward you are the only person who has power to draw upon it.”

  “Now all we need is your signature on this paper, certifying that we have discharged our responsibility as guardians, and that you are now of legal age and have received from us the property that we have been holding in trust for you these eleven years past.”

  This was all much more portentous than I had looked for, and my hand was shaking so much as I signed that I wonder I did not blot the letter.

  “Congratulations, my love,” said Fitzwilliam. “You are now legally a grown woman, free of all tutelage – unless you should marry of course – and Edward and I are no longer obliged to spend our days in weariness and worry fretting about you. You are your own woman now, and a rich one too, and God bless you, my dear. You may do anything you wish, now. You may buy a house in London and set yourself up there. You may journey to the Cannibal Isles to convert the inhabitants. You may set yourself up to rival Miss Herschel for learning. You may do whatever you please, but I hope, I do hope, that for the moment it will please you to stay at Pemberley, with the brother and sister who love you.”

  “You make no mention of the nephew, Fitzwilliam. Do you mean to imply that little Francis hates me? I should not like to remain under such a cloud.”

  Fitzwilliam has become quite slow to see my jokes since Margate. The responsibility has weighed upon him.

  “Relax, brother. You have said so yourself, just now, my fancies are no longer your responsibility. Of course I shall stay at Pemberley, if you will have me. It is my home, after all.”

  “Well, I think we all must celebrate this momentous occasion,” he replied, “and I must recultivate my sense of humour. But first I will leave you with our cousin who has some words to say to you about why he was so eager to discharge his responsibility to you. I shall wait for you in the drawing room.”

  This sounded ominous, and I turned to my cousin with some trepidation.

  “Oh, Edward,” I said, “you are not leaving us again so soon, are you?”

  “Not yet,” he replied, “not quite yet, but there is something I must say to you, something I must ask you. I having been wanting to say this, longing to say this for years, have had a particular reason for not doing so. But now I find I am strangely reluctant, strangely afraid to come the point.”

  “You may say anything you wish to me, Edward.”

  “I will not insult your intelligence by asking if you understand my reference to a wooden foil just now. You know quite well that for a gladiator it signified his retirement from the arena, and his freedom. There are so many things I wish to say to you, but there has always been a barrier that prevented me. Now I am no longer your guardian, and am free to say what I have wanted to say for years. The penniless guardian and his wealthy ward are such a theatrical cliché that I could not bear to think of you in
that way. I must perforce decline to act the Bartolo to your Rosina, though all the while longing to be your Lindoro.”

  “Now, at last, that barrier is removed, and I am struck dumb. Georgiana, my dear, dear Georgiana, I have poured out my soul to you for years now. Your letters have been my joy and my comfort. I have seen you grow from a shy little madam who was no good at cricket, to a pert schoolgirl, to a radiantly beautiful, intelligent, loving young lady, the toast of London, certainly, but so much more too. Surely you must know what I am about. Tell me, one word is all I ask, is there any hope for me?”

  Oh! I suddenly realized that I thought I did know what he was about, and even more suddenly knew that I hoped my supposition was right. But hope was too strong a word, far too strong. I did not dare reach so far. Yet hope was what he was asking for as much as I.

  “Hope?” I replied. “There is always hope. All else has fled Pandora’s box, has it not? But hope can go two ways, and before I can be more certain I must beg you to be more specific.”

  “Very well then. Let us both hope, for a while. Clarity and certitude can be the death of hope, however, but they must come.”

  “Georgiana, I have loved you as a cousin all your life. But for the last few years I have begun to love you in another way, ever since that business in Margate, I think. When I saw you there and how you dealt with your ….problems there I felt a profound admiration for you. You were nothing like the little girl I had left behind, but a beautiful, intelligent, faithful, loving young woman who deserved better than to be treated so. Your letters to me since then have opened your character to me, and, I hope, mine to you. You have the world before you, beauty, fortune, youth, everything anyone could wish for. I am but a younger son with no prospects. I have nothing to offer you but a colonel’s half-pay, that and all my love for the rest of my life. You are one of the most eligible young ladies in the realm, and I am no more than a rough, battered old soldier, but I love you with all my heart. Could you find it in you to be a military wife?”

  “And if I say no,” I answered, “what will you do then?”

  He turned away from me, and stood looking out of the window, his arms clasped behind him.

  “I cannot lie to you,” he said. “I shall go back to Spain. When I get there I probably shall not fling myself single-handed upon the first French column I lay eyes upon, intent on dying a hero’s death. But the possibility may always exist, and the temptation certainly does.”

  “Well,” I replied, “I should be very loth to present Boney with the opportunity of such an easy victory. In fact, I cannot bring myself to do so.”

  The words had scarcely left my mouth before his answer began, obviously long-rehearsed,

  “You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much of your time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”

  And he got halfway to the door before stopping, and turning an incredulous eye.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, in a voice that trembled, “does that mean ‘yes’?”

  “Well, it was certainly intended to, but since you are now ashamed of what your feelings have been…”

  “Take no notice of that. Take no notice of that. That was not me speaking, that was Darcy, his notion of what to say in the event of a refusal, which I had convinced myself was inevitable. But tell me, tell me now, tell quickly, tell me true, this is not a jest? You will marry me?”

  “Edward, dear, dear Edward, I have loved you as a cousin all my life. But for the last few years I have begun to love you in another way, ever since that business in Margate, I think. You were so kind to me there, and looked after me when even my own brother was disgusted with what I had done. You were nothing like the boisterous little boy I remembered, but a handsome, intelligent, faithful, kind young man who deserved better than to be no more than a younger son. Your letters to me since then have opened your character to me, and, I hope, mine to you. You have your career before you, fame, fortune, rank, everything anyone could wish for. I am but a private gentleman’s daughter. I have nothing to offer you but a few guineas, that and all my love for the rest of my life. I may be one of the most eligible young ladies in the realm, and you no more than a rough, battered old soldier, but you are my rough, battered old soldier, and not so very old neither. There are only five years between us, much as there are between my brother and Elizabeth. Why should we not do as well as they?”

  Chapter Thirty : Prothalamion

  I soon found out that I was the only one in the household who had apparently been oblivious to Cousin Edward’s tendre.

  It was already evident that Fitzwilliam had been coaching his cousin in what to say, and there was no need of the warm embrace with which he greeted the news to confirm his approval, but I was disappointed of surprising the rest of our party.

  “Now all is just as it should be,” said Elizabeth. “We shall be cousins as well as sisters, and I would have us closer yet could that be possible. I once thought Colonel Fitzwilliam might propose to me, you know, but I think I was already in love with your brother at the time, though I did not know it. I think you have been in love with your cousin longer than you know, too.”

  “It is perfectly obvious, my dear girl,” added her father, “that the Colonel worships the very ground you walk upon. That has been clear for all to see ever since he came here. You may have surprised yourself, but I think you will do very well together. You each of you have far more sense than Jane and Bingley, and with your money and the Colonel’s half pay, you should be very comfortable.”

  Mrs Bennet immediately began fussing about wedding gowns and trousseaux, and Mary produced a handful of extracts from very learned books upon the value and comforts of marriage.

  Kitty coughed rather a lot, but I gather she was pleased.

  The one less than triumphant note was struck, not surprisingly, by Anne.

  “Of course I am happy for you, Georgie, darling, but I do think you might leave a few scraps for me sometimes. Besides, Cousin Edward may be called back to the front at any moment. We must not be too sure of happiness, you know.”

  But I am sure, especially now that months have passed, surer and happier every day, now that we are all back at Pemberley, now that all the gowns have been bought and fitted, all the white soup made, all the guests invited, and tomorrow I am to walk down the aisle with my hero.

  To crown it all, news has just come in that Bonaparte has surrendered at last, so there is no danger of my beloved gaining the hero’s death he threatened me with.

  He threatens me with much more when we are married, but they are all delicious threats, and I look forward to holding him to them.

  I wonder if Mr Bennet would object if Mary and Kitty were to join us at Brighton for the last week of our honeymoon.

  If you enjoyed this book, you might like to try Ronald McGowan’s other efforts –

  Jane Austen Amplifications

  Pride Unprejudiced

  To Make Sport for our Neighbours

  More Sport for our Neighbours

  Naples to Northanger

  Colonel Brandon’s Secret

  Miss Margaret’s Mission

  Mansfield Restored

  The Journal of Miss Jane Fairfax

  Other Books

  The Judgment of Paris

  The Wrath of Achilles

  What I did in my Holidays

  Barset Revisited

 

 

 

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