Georgiana Darcy, Matchmaker

by Bronwen Chisholm

  “I believe our aunts would be delighted by her.” I saw his brow rise and pursed my lips to hide my smile. “Well, until they realized your affections for her.”

  “Georgie …”

  “Do not tell me you have no feelings for her, Fitzwilliam. I saw your eyes just now when you spoke of her, and the manner in which you conversed with her at Longbourn.” I stared into his eyes, my own pleading for him to admit this one thing.

  I saw the moment he relented, though he did not speak. His shoulders slumped and he dropped my gaze. The look of complete defeat was not lost on me. “I do not understand why you are so saddened by finding such a woman.”

  “Because I cannot have her; she can never be my wife.”

  “Why not?” I cried out in utter amazement.

  “Georgie, I am the Master of Pemberley. I must think of all that entails. Our estate is grand and would survive a marriage that brought no fortune, but no connections also? What would that do for your prospects? For my children’s prospects? Yes, one marriage would be well and good, but what if my son is unable to bring a lady of wealth and connection to wife due to his mother’s lack of connections? What if we have five daughters, as Mr. Bennet? Could I dower them all and have Pemberley remain what it is?”

  He pushed from the chair and began pacing before the hearth. “Do you not believe I have carefully considered this? That I have not imagined her at my side at Pemberley? She would be the best of Mistresses to the tenants, but can I risk their future?”

  “Forgive me, Brother, I had not thought of those things.” I lowered my gaze to my lap as I twisted my fingers. I was certain he had used every one of these arguments with himself over the time we had been in Hertfordshire, but it still did not explain why his mood had changed so drastically this evening. “Was something said following dinner which brought this to mind once more?”

  He stopped his pacing and folded his arms against the mantel as he lowered his head to rest upon them. “Bingley spoke to Mr. Bennet. It is clear he is ready to ask for a courtship. Mr. Bennet told us precisely what the sisters could expect as dowries before describing his wife’s connections in detail. I believe he did so to weed out any squeamish suitors.”

  “And he succeeded in one,” I murmured softly.

  Fitzwilliam’s posture changed once more as he reached for the poker and began agitating the wood. “Mr. Collins was quick to announce he took no issue with the ladies’ lack of dowry and hoped to claim a Bennet sister as his wife. I saw the look of recognition which passed over our host’s countenance. He would sacrifice her to that drivelling fool!” Sparks shot from the abused log as he struck it.

  Realization settled upon me and I fought the urge to laugh outright at his jealousy. “Are you certain?”

  He turned toward me, incredulous. “You have been witness to his fawning over her. I secured the dinner dance as I heard him attempt to cajole it from her when all could see her discomfort. She is the one of his choosing.”

  “But he is not the one of her choosing.”

  “He is the heir to her father’s estate. Clearly she is Mr. Bennet’s favourite and he would prefer to have her as Mistress of Longbourn when he is gone.”

  “Not if she must sacrifice her happiness.” As I finished speaking, Fitzwilliam looked at me suspiciously. “Elizabeth and I have discussed Mr. Collins’ attentions. She has made every attempt to dissuade him as she does not wish to embarrass the man, but she is convinced her father will not force her to accept him.”

  My brother stared at me, as though he had not fully comprehended my words. Slowly, enlightenment struck him and he straightened. “But, should she refuse him and her father passes, what would become of her? I doubt Mr. Collins would be generous enough to allow her to remain at Longbourn without making her very existence miserable.”

  I lowered my gaze, suddenly uncomfortable to speak of what I had learned from my new friends. “I believe Mary has taken it upon herself to encourage Mr. Collins’ attentions.”

  “Miss Mary? Does she hold a tender for Mr. Collins?” His lips curled in disgust at the very idea.

  I quickly shook my head. “I do not believe it to be so. I fear she only looks to her security and well-being.” I frowned. “Truly, I doubt she has even considered her sisters in her choice. I know not how the unwed sisters would be treated once Mr. Collins is the Master of Longbourn.”

  Fitzwilliam shuddered. “Elizabeth shall leave, I am certain. I know, were I in her position, I would be unable to watch that man assume my father’s place.”

  “It would be best were she wed before that occurred,” I murmured and saw him nod, though he was deep in thought.

  From just behind me, a man cleared his throat. “Pardon my interruption, sir. Will there be anything else tonight?”

  Fitzwilliam ran a hand over his brow. “Perhaps a tonic for my head, Preston, and then you may retire.”

  “Very well, sir.” The valet returned to the dressing room.

  I sat quietly a moment, but it was clear my brother no longer noticed my presence. Silently, I stood and entered the dressing room. “Mr. Preston,” I said softly to make him aware of my presence.

  “Miss Darcy.” He hid his surprise well, but not his curiosity. “May I be of assistance?”

  “I am most hopeful, sir.” I turned toward Fitzwilliam’s wardrobe, scanning for a specific item. Upon spotting it, I smiled broadly and drew it from the cabinet. “I believe this waistcoat to be one of the finest my brother owns; do you not agree? It suits him well and would set him apart at Mr. Bingley’s upcoming ball.” I met his eye, hoping I need not say more to enlist his assistance.

  His head tipped slightly to one side as he eyed first me and then the item in my hand. Finally, a twinkle entered his eye as his lips turned up on one side. It was the closest thing to a smile I had ever seen on the man. “I must agree, Miss Darcy. I should have chosen it myself. I believe it would reflect the light in another’s eyes beautifully.”

  Realizing he understood more than I anticipated, I could barely contain a squeal of delight. I leaned forward, pointing to some of the embroidered threads, and whispered, “Her dress is just this shade.”

  Preston suddenly stood taller, the light in his eyes still visible behind his now stern demeanour. “I know not of whom you speak, Miss, but I shall see that your brother is properly attired that evening.” He took the waistcoat from me and set it aside for pressing.

  Turning, I saw Fitzwilliam move toward the dressing room and quickly stepped out to meet him.

  “Whatever are you doing, Georgie?” he asked in a wearied voice.

  “I was asking Preston about your hand as you appear to be in discomfort. Perhaps a bit of laudanum would do better than a tonic. Are you in great pain, Brother?”

  He eyed me suspiciously for a time. Finally, he took a deep breath and replied, “I do not believe that is what was being discussed, but I have no desire to press the issue this evening. I beg of you, Georgie, allow me to retire and end this conversation.”

  Stepping closer, I laid my hand against his chest, just over his heart. “I do not wish to see you ill or discomforted, Brother. I shall end this for tonight, but only on the condition you do not close your heart to her. I have heard your arguments against Elizabeth, but I believe the good she could bring to our family far outweighs any concern you might have. Our times are changing, Brother. Even titled men have married penniless brides from the landed gentry, and I dare say a few from trade.” I paused and reflected. “She makes you happy when you are with her and that is enough for me. You deserve happiness, Fitzwilliam.” Going up on tiptoe, I kissed his cheek and left the room.

  As the door closed behind me, I whispered a prayer that my brother, for once, would not be so obstinate.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The day of the Netherfield Ball, I was nearly as anxious as Mr. Bingley. All day, the two of us could be seen ‘grinning in a most ridiculous manner’, according to my brother. Sitting on a chair by the bal
lroom doorway, I ran my fingers over the fringe of my silk shawl and attempted to calm my excitement. Though I had been sent to my room that afternoon to rest, I had been unable to close my eyes. Now I sat with Mrs. Annesley and waited.

  It appeared as though all of Meryton had arrived, and still no Bennets. My brother stood in a corner, frowning at the number of red-coated officers in the room, but there was no sight of Mr. Wickham and I hoped he had decided not to attend. I was suspicious, however, of the looks that passed between the officers who were there as they, in turn, watched Fitzwilliam.

  Before I could give it a second thought, there was movement and a familiar cry at the door and all eyes turned to see the Bennets make their entrance. As I drew closer, I saw Jane speaking quietly to Mr. Bingley, oblivious to her family’s behaviour, but Elizabeth’s cheeks appeared flushed as she eyed her mother.

  Mrs. Bennet gripped her hostess’ hand. “Oh, Miss Bingley, I am so enchanted by your use of fall flowers to decorate the entryway. However did you know they are Jane’s favourites? I am certain she must feel exceedingly welcome.”

  “I am so pleased,” Miss Bingley responded through clenched teeth.

  Elizabeth bowed to our hostess, but moved quickly past her until she was before me; we linked arms as we greeted one another. “Oh, I feared we might never arrive,” she whispered as we began to make our way around the room. “Lydia came below, dressed and ready to accompany us. Papa had to send us ahead while he dealt with her. He shall arrive later, if he decides to come at all. He really does dislike balls for the most part.”

  By the time Elizabeth finally drew breath, I realized her recitation was due to nervousness. I glanced about the room, but did not see anyone who might cause Elizabeth’s discomfort. These were friends, accept perhaps the officers, but she had never appeared affected by them in the past. As we drew near Fitzwilliam, Elizabeth’s voice drifted away. It was clear to see the strong attraction they bore towards one another.

  He stepped forward and took her hand in his, bending over it as she curtseyed. “Miss Elizabeth,” his voice was hesitant. “You are a vision.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth responded, a quiver in her voice. Her eyes fell to his waistcoat. “It appears we are well suited this evening.”

  His eyes followed her gaze as though it were the first time he saw what he was wearing and a smile passed over his countenance. “So it would seem. I wonder how my valet knew.”

  They both glanced toward me, but by that time I had moved back toward my companion to allow them time alone; though I was careful to stay near in order to hear what was said.

  “I believe your sister wishes to see us together, sir.”

  “Yes, so it would appear.” Silence stretched between them and he reluctantly released her hand.

  “I suppose she is much like Kitty, believing in fairy tales where the handsome prince falls madly in love with the poor peasant girl and defies society to marry her.”

  “You think me handsome?” he teased.

  “I had not realized you were royalty, sir.” Mirth flashed in her eyes.

  “I suppose not, for you are most decidedly not a peasant girl, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “No, but I am certain Miss Bingley would want her brother to marry someone of a higher standing than my family. How much more so would you?” Her eyes fell. “Mr. Darcy, I must apologize for what occurred at my home …”

  Fitzwilliam reached out toward her. “Please, you need not apologize for your sister’s actions.”

  “No, you misunderstand me. I was speaking of what occurred in the stillroom.”

  He inhaled sharply and looked about before returning his gaze to her. “It is I who should apologize, if I felt the desire to do so. I took advantage of our proximity while you cared for my burn. I hope you have nothing to regret. I do not.”

  Slowly she raised her eyes to his and I could see they glistened with unshed tears. Whatever could have happened in the stillroom?

  A sudden tug on my arm drew my attention. “Have I missed anything?” Kitty asked as she took in the ballroom. “Ooh, it is spectacular! Has the dancing begun? I do hope we have not missed the first dance. Well, perhaps, for Lizzy must dance with Mr. Collins and I would hope she could avoid it.”

  I glanced back in time to see the very man leading Elizabeth toward the dance floor. “No, the first dance appears to be starting now.” I looked back to my brother who scowled at the retreating forms. “Come, Kitty, you may sit by me if you do not have a partner.”

  “You do not appear overly excited. Is this not your first ball? I thought you would be as happy as I.”

  “I was, but …” I glanced toward Mrs. Annesley who was speaking with Mrs. Bennet and Lady Lucas. Leaning closer to my friend, I whispered, “I overheard Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam. Something did happen in the stillroom.”

  Kitty’s eyes grew large. “What do you think it was? Could they have kissed? Did he compromise her? Oh, if only we had opened the door sooner, we might have seen them and then they would have to marry.”

  “Kitty! You would want them forced into marriage when they do not wish to be?”

  Rolling her eyes, Kitty motioned toward Fitzwilliam. “Does he look as though he does not want to marry my sister? If Mama sees him looking at her in that manner, she shall set her sights upon him.” Distracted by movement close by, she looked away. “Oh, here comes Miss Bingley.”

  “Miss Bingley? I thought she would be dancing.” I strained to see a large feather bouncing its way through the crowd until it stopped before my brother.

  “Mr. Darcy, you are not dancing.” Miss Bingley gazed over the edge of her fan.

  “Neither are you, Miss Bingley,” he responded while continuing to watch the dancers.

  “I had left this dance open for fear I may be needed, but now I am without enterprise.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded, but made no comment.

  Kitty and I exchanged a glance and covered our mouths to smother our giggles. Miss Bingley clearly wanted Fitzwilliam to ask her to dance, and he refused to satisfy her. Mrs. Annesley flashed us a gentle warning glance, and we both turned our attention back to the dance floor.

  Unfortunately, we were just in time to see Mr. Collins turn wrong and step on Elizabeth’s hem. That it was torn was obvious. The lady’s response was all that was commendable, but her ire was clearly raised. She left the floor directly in search of the retiring room in hopes that it could be mended, Mr. Collins following after her apologizing profusely.

  Kitty took hold of my arm and pulled me from the room so we could follow. As we entered the hallway, Elizabeth turned upon Mr. Collins.

  “You, sir, have done enough. I beg of you to return to the ballroom and leave me be.”

  No one had seen Mary behind them until she took hold of the Rector’s arm. “Please, Mr. Collins, my sister is correct. It would not be seemly for you to be seen with her in such a state. Come join me in the ballroom. I dislike dancing and would prefer to spend the evening in discussion. Do you not agree that is the better way?”

  Reluctantly Mr. Collins allowed Mary to lead him away and Elizabeth continued down the hall. Kitty and I called out to her and she turned in time for us to see the tears falling down her cheeks.

  “Lizzy, what is it?” Kitty asked as she took her sister’s arm.

  I stepped to her other side and we swept her into the retiring room. Leading her to a chaise lounge, we forced her to sit while we knelt before her and inspected the damage. Kitty handed Elizabeth a handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

  “Is it very bad?” Elizabeth asked timidly.

  It appeared as though the dress could be repaired, but all would know it had been damaged. We looked at one another questioningly before answering her. Kitty raised her shoulders, uncertain how to respond.

  “I shall get Hannah. She will know what to do.” I leapt from my place and rushed from the room. I rounded the corner and was confronted with the solid form of my brother.

  “
Is Miss Elizabeth unwell?” he asked, taking hold of my arm to balance me.

  “Her gown is torn. I was going for Hannah to see if she can repair it.”

  Fitzwilliam nodded, but did not release me. “You should not be in the hallways alone when a ball is in progress, Georgie.” He looked about and motioned a footman toward us. “Find Mrs. Nicholls and have her send Hannah to the retiring room.”

  “Yes, sir.” The servant scurried off toward the kitchens.

  My brother frowned as he turned back to me. “Have you forgotten what we discussed? That you should never be alone?”

  Suddenly uneasy, I glanced about. “No, I remember, but I was not thinking of myself. I wished to assist Elizabeth. She is so upset. The gown was a special gift from her aunt and uncle, and now it may be ruined after only one dance.”

  “Georgie, do not exaggerate. I am certain something may be done to make the dress presentable.”

  My eyes drifted down from his countenance, falling upon his cravat. “Brother, I thought Preston had prepared a green neck cloth for you to wear this evening.”

  Fitzwilliam frowned. “I am not accustomed to this new style. I prefer the white.”

  I clapped my hands excitedly. “Perhaps the gown can be repaired after all. Will you fetch the neck cloth?”

  His brow drew together in a frown, but I opened my eyes wide and allowed my lip to pout. With a sigh, he motioned me toward the retiring room and turned away.

  I skipped into the room, but stopped when I saw the tears flowing down Elizabeth’s cheeks. “Oh, do not cry. Hannah is on her way and I believe I know how to make the gown even better than it was before.”

  The Bennet sisters looked at me quizzically, but I refused to say more. Hannah entered a moment later and inspected the tear while we anxiously watched.