Darcy's Tale, Volume III_The Way Home

by Stanley Michael Hurd

  Miss Hartsbury, on receiving her invitation, called upon Darcy one morning not long after. Georgiana happened to be at Grosvenor Square; the two young ladies had been introduced before, but had never had the opportunity to converse at any length. Once the usual compliments had been passed, Miss Hartsbury launched immediately into her delighted thanks. “How can I ever thank you, Mr. Darcy! I was so grateful to receive your invitation—I had to come straight away to accept in person. Of course, my uncle has forbidden me to go, as it means he will have to bestir himself, and he hates to leave Town; but Mamma, bless her, is on my side. Of course, she is rather weaker than usual at the moment, which is why we are not at Bath, so she will not be able to help much with him, but I shall manage, because I am determined to go. What fun we shall have!”

  Georgiana, blinking almost as rapidly as Miss Hartsbury in her efforts to keep up with this out-bursting of dialogue, could only smile back at the spirited, beaming face of Miss Hartsbury. Darcy said, “I am sure we shall be delighted to have you with us, Miss Hartsbury.”

  “Now, tell me every where we are to go,” Miss Hartsbury carried on. “Your invitation mentioned Bath…well, Bristol, but of course Bath is just on the way, so I naturally assumed we would go through Bath, you know…” Here the lady coloured slightly, and her voice trailed off.

  Darcy supplied her with what she hoped to hear: “We shall go through Bath, it is true. There was a gentleman at the ball I had the honour to attend at your home: a Sir Neville Canham; as he struck me as an engaging sort of fellow, I have written to invite him along, and we shall add him to the party in Bath, assuming he is able to join us.”

  “Oh, that is...! Well, that is to say, I found him pleasant company as well; I shall be glad to see him amongst us.” She hesitated a moment, a happy sort of little smile playing on her features. Then she said, “Do you know, I have never been to Bristol? Not once. For all the times I have been to Bath, I have never ventured farther west. My uncle says he does not care for the place, but then, he never cares for anything much further away than his club. But now, do tell me every where we shall visit.”

  Darcy obliged with a summary of their tour, punctuated by Miss Hartsbury’s exclamations of delight at the prospect of so much to please and interest. She glanced often at Georgiana to invite her concurrence of anticipation. Georgiana, who had been puzzled at first by Miss Hartsbury’s manner, had come to feel a genuine pleasure in her company, as well as a slight pity for her outward demeanour; but Miss Hartsbury’s enthusiasm was infectious, and in her company Georgiana could see the possibility of some one with whom to share and increase the pleasures of travel, she being a person of both taste, and eagerness in the pursuit of amusement. Moreover, there was something in her character that appealed to Georgiana, making her more comfortable in her company than was customary for her with new acquaintances. Darcy saw this, and was gratified that his thought of being of service to Miss Hartsbury and Sir Neville should bear this additional benefit.

  “But you say your uncle is set against the tour?” Georgiana asked in a troubled voice, concerned that her hopes in favour of her new friend might be spoilt by Miss Hartsbury’s disobliging relation.

  “Oh, yes, my dear, but that will not matter; he likes to make a fuss, but I can always get him to do what I want in the end. He is a well-meaning creature, but very old-fashioned in his thinking; but, however, he can always be dragged into the modern day with a little patience and kindness. He is a great deal of help to me in handling my business; although he has no head for figures, he is very punctilious in carrying out my instructions with respect to my affairs; and, of course, I absolutely require some one to do it, you know, for no one will listen to a woman in such matters.”

  Georgiana, somewhat bewildered by all this, looked enquiringly at her brother; Darcy smiled and nodded reassuringly; Miss Hartsbury’s eccentricities always diverted him, and he was amused by his sister’s confusion in the face of such a character as Miss Hartsbury’s. He was sure they would enjoy each other’s company, and hoped that Georgiana might learn some of Miss Hartsbury’s openness, assurance, and frank enthusiasm.

  Chapter Seven

  Darcy went to find Bingley in Manchester Square one afternoon not long after, to take him to White’s again. He wished to apprise his friend of the progress of their plans, and, if possible, to delve into his friend’s state of mind; he was becoming quite concerned by Bingley’s prolonged low spirits.

  Seating themselves comfortably away from the heat coming in at the windows, Darcy gave Bingley the news and details; Bingley remained politely disinterested. “Is there anything more that might be done for your pleasure?” Darcy asked. “I am not sure I have truly sparked your enthusiasm.”

  “Oh, no, Darcy; I am quite looking forward to it,” said his friend, although in his accent there was little real eagerness.

  Uneasy on his behalf, Darcy spoke: “You once asked me if all was well—now I ask it of you: is there anything troubling you?”

  Bingley shook his head. “Nothing, really. Nothing that can be mended, at any rate.”

  Darcy tried one or two more oblique approaches to the question, but Bingley remained unforthcoming; Darcy finally left off, not wishing to pry; they joined some others at the card tables, and the topic was dropt. His friend’s attitude, however, did not fade from his memory, and he wondered if it might still have to do with Miss Bennet. He resolved to attend more carefully to Bingley’s comfort, as he had done with Georgiana; they were both deserving of his attentions, and for similar reasons. As his aunt had said, pain recognises its fellows, and he was very earnest in his wish to relieve them both and improve their enjoyment in life.

  Among his other preparations, Darcy had not forgotten that Georgiana’s birthday was nearly upon them. Knowing it would increase her happiness for more than just the space of a day, Darcy purchased a rather superior pianoforte to replace the one at Pemberley, and, as they would be traveling on the actual day of her celebration, he also bought a small offering to give her on their journey.

  Shortly thereafter, he had the pleasure of receiving an acceptance from Sir Neville; in his letter he revealed himself to be a polite, sincere, unaffected youth, and Darcy was even better pleased with his decision to include him in their party.

  Having made every preparation necessary for their comfort on their journey, he notified the others that all was in readiness. Therefore, at a comfortable hour on a pleasant Monday morning in the middle of July, the Londoners set forth for Hampshire, en route to Clereford. They broke their journey in Basingstoke, as Darcy and Georgiana had done on their way to Clereford in May.

  That evening after dinner when the men were by themselves, Darcy and Bingley had their first opportunity to become better acquainted with Miss Hartsbury’s uncle, Mr. Morton Hartsbury. Mr. Hartsbury was a substantial individual, both in figure and by nature: heavy in speech, and holding conservative opinions and strong Church of England views. While not a man who often opened conversations, he did not shy from discourse, and, on top of all else, he was a Cambridge man: Queens’ College, in fact, making him the confirmed natural enemy of Darcy and Bingley.

  “Tell me, young man,” Mr. Hartsbury said to Darcy not long after the ladies had adjourned, “did I not see you dancing with my niece at her home last March?”

  “I had that honour, yes, Sir,” Darcy replied.

  “Yes; I thought I had. One has heard of the Pemberley estates, of course,” observed Mr. Hartsbury. “Your holdings in Derbyshire are extensive, I believe?”

  “We are, to the best of my belief, one of the larger estates in the country,” Darcy admitted; he was considerably surprised by the rather bald, ill-bred tone of the question. However, he directly found Mr. Hartsbury’s capacity for asking ill-mannered and impertinent questions was not exhausted.

  “Have you any shipping interests?”

  Again taken aback at such a brazen enquiry, Darcy answered in clipped accents: “No.”

  “I am glad t
o hear it,” said Hartsbury easily. “Too risky. Holdings in the colonies?”

  Darcy and Bingley shared a look of amazement. “We have some interests in India, yes,” Darcy allowed. “May I know the purport of your questions? Perhaps I can satisfy your curiosity more expeditiously.”

  Mr. Hartsbury did not respond to this attack on his manners, saying rather: “Hmmm; I am not curious, you must understand. As I am charged with the stewardship of my niece’s fortune, it is incumbent upon me to ensure that those of her acquaintance are all that they should be. You should know, Mr. Darcy, that I was against this excursion; had my niece not insisted in the strongest terms, even threatening to accompany you unchaperoned, I should never have been able to justify the time away from my duties.”

  This gave Darcy a considerable insight into Mr. Hartsbury’s character, given what Miss Hartsbury had said about him only the week prior, but he merely said, “No doubt. Very well, let me see if I can cut across for you: our holdings in Derbyshire were granted by King Henry VIII, and extended by grant of King James II. Our family seat will see its three-hundredth year in my lifetime, God willing, and our fortunes have improved uniformly under the stewardship of the last several generations. Will that suffice, or do you require more surety of our standing and station, Sir? Perhaps you would wish to communicate with my solicitor?”

  Hartsbury was unruffled by Darcy’s tone. “I am pleased to hear what you have to say; it is quite acceptable,” said he. Turning to Bingley, he then asked: “And you, Sir; may I know…”

  Darcy cut him off. “See here, Mr. Hartsbury! I was willing to tolerate such from you, as you are my guest, and I would go some distance to ensure the comfort of a guest; but I draw the line at such an inquisition of my other guests and friends. Mr. Bingley is my close personal friend: let that be enough, Sir.”

  The older man remained yet unperturbed. “As you would have it, Mr. Darcy; I believe I can depend upon your authority on this occasion.”

  “I am most gratified by your reliance,” said Darcy sarcastically.

  “You must not take offense; none was meant, I assure you: I seek only to safeguard my niece’s interests. I make similar enquiries of any young man who introduces himself into her sphere; I myself, place no consequence at all in the affairs of others, or their standing.”

  “Of course,” Darcy said in carefully detached tones; but he and Bingley exchanged another glance that spoke their mutual opinion of the gentleman. To Darcy this revealed yet another obstacle Miss Hartsbury faced in finding a beau, and more reason to be glad Sir Neville was to accompany them.

  When they joined the ladies, one of the waiters from the inn was attending them, and Darcy noticed Mr. Hartsbury intently observing the waiter’s careful and attentive deference towards Lady Andover; shortly thereafter he approached the fellow to ask a question in a low voice. The waiter’s eyes grew round in surprise, and he quietly replied with some emphasis, and at length. Mr. Hartsbury’s eyes grew round too; to another brief question, the waiter nodded very sincerely. After this exchange, Miss Hartsbury’s uncle seemed to undergo a change of heart; for some time after, when he spoke, especially if Her Ladyship happened to be present, he spoke with much greater courtesy and deference.

  The company reached Clereford late in the morning of the second day; Miss Bingley had her curiosity satisfied, and her covetousness aroused, by the sight of that fine estate, still delightfully maintained in the old English manner; she was profuse in her admiration of it to Darcy’s aunt, which lady thanked her with distant politeness. The party spent the night, then took the time for a tour of the house and grounds in the morning; Miss Bingley was evidently so overcome by its magnificence as to be afflicted with a weakness in the knees, often requiring the support of Darcy’s arm as they wandered about the place.

  “Tell me, Mr. Darcy,” said she as they stood viewing a charming aspect of the Andover seat from the shrubbery on its northern side, “after Viscount St. Stephens and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is in line to inherit?”

  “As a matter of fact, it seems I may have some claim to the succession; the original letters patent, while a bit hazy in their wording, seem to say that the eldest male in the closest direct line inherits,” he replied. “It has never been at issue, and the current laws of inheritance put it in question in any event; but, aside from myself, there is only a second or third cousin somewhere, who went to the Americas and disappeared. But as both my uncle and my cousins are in robust health, I have no thoughts of ever succeeding to it, thankfully; the Pemberley estates are quite enough for one man to oversee: I want nothing more to occupy my hours.”

  “Of course,” Miss Bingley said with the greatest sincerity, “and your uncle is very hale, certainly—for a man his age; but then, the viscount is looking a bit florid these days—and no wonder, if he pursues all his pleasures as vigorously as I saw him do last Christmas. And of course…the Colonel, a military man, and we are in a time of war…but, however, I pray they all enjoy long life and health, of course—and there is really no reason to expect otherwise.” After this obliging observation, the lady was silent some time, no doubt judiciously contemplating the various probabilities for continued existence amongst three men whom she barely knew. She only revived when, having perceived that a part of her arm was exposed to the morning sun, she sent a footman back to the house for her largest parasol but one.

  That afternoon they travelled north towards Oxford, reaching the shadows of its spires on their fourth day of travel. Darcy had written ahead to Pender, asking him to arrange accommodations for the party. Trinity term being well over, Pender had offered to put Darcy and Bingley up in college; Darcy had countered with an offer that he join them at an inn in town, that the whole company might stay together.

  Their old teacher met them at the gates of Christ Church on their arrival: “Welcome, welcome, gentles all!” he cried, making a sweeping bow that would have better suited a dandy from the century prior; the lines of his bow were somewhat marred by his academical dress, as tending to tangle about the knees. Straightening, he advanced to shake hands with Darcy and Bingley. He then looked expectantly at the ladies of the company.

  Darcy made the introductions. Pender bowed politely to Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, and with a pleasant smile towards Miss Hartsbury; when Darcy named his sister, however, Pender drew in his breath sharply: “Such loveliness and grace! I am delighted, Miss Darcy,” said he. Georgiana coloured deeply, at which Pender impishly twinkled his eyes at her and kissed her hand; she quickly withdrew her hand, blushing even more, and Darcy admonished him: “Behave yourself, you old cur!” Pender merely smiled the more brightly by way of answer.

  His best efforts were reserved for Lady Andover, however. She had come upon the group rather late, having stayed behind to retrieve something from her coach. “But this is the meeting I have awaited!” Pender cried. “Dear Lady Andover, I am your most humble and obedient servant; I swoon to be in Your Ladyship’s presence again! Nothing is so bewitching to the discerning mind, as beauty mellowed and enriched by a noble maturity.” He bowed deeply to her.

  “Master Pender, you antediluvian rogue, I shall have none of your impertinences on this little outing,” she said sternly, and, to Darcy’s very great surprise, she struck him on the shoulder. “Get up, old man, before your lumbago takes you. There; you may kiss my cheek.”

  Pender did so with chaste respect, then laughed delightedly. ”Well, this is a red-letter day for these old walls. Rarely has this bastion of overweening masculinity been graced by so many lovelies at once.” He led the company into the college grounds. Addressing Georgiana and passing her arm through his, he said: “You, my dear, call greatly to mind the portrait of a sixteenth century marquise, which hangs in the residence hall. I pray you will call upon me for any least service you might require.”

  “Pay him no mind, Miss Darcy,” her brother advised her with tolerant amusement, “he is only playing. For all his overblown manners, you will not find a more proper gentle
man; at least, so long as he is in college—I cannot answer for his comportment elsewhere.”

  “He is also aware,” added Her Ladyship drily, “that I would flay him alive if he were to dally with any relation of mine.”

  Pender stopped and clutched his chest. “You wound me to the heart with such vile mistrust! I despise this modern etiquette, which holds that any man who so much as doffs his hat to a lady, must have designs upon her. Ah, for the days of the glorious past, when a man might be a man, without fear of Heaven knows what misconstructions!” Turning back to Georgiana, he said, “Come, my dear, you are too young to have been jaded and jaundiced by such unworthy imaginings; the purity of youth shines in you as the beauty of the sunrise: always fresh, always new, and ever radiant; you shall revive this old man’s faith that the world still has hope of correcting its ways.”

  Georgiana turned an alarmed glance at her brother, but he merely chuckled and said, “That well-worn expression about barking and biting was meant specifically for that old dog; do not let him see you disconcerted, however, or he will never leave off his teazing.”

  Georgiana hesitated, but, spurred by her brother’s admonition into a rare display of courage, she turned to Pender and said, “But, as yours were the hands to raise up our new generation of young gentlemen, Master Pender, I wonder at your want of faith; for was not it under your tutelage that those responsible for the world’s condition, became what they are?” There her courage failed, and she fell silent, blushing a deep crimson.

  “A Darcy—by Heaven, she is a Darcy!” cried Pender. “Lord bless and keep me! —what with your brother and your aunt to contend with, must I now be tormented with yet another?” Darcy and the others laughed and applauded Georgiana, who giggled bashfully to have been so bold as to beard the lion in his very den. Master Pender, however, went on in open challenge to every one in the party: “May I point out to you all that the two young men in your company were under my particular care? Do you wish to criticise my efforts there?”