Georgiana made a valiant attempt to keep a straight face, but Clarissa next to her fumbled for a napkin.
Fortunately, the first course was brought in and Lady Catherine did not see her as she collapsed into a fit of giggles.
But when the fit passed, Georgiana was struck by a certain realisation. She might not take Lady Catherine seriously, but she served as a reminder of the change in her status now. For the first time, she considered the implications of Lady Catherine’s speech.
She was now old enough to be married. Lady Catherine’s words were just the beginning of the pressure that society would bring to bear upon her to choose a husband, and choose quickly. The carefree time of being left to her own devices had gone forever. Whether the gentleman in question was Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr Gatley, or anyone else she had not yet met, she would before long have to start making decisions. Within a few short months, her future would be determined.
It was a terrifying prospect.
Chapter 4
We must endeavour to kidnap Miss de Bourgh,” announced Clarissa several days later as the three younger Darcy cousins were walking together in the tree-lined grove in Rosings Park. “We have to take her away from here. We cannot allow her to languish like this. I am certain Lady Catherine locks her in a tower when no one is around and forces her to drink some strange herbs that stop her from running away or talking to anyone. Nothing else would account for her condition.”
“Something villainous is most certainly afoot,” replied Frederick with mock gravity. “Lady Catherine must be in desperate need of her daughter’s fortune, having gambled all her husband’s money away. I am convinced she is poisoning Miss de Bourgh, slowly but steadily. Would you not agree, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana laughed. “I cannot imagine my aunt gambling a fortune away, however fond she may be of card games, but I am willing to entertain any idea you put forward as possible.”
“You need not make fun, you know,” said Clarissa, addressing her brother. “If you are so very clever, you may explain to us why Miss de Bourgh says hardly a word and has been reduced to such a pitiful condition. Have you seen how Mrs Jenkinson hovers around her constantly? I am convinced that Mrs Jenkinson is not her companion at all. She is her keeper.” She paused to allow her statement to sink in.
“You look sceptical, Georgiana, but can you deny that she is watched every moment? Why is it that Miss de Bourgh cannot wriggle a finger without someone noticing—either Mrs Jenkinson, Lady Catherine, or her maid Dawson? I have never seen the young lady alone. Why, I would not be surprised if someone watches her even when she is on the privy.”
Georgiana was suitably shocked at this remark. Clarissa threw her a wicked glance. “Yes, I know I ought not to mention such things. But that is neither here nor there. What explanation do you have, Frederick? Or do you think her quite ordinary and unremarkable?”
“She could be remarkable or odd without being a victim of a devious plot,” replied Frederick.
Clarissa made an impatient sound.
“I will grant you that she is not at all ordinary,” said Frederick. “Over the last week I have used every skill in conversation I ever learned. I have tried a variety of approaches. I have talked of the snow that fell on the fifteenth—which everyone has discussed most eagerly—but it did not motivate her. I have spoken banalities, uttered trivialities, spewed forth philosophical wisdom, and made the most outrageous remarks hoping that something might prompt her to speak. Nothing worked.”
“Oh, Fred, you did not!”
“I most certainly did,” replied Frederick. “But it made not a jot of difference. I still could not bring her to say more than two words at a time. Surely, even if she is very sickly, she would welcome some diversion? Unless, of course, she disapproves of our presence in her home, and her silence is prompted by disdain or arrogance. Miss Darcy, you know her better than we do. Is it possible that she despises us?”
Georgiana was at a loss to provide them with more information. She could not imagine that Anne was so very proud. But she was by no means certain. She could only remark, rather guiltily, that she had no idea.
To herself, she admitted uncomfortably that she had not made any genuine effort to speak to her cousin for years. She always enjoyed her visits to Rosings—in spite of her aunt—particularly when she came from school, because she knew her dear brother would be at Rosings at the same time and she saw so little of him generally. So her main objective in visiting Rosings was usually Fitzwilliam, and she rarely communicated with her cousin. To her, Anne was—Anne. Georgiana hardly spared her a moment.
“I do not believe that a sense of consequence motivates her,” said Clarissa with certainty. “It is fear and fear alone. Lady Catherine has threatened her. She is afraid to speak lest she reveal the terrible trials she has endured.”
Georgiana shook her head at Clarissa’s fanciful interpretation. Frederick chuckled.
“Clarissa is always like this,” he said to Georgiana. “She has read so many horrid novels she sees the whole of life itself as a never-ending conflict between villains and innocents.”
Clarissa frowned at her brother. “I would be grateful if you kept your opinions of me to yourself. You may wish to prejudice Georgiana against me, but I will not permit it.”
She turned her back to him and walked on ahead. Georgiana, caught amidst this wrangle between sister and brother, could not determine whether they were in earnest. She remained in an agony of indecision whether to intervene or not.
They continued a few steps in silence, with Clarissa walking in front of them. Very soon, however, she dropped back to join them, the quarrel forgotten, and addressed herself to Georgiana.
“You must tell us what occurred to make Anne what she is. Was she always so meek and biddable? She is such a scrawny thing. Yet I think if she were to build up her strength she could be quite taking, for though she is small and thin, her features are quite pleasant. If only she was not always so wet and miserable. With all those furs wrapped around her, she looks like a rain-soaked kitten.”
Georgiana laughed. “Oh, Clarissa! I thought you in earnest.”
“I am in earnest.”
Georgiana, recognizing that Clarissa really did want an answer, considered her question. “It seems that she was always like this. Though now that you have brought it up, I seem to recall a time when she was not.”
An image sprang to her mind of a girl climbing a tree. It was a distant memory, for Georgiana must have been very young at the time. In her mind’s eye she saw Anne laughing. She saw a bright face, with red cheeks and eyes that glowed. Anne had laughed and pelted apples at Georgiana and her brother, until finally Fitzwilliam could bear it no longer. He climbed the tree after her and dragged her down. Yet even then she had laughed. The memory seemed so at variance with the present that Georgiana was ready to dismiss it as nothing more than her imagination.
“I remember she was struck down by a putrid fever,” she replied, trying to recall what was vague at best. “It was the same illness that killed Sir Lewis. Anne never recovered her strength afterwards. I think that, for some time, Lady Catherine lived in fear of losing Anne as well. But no one has mentioned it since, so I cannot be sure.”
“How long ago was that?” asked Clarissa.
“Sir Lewis died about twelve years ago.”
Clarissa shuddered. “Twelve years of being smothered and cosseted! That is enough to make anyone sickly and cross.”
“You must not say such things!” said Georgiana, coming belatedly to her cousin’s defence. “It is not her fault if her health is delicate.”
“I did not mean that it was, only that I would never have accepted it. I would have fought harder to overcome my weakness.”
Georgiana smiled at her cousin’s statement. “That is easy to say when one is strong,” she said, “but who knows what one would do under the circumstances
? Being constitutionally weak is bound to erode one’s will.”
Frederick stopped at this point and announced his intention to return to the house.
“We know too little about the situation to make a judgement. Clarissa tends to exaggerate, but I would certainly like to discover more, especially as she is almost a cousin of ours. Our best course of action now will be to question Darcy about her, for he will remember a great deal more than Georgiana, since he is much older.”
Clarissa grinned at him. “By all means. Anything you can find out will surely help us resolve this puzzle.”
With a quick bow to Georgiana, he strode away.
“Your brother is very obliging,” remarked Georgiana.
“Oh, I do not believe him for a moment. He has only returned to the house because he is tired of my wild fancies. A game of billiards with Darcy is of far more interest to him than spending time with us.”
This was hardly flattering for Georgiana, who was enjoying Frederick’s company. She must have revealed her disappointment because Clarissa corrected herself at once.
“Oh! I did not mean that he is bored with you! But what young man would choose to stroll around with relations far younger than himself if he can spend time with gentlemen-about-town like Robert and your brother?”
“True enough,” said Georgiana, though not particularly convinced.
“In any case, we must make our own plans. We need not depend on my brother for anything. The first thing we must do is find a way to talk with Miss de Bourgh alone. We must draw her away from Mrs Jenkinson, who is no doubt set to spy on her. Then, when she is alone with us, we can convince her to confide her situation to us. Perhaps there is some way we can help her.”
Georgiana mulled this over. It was true that Anne was never left alone. And however fanciful it may be to cast Lady Catherine as the villain of a Gothic novel, Georgiana was aware that Lady Catherine was a formidable parent who allowed her daughter very little independence.
She was mortified to think that she had never thought of reaching out to her cousin and helping her before.
***
Clarissa was certainly right about Frederick, for when Georgiana approached him later to ask if he had found out anything more about Anne, he looked confused at first and then smiled wryly.
“I have not had the chance of a private moment with Darcy yet,” he said. “But we are going out together later this afternoon, and I will try to ask him then.”
His response confirmed to Georgiana Clarissa’s superior knowledge of gentlemen’s behaviour.
“You were right about your brother,” she said to Clarissa when she saw her a short time later. “You understand people far better than me, even though you are more than a year younger.” Her statement held a minute note of envy.
Clarissa immediately dismissed her praise.
“Fiddle-de-dee! Knowing my brother hardly demonstrates superior understanding,” she replied. “He is altogether too predictable. Besides, you must remember that I grew up with three brothers.” She peered round the edge of the door into the drawing room, and, finding it empty, ran to sit in Lady Catherine’s chinoiserie chair.
“I do declare,” said Clarissa, “I feel like a monarch.”
“You must not, Clarissa!” Georgiana protested, casting an anxious glance towards the door and half laughing. “Suppose she were to come upon us?”
“I cannot imagine what she would do if she does come upon us,” said Clarissa. “Is there a rule that no one but Lady Catherine is allowed to sit in that chair?”
“No. At least, there is no spoken rule. But the fact is, nobody does, and it would vex her exceedingly.”
“I care little if she is vexed. I also like to sit in this chair.” But she sprung up and waved her hand towards the piano forte.
“Do you like music? Or, I should ask, are you a proficient player?”
Playing the piano forte was one of Georgiana’s most treasured accomplishments. She could happily spend several hours a day playing and considered herself a good musician. She did not want to appear boastful, however.
“I have been told I am,” she replied modestly.
“Good. Then we have something in common, for I am generally deemed to be a talented player,” said Clarissa. “We shall have to play for each other. Wait here. I will go up to fetch some music, and we can judge each other’s playing for ourselves.”
Clarissa returned presently with several sheets of music.
“I have Les Adieux by Beethoven. It was the latest piece of his to be had in Boston. I do not know if he has published anything since. Do you not like Mr Beethoven? Is he not sublime?”
“I cannot say I like him. I find him too ponderous.”
“You must not have heard him played as I have or you would not say such a thing. Listen!”
She opened the piano, and spreading her fingers across the keys, she began to play.
Georgiana listened as her cousin had bid her and marvelled. She had never heard Beethoven played as her cousin played him, with so many contrasts and in such an evocative manner.
“Well, Cousin? Do you see now how Beethoven’s music is not as heavy as you pronounced him? You know, he wrote this piece when Napoleon was marching into Vienna. Fortunately, it has a happy ending.”
“I admit myself mistaken,” replied Georgiana readily. “But how did you learn to play so well? If only I could aspire to half your skill and expression, I would be happy.”
“Tut! When I have heard so much from your brother about your skill. I was worried you would think me beneath your notice. Come,” she said, pulling her towards the piano and pressing her to sit on the bench. “I have played for you. Now it is your turn.”
Georgiana chose a piece by Cramer she knew very well. She executed it perfectly, with only one minor error, and by the end felt very pleased with herself.
“I see your reputation is not exaggerated,” said Clarissa. “Though with your permission, I have a comment to make.”
Georgiana was accustomed to receiving general applause whenever she played. So she smiled at her cousin’s remark and said that she would be happy to hear anything her cousin had to say. She supposed that it would be an extravagant compliment.
“Your execution is faultless,” said Clarissa, “and your playing—perfection itself. Nevertheless, there is something lacking.”
Georgiana was quite at a loss as to how to react to this unexpected criticism.
“You would be a far superior player if you could infuse your performance with more feeling.”
Georgiana swallowed. “Surely you jest, Clarissa.”
“No, I am serious. I believe you are the more skilful player of us two. But when music lacks heart, there is something hollow in the performance. I will show you the difference.”
Clarissa turned to the first page of the piece Georgiana had been playing, “You can play this piece in so many ways. You may play it gaily,” she said, and her fingers pranced across the piano. The music came out sounding almost comical.
“Or you may be solemn.” She played the next few bars in a grave, studied way, and the piece turned ponderous.
Georgiana shook her head. “But you cannot change the music from what it is meant to be. You cannot bend it to your will. I do not believe one should force one’s own temperament onto the music.”
Clarissa put down the piano cover and rose. “I was, of course, exaggerating, to prove my point. I will not try to convince you to play against your will. Indeed, you play remarkably well. Our divergence stems merely from a difference in style. Come, let us leave, for I hear Lady Catherine’s voice, and I do not wish to be compelled to play for her. I can put up with opinionated remarks about almost anything, but I like music too much to allow her to instruct me when she knows nothing about it.”
***
That evening two yo
ung men arrived at the invitation of Mr Darcy to make up a card party. Georgiana saw them from the stairs as they strode towards the library. One was Mr Gatley, though all she caught of him was a glimpse of broad shoulders and dark hair coiling above a night-blue coat. She had never seen the other gentleman. She had the impression of a lithe form with an easy stride, merry blue eyes under a fashionable sweep of ash hair, and refined features. He nodded to her as he passed by, acknowledging her presence.
The party was intended for the gentlemen alone. Lady Catherine, however, had no intention of allowing the men to disappear from under her jurisdiction for a whole evening.
“Where are you taking that table?” she said to the hapless footman who was carrying a card table that way. “Is that the table from my parlour? Why are you not setting it up in the living room?”
“Mr Darcy requested it, your ladyship. He specifically mentioned the library.”
“Nonsense. They cannot intend to neglect the ladies when it is only nine o’clock. They may have their own card game later. Gentlemen keep late hours, in any case. It can be no great sacrifice to postpone their own party until after they have played with us.”
Under other circumstances, Georgiana would have been delighted with the opportunity to mix with gentlemen that were unknown to her. But she was wary of Mr Gatley. Something about him put her on the alert—or on the defensive, she was not quite certain which—and made her wish to avoid him. She was quite at a loss to account for it, for she could not put her finger on any particular cause. She had the feeling that he was a person who was quick to judge others and who was only too ready to find fault with them.
It was with some hesitation, therefore, that she agreed to join them in a rubber of whist. Her instincts told her she would do well to excuse herself and retire to her room.
The attraction of mixing with two handsome young gentlemen is a temptation few young ladies can turn resist, however. Georgiana told herself she ought to at least discover what it was about Mr Gatley that disturbed her. And she unquestionably wanted to meet the other gentleman.
The Darcy Cousins Page 4