by Nicky Roth
'Sorting out my wardrobe at last,' Elizabeth sighed, looking at the pile of clothes she had already pulled out.
Considering that she was the one person in the house, aside from her father, with the least inclination for fashion, it was still scary how much stuff always seemed to accumulate in her drawers, her wardrobe and even more mysteriously underneath her bed.
'Wow, this looks lovely.'
Jane held up a light grey dress with some dusky pink embroidery at the hem that Elizabeth had bought for whatever reason and just unceremoniously dumped on the floor together with the other stuff she wanted to get rid of. She had never worn it as yet and presumably never would, so what was the point of keeping it? But yes, it did look pretty. It was just that she never felt very comfortable in a dress, and Mr Darcy's reaction to her wearing one had not been very reassuring either.
'I had thought of giving it away. It is only cluttering up my space.'
'Oh, no, you won't! It looks stunning.'
'You sister, look as if you are about to insist to play dress-up again.'
'You are very right there. Cleaning out a wardrobe is all nice and well, but what's the purpose if you don't try on the stuff and see whether it still fits or whether you still like how it looks on you? - By the way, you do look a lot better today.'
'Well, Papa said I look like a ghost.'
'Okay, I was stretching the truth a bit, you still look awfully pale, but compared to yesterday you actually look fine.'
'That is at least something, I presume. I feel better as well.'
'But apparently restless,' Jane smiled in commiseration.
'Very.'
'Right. So, put it on, will you?' Jane handed her the dress and with a light grumble of protest, Elizabeth stripped out of her pj's she had still been wearing and pulled the dress over her head.
It fit like a glove, oddly enough.
'You know, with a decent bra it would look absolutely breathtaking.'
'Yes, on you.'
'No, on you, dummy. It would be just the thing to wear to Charles' opening party at Netherfield.'
'Jane, the repairs haven't even started. Is it really wise to start planning a party for its opening already?'
'Funnily enough I have asked Charles the very same thing, but according to him, as long as the main house is ready, the rest will be a piece of cake and besides, work will start on Monday and should be fairly quick, considering that no-one lives there.'
'What about the historically valuable stuff like the wallpapers?'
'Hardly any of the original wallpaper is still in place and what is still there and can be saved will be taken down in order to restore it just like the furniture.'
'Wow, you have been busy yesterday, I see.'
'It was interesting, yes. And it got surprisingly late. By the way, in case you haven't heard, Charlotte has got the job, she's to start on Monday. - So, what about this one then?'
Jane held up yet another dress she had bought ages ago, actually when still at school. It was a deep red, straight cut with an empire waist and a skirt reaching slightly above the knee. Another dress she had worn but once. Really, the only dress she had worn on more than one occasion was the historical empire dress Jane had made her for the annual harvest ball. It was also the only piece of clothing that currently hung up neatly on the door of her closet. Had it really been only a week ago since she had worn it? Bloody hell, yes. It felt like ages.
'It can go as well.'
'No! - Lizzy really, I have quite a mind inviting you to London for a decent shopping tour - no, don't look taken aback. But seriously, you can't always run around in a pair of jeans and plain shirts, you are far too pretty. And may I remind you how stunned Darcy was when he saw you on Wednesday? So, how about it? Are you coming to London with me tomorrow?'
'He wasn't stunned, he was taken aback and quite put out, Jane.'
'Okay, I show you what, Lizzy. Come put these on.'
'What, my old dungarees?'
'Yes. Come, humour me.'
'You can be really bossy at times, Jane.'
'It comes with being the oldest of five. Here, this blouse is quite suitable for the look as well.'
'It's Mary's.'
'And? It's fugly and I only want to make a point. So, now I just need to tie up your hair and voila!'
'I look like a scarecrow with how you pulled my hair up.'
'Oh, really? That, dear sister, is how you run around most of the time when working on the farm.'
'It's not as if the cows mind all that much. And I can't possibly wear the red dress for fear a bull will run after me. Besides, it doesn't fit very well with the colour of my wellies.'
'You, of all people, should know that cows are colour blind and should a bull run after you in that dress, it would be for altogether different reasons.'
'Very funny, Jane.'
'So, since we've established that you look more or less a fright in these clothes - a cute fright, but a fright and even though they are perfectly serviceable and appropriate for the farmyard, now let's put you into your favourite pair of jeans, shall we?'
Right, that presumably was the weirdest compliment she'd ever gotten in her life. Cute fright... Hm, she kind of like it.
'Would I hear the end of it, if I don't comply?' she inquired.
'No.'
'I thought as much.'
Slightly exasperated Elizabeth stepped out of the dungarees and into her jeans, exchanging the ugly blouse with a plain white T-shirt, fitted, but nothing special just the way she preferred it.
'So, now a slight adjustment to your hair and there you go. And?'
'Well, it does look a lot better, doesn't it?'
'It suits you, but it is boring in the long run, if you wear it day in day out, which is exactly what you do. Though, yes, your butt looks stunning in it and it brings out your figure so I have absolutely nothing to say against you wearing a pair of jeans once in a while. But not all the bloody time!'
Jane gave her bottom a slight smack to underline her words.
'Okay, and what now? Wait, why are you covering the mirror?'
'Because I don't want you to see what I am about to do with you. I just get my makeup and a decent hairbrush and in the meanwhile, you can put on a decent pair of knickers and a proper bra – none of those sporty things, understood? And then you put on this grey dress again. Really, that you still don't get it after Wednesday is beyond me.'
'I looked decidedly too slutty. That dress looked silly on me.'
'Oh, really? By the way, you looked sexy, not slutty, there is a capital difference.'
As Jane slipped out of the door, Elizabeth knew there was little point resisting her sister. And it was not as if she had much else to do.
A moment later Jane was back.
'Sit!'
'Woof-woof! Do you want me to roll over and jump on command as well?'
'No, shutting up will suffice.'
To her astonishment, it didn't take long until Jane was done with her and she was surprised that her sister had barely put any makeup on her face.
With a triumphant smile, her sister pulled the blanket from the mirror: 'And what do you see now?'
'Myself, obviously.'
'Correct. This, Lizzy, is you and you look stunning and also very different from your usual self. You look like a lady. A gorgeous woman every man would stare at.'
'Yeah, right...'
Okay, she didn't look bad, if a bit pale perhaps, which was to be expected, but still, it felt so... - foreign to wear a dress and have makeup on.
Resigned Jane shook her head: 'You really don't get it, do you?'
'No obviously not, whatever it is I am supposed to get.'
'Oh, never mind, now onto the red dress.'
Three frickin' hours later they were at last through sorting through her clothes. It would have taken her a quarter of the time, for sure, had Jane not insisted she'd put on every single item of clothing aside from the stuff that had ended up in
her wardrobe but wasn't hers. And seriously, there had been a lot of that. Her mother, when putting away the laundry never paid much attention to what belonged to whom, which was the very reason for her sorting out her clothes to begin with.
In the end, many of her favourite T-shirts had ended up on the discarded pile while none of the things she would have thrown out had. There were still as many dresses and skirts as ever. Oh, joy! Well, in a couple of weeks she would have to repeat the whole stunt anyway. Plus, she now was sufficiently tired to take her father's advice and go back to bed.
Chapter 28:
Wedding crash-course
'You look grumpy, mate,' Charles Bingley remarked, looking at his friend from over his coffee cup. 'And there I always thought you are the morning person and not I.'
'I just haven't slept very well, that's all.'
Well, and he didn't look much forward to leaving Hertfordshire, truth be told. Yes, the past week had been pretty crazy, and that was even an understatement, but somehow it had been a nice kind of crazy. - Not like the crazy Caroline Bingley left in her wake; the one that led to people planning her murder only to refrain from it when eventually the realisation hit, that she wasn't worth going to prison for.
'Ah, well, tonight you will sleep in your own unsullied bed, isn't that something to look forward to?'
'Most certainly, but that won't make me any more awake at present, will it?'
'No, but it's this thing about thinking positive, you know? By the way, Jane and I are leaving for London tomorrow.'
'Didn't you want to be there when the workmen arrive?'
'Yep, but I mean, it's not as if London is very far from here, I'll just go back tomorrow for the day and then dash back again. Easy enough.'
'Love must be a wonderful thing...' Darcy grinned teasingly.
'Well, mate, you would know. You did get her phone number, didn't you?'
'Whose? Jane's? No, why would I?'
'Are you really that daft? Lizzy's!'
'Well...'
'Seriously, what am I to do with you? Both of you actually.'
'Nothing. Why would you?'
'Because never in my life have I come across a pair of more hapless people when it comes to love matters than the two of you.'
'Lizzy is a friend, Bingley, nothing more.'
At least he presumed they were friends.
Yes, okay, his feelings were not solely friendly. Shit, when it came to that, he wouldn't even mind fulfilling Mrs Bennet's dearest wish within the next year or two, or when Lizzy had finished her studies and it was more convenient to start a family. Not that a baby was much of a hindrance considering that he worked from home most of the time. Plus, he had some experience with children, so...
Great, his thoughts ran rampant again. He really shouldn't go there. What was it about this woman that made him so weak in the knees? That made his heart beat so much faster each and every time he just thought of her? Not to speak of being close to her?
'And friends don't exchange telephone numbers? Right...' Bingley smirked knowingly as if he had read his thoughts.
'Well, if it is any consolation, I've got it. So, does that please you?'
Okay, he didn't get it from Elizabeth herself, and he wasn't sure whether he should really call her, but when Lydia had handed him the slip of paper with her sister's mobile number on it, he had safely tucked it away into his pocket and had saved it on his phone as soon as he was back at Netherfield.
'Thank goodness! I thought I need to ask Jane and then sneakily save it on your phone somehow.'
'Why is it, that everybody seems to assume that Lizzy and I are a thing?'
'Because the majority of people is not as blind as you are, that's why. I mean, I can't recall a single time when you've put up with so much silliness and were still in a good mood at the end of the day. I mean, you come from a pretty normal family where I am quite used to such antics. I mean compared to my own sister, Kitty and Lydia are positively sensible and charming as silly and annoying as they can be at times.'
There was little doubt about that...
'Actually Kitty and Lydia are not all that bad at all. They just need a bit of encouragement and guidance and they should be fine.'
'See, that is exactly what I mean!'
'I'm definitely not in love with either of those two.'
'No, but you care for them nonetheless, because they are Lizzy's sisters. Mean as that might sound, but that is the only reason I put up with them.'
Okay, could his friend have a point there? And he hadn't even told Charles about the baby. Right, the non-existent baby to be precise. What would he say about Mrs Bennet and her enthusiasm to become a grandmother?
'It does sound mean, Bingley.'
His friend only shrugged grinning from ear to ear and then changed the subject.
'So, when are you leaving?'
'Shortly after I've finished breakfast.'
'Wow, you are in a hurry. Are you going to drop by at Longbourn on your way north?'
Was he? He had said goodbye to the Bennets the previous evening, but Lizzy had still been fast asleep in her bed then, so he hadn't seen her. Perhaps he should. Or probably not. Heck, what did he know?
'I'm not in a hurry, but there is nothing left for me to do around here, so I can just as well head back. There are some roadworks up the M 1 around Leicester and from Chesterfield on the roads are getting increasingly bad and winding, as you very well know. I mean, from Chesterfield to Pemberley I need almost as long as I need from St. Albans to Chesterfield, minus the inevitable traffic jam that is. This or the other way, I won't be home until the middle of the afternoon - and I really need to exercise the horses after such a long journey. It's one thing to have them on the trailer for an hour or two, but everything above that requires some compensation.'
'If you say so.'
'I do.'
Getting up to prepare his horses for the long journey Fitzwilliam Darcy bid his friend farewell and then left without further ado. Prolonging a taking leave was a silly thing anyway.
When he passed the roundabout that led to Longbourn, again he contemplated dropping by, but then decided against it.
Seeing Lizzy now, wasn't going to make it any easier, was it? And he was already missing her like hell as it was. No, it was time he'd return to Pemberley and then see what he could do about his sister. She should be foremost on his mind at present. She wasn't happy and that had to change asap. The school at Lambton might not be all that good, but Chesterfield wasn't that far off either.
Right, who was he kidding? Pemberley was in the middle of bloody nowhere. Driving to Chesterfield and back every day wasn't an option. But perhaps he could rent a room there for his sister. There were still elderly ladies who rented out rooms, right? Presumably, but would he trust any of them with his sister?
Okay, eventually he would figure something out. A long drive on the road was just the thing for that. And fortunately, no-one would question his sanity when he kept talking to himself as if he were holding a conversation. Angie and Lucifer would have a field day once again...
The motorway was, just as he had expected, packed with traffic. He had not passed Rugby when his phone rang.
'Darcy,' he answered rather harshly as he had just tried to figure out, whether Chesterfield, Lambton or Sheffield really was an option for Georgiana, and if, how to manage.
Okay, Lambton would be pretty straightforward, but then it had occurred to him, that perhaps due to her family Georgiana might have a rather difficult standing there as well. Bloody hell, for a little more than an hour his mind had been running in circles. Great!
'No need to snap at me, Fitzwilliam!'
Okay, on the plus side it wasn't Caroline Bingley calling, but there was only one other person who called him Fitzwilliam and that, on the downside, was his aunt.
'Sorry, Aunt Cathy. How are you?'
'Are you driving?'
'Well, yes, but I've got a handsfree set in the car. So, how are
you? How is Anne?'
'Oh, so-so, I would say. You can't believe how difficult it is to get any decent staff these days!'
He could. Easily. It wasn't all that difficult if one was actually reasonable but that term did not exactly apply to his aunt.
'I've just fired my head-chef. Can you believe it, he made cottage pie the other day. Cottage pie! It is not to be borne. I sometimes really wonder what people are thinking.'
Yep, and as always there was little need for a reply.
'And then it is left up to me to sort things out. It always is the same, I tell you, Fitzwilliam. And no-one is willing to take ones advice. Oh no!'
'And what is so bad about that then? The pie I mean. I like cottage pie,' he managed to inquire as his aunt fumed with indignation.
'That may well be, Fitzwilliam, but I like to have a certain distinction of rank preserved, and Rosings is not just some pub around the corner it is an event seminar and I expect something more feudal than cottage pie, as do my guests. I mean, how would it look if people came here and be served nothing better than pub-food?'
Right... - Why ponder on the important things in life, when one could worry about cottage pie?
'Anyway, I had a couple of fellows over for an interview and can you believe it, one suggested to serve sushi! Are we in China now?'
'Japan, Aunt Cathy.'
'Fiddlesticks. Is it really too much to ask for some decent English food?'
'Like what for example?'
Seriously, you couldn't get much more English than cottage pie or other traditional pub-food.
'A nice dish of game like deer or pheasant - or roast beef, lamb shanks; steak pie, if you must, for all I care. Some decent oxtail-soup, or duck liver pate.'
'What about the cost?'
'What about the cost?'
'Last time I checked you had a certain budget set aside for each guest.'
'I still have. Of course, I have. What a nonsensical question!'
Right... - Patience, Darcy!
'Have you checked lately how much a pound of beef costs? Or pheasant? Or duck liver?'
'Why would I? It's the chef's job. That is what I employ him for. But seriously, no-one ever listens to what I say.'