by Jayne Bamber
Caroline knew she had not always refrained from speaking ill of her own family members. She had been fiercely competitive with her sister in their younger years, and since Louisa’s marriage to Mr. Hurst, Caroline had never hesitated to disparage her brother by marriage to anybody, even Louisa herself. She had even been unkind about Charles, both to his face and behind his back, a circumstance she now bitterly regretted. That Lydia would make such an observation about the other ladies, and actually commend Caroline for being kinder to her own family than Miss Elliot or Mrs. Yates, Caroline found rather endearing. She had no qualms about demanding Miss Lydia’s respect, but she had no notion that she might actually wish to deserve it.
As to the postscript, Caroline wondered if she should even dignify it with a response. She had already acknowledged that young women, particularly those in fashionable circles of society, were positioned to compete with one another, as it was merely a mechanism of the marriage mart. However, she herself was already married, as was that nasty piece of work Mrs. Yates. It should follow, from her previously stated logic, that there need not be any hostility between them, and yet certainly there was. It had not bothered Caroline very much, for Caroline had grown accustomed to this sort of repartee, accepting it as part of her daily life. At times she had even enjoyed it.
Suddenly, it began to seem rather intolerable, and this frightened Caroline. If the society to which she aspired was so unpleasant, why did she wish so desperately to be a part of it? What was the point in exerting so much energy to gain admittance to the company of people who were unpleasant to one another, and could not even spare a kind word for their own relations?
Caroline took a few ponderous bites of her pheasant, considering just what manner of wisdom she was to impart on Lydia next. The continued silence no longer seemed to unnerve the girl; in fact, Lydia seemed to have relaxed somewhat, and the two finished their meal in silence.
Once the dessert was served, Caroline felt herself ready to speak at last, having succeeded in pushing away her own fleeting self-doubt to focus on the task at hand. After all, Mrs. Darcy wanted her to improve Lydia, not encourage her to challenge the very structure of polished society! “You observed that I was the only lady present who did not speak disparagingly of my own family,” she prompted. “Can you tell me, what do you think of that, exactly?”
Lydia tapped her chin ponderously. “Miss Elliot is very wealthy. She is also a little older than you, I think? Yet her younger sister is married, and expecting a child. She is jealous of her sister, and takes delight in pointing out what might be seen as a shortcoming on her sister’s part, although I think it is not uncommon for wealthy gentlemen to stray from their marriage vows, if my novels are to be relied upon. Indeed, if I were married to her,” Lydia snorted, “I am certain I should do the same thing!”
Against her better judgment, Caroline laughed. How she despised Elizabeth Elliot! After indulging in her mirth, she reminded Lydia not to make such unladylike noises, and gestured for Lydia to continue.
“So… in speaking so disparagingly of her sister, who I suppose is the real victim of the story, honestly, Miss Elliot was showing that for all her finery she is not a very good person, else she would feel sorry for her poor sister being a disgraced widow. And really, suggesting that her sister even had a hand in covering up her husband’s murder was a bit much, was it not?”
“Indeed it was. Very good. And Mrs. Yates?”
“Mrs. Yates’s sister was the lady in the story who took a lover, and disgraced their family. Kind of like how Jane did to our family, and even I knew better than to say so! Mrs. Yates was accepting of Miss Elliot talking openly about it because it gave her an opportunity to distance herself from her fallen sister and say that her family had broken with Mrs. Rushworth, so that she does not share in Mrs. Rushworth’s ruin?”
“Exactly so. One fallen sister casts doubt on all the others, as I am sure you must be aware.”
Lydia looked startled. “So if people think Georgiana Darcy is ruined, does that reflect poorly on me? We are only sisters by marriage.”
Caroline looked sternly at the girl. “Georgiana Darcy is not a fallen woman. That rumor is a vicious lie, even if it were true, do you understand me?”
Lydia hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. “How could it be a lie even if it were true?”
“Because things are whatever you say they are. If you do not wish to be tainted by association, then it is of the utmost importance to your own reputation that Miss Darcy’s be upheld as well. Money can accomplish a great deal, but it cannot protect you from gossips of the ton. That is what makes family so important. Do you wish to be the same kind of woman as Miss Elliot and Mrs. Yates, throwing their sisters to the wolves of society to preserve themselves? I think you do not have such a luxury, for you have not the wealth and station of Miss Elliot, nor a gentleman husband, as Mrs. Yates does. In truth, you have hardly anything that Mr. Darcy does not give you, and therefore it behooves you to repay his kindness, for kindness it is, his wanting to help improve you, by in turn lifting up his sister in her time of need. Tell me this, Lydia, would you rather see Georgiana Darcy disgraced, and your own prospects sunk with hers, or would you prefer to see her reputation preserved, so that she might marry befitting her station, thus putting you in the path of other rich gentlemen? Gentlemen like Mr. Darcy, for instance, who have the means to marry penniless country girls with little but their charms to recommend them? Provided, of course, you aspire to develop some of these charms yourself.”
Lydia grinned as comprehension dawned on her. “I see now. So it really does not matter if the rumors are true or not, only how I react to them. That is why I am not to disparage Georgiana, or talk about how much she annoys me, even if I truly loathe her?”
“The short answer is yes, but Lydia, you do not loathe her, do you understand me?”
Lydia pouted. “She does not like me, either.”
“That is her prerogative, as your superior, though I am sure you have given her little reason to like you, Lydia. Therefore, you have given her little reason to introduce you to those suitable gentlemen I was speaking of.”
“Oh. So I should pretend to like her, the way you do with people you do not like?”
Caroline sighed. “If that is the best you can do for now, then yes, but I should strongly urge you to make every endeavor to like her in earnest. She is not a simpleton, and will easily be able to discern the difference, no matter what you say. She is not like Miss Elliot, who is at ease with people who only pretend to like her. Miss Darcy is a sensitive creature, who responds to sincerity rather than flattery – at least, that has been my experience, for my attempts to flatter her have gotten me nowhere. You should do like me, and learn to read people better, or you will not get very far with Miss Darcy or anybody else.”
Lydia nodded slowly, processing this new information. “I cannot see why Lizzy could not simply tell me these things. Why did she have to send me to you to learn them? Why could she not teach them to me herself?”
“I cannot speak for Mrs. Darcy, or why she chose to handle things as she has. I suppose she has her hands full learning to run Mr. Darcy’s house here in Town, as well as Pemberley. And of course she is overseeing Miss Darcy’s debut into society, which of course must take precedence over your own.”
Lydia grinned devilishly at her. “You do not like Lizzy! I see what you are about! You do not like her but you will not speak ill of her, because you are not supposed to say bad things about people even if you do not like them, especially when they are richer than you and higher in society. I understand that now.”
“I am glad you comprehend that basic rule of propriety,” Caroline drawled. “As it happens, you are mistaken. I did not like your sister, when first we met. As we have discussed, single ladies are natural enemies. However, your sister’s position in society is secured, while mine is not. This has taught me the value of her friendship, and with that in mind I have discovered that she has ma
ny amiable qualities that I can respect. From that respect, friendship may yet grow. I think her vastly more amiable than Miss Elliot or Mrs. Yates.”
Lydia finished her apple tart and leaned back in her chair, sipping at her wine. “My, but you are clever. I have so much to learn!”
Caroline smiled, ready now to retire peacefully for the evening. “In that case, tomorrow at breakfast you will present me with a list of seven ways in which you wish to improve yourself, ranked in the order in which we shall address them.”
5
Hartfield, Surrey, late February
“Auntie Emma, you have another visitor,” Emma’s precocious four-year-old niece informed her, peeking out shyly from behind the drawing room door. Emma exchanged a worried glance with Mrs. Weston, hoping it was not Mr. Elton importuning her once more. She drew her black shawl tighter around herself, wincing at the great clamor of her niece and nephews playing rambunctiously in the drawing room at Hartfield. “Tell them they may come in.”
Emma breathed a sigh of relief at discovering that it was only Miss Bates, who fluttered busily into the room. “Oh, Miss Woodhouse, I see Mr. Knightley and Mrs. Weston are here already, and I wonder if you have already heard the news, but of course you must, I am sure I am always the last to hear of everything, but if you have not heard, it is the most astonishing thing, you will never believe it!”
Suspecting what her well-intending but irksome spinster neighbor was about, Emma leaned back against the sofa to reveal Harriet seated beside her, and Miss Bates’s excitement only intensified. “Miss Smith is here – I suppose you must already know. Of course Miss Smith must want to share the news herself, I daresay it must be her place to tell you – I am sure I never meant to overstep, my dear Miss Smith, but only think of how excited you must be! I am sure I never heard anything like it! Who would have guessed that such a thing could happen in our own quiet little village?”
Miss Bates made herself comfortable in her usual chair by the fireplace and looked down at the piece of parchment in Emma’s hands, as Harriet received Miss Bates’s effusions with what composure she could. “Dear me, is that the famous letter? And here I thought my weekly letters from Jane were quite exciting enough, but I daresay you shall think my news of Jane Fairfax nothing compared to Miss Smith’s great letter, I am sure!”
Emma forced herself to smile, her head pounding from the din of her niece and nephews’ noisy games, combined with the great shock of Harriet’s big news. She did not trust herself to give a civil reply, and merely looked to Harriet, who passed the letter from Emma to Miss Bates. “You can read it, I do not mind.”
Miss Bates took the letter with an audible gasp of reverence. “My goodness, what an elegant hand! I daresay this is the most important letter of your life. But of course it is. Something like this happening right here in Highbury, it is so romantic! But I think Miss Woodhouse is not surprised. No indeed. You said yourself last September, did you not, dear Miss Woodhouse? Yes indeed, I am sure you must have suspected all along, your intuition is so very good. You must have foreseen it, when you selected Miss Smith as your particular friend, that she must be the daughter of somebody so important and rich!”
Miss Bates examined the letter itself, muttering over the various elegant phrases written in Lady Catherine’s own hand. “Treasured daughter! Granddaughter of an Earl! And an heiress at that! Townhouse in London… balls and parties… new gowns… Rosings Park in Kent! Oh my goodness, my goodness gracious.”
Harriet flushed with embarrassment. “It is a surprise,” she admitted. “Miss Woodhouse is so very kind to me, and she may have suspected me of being of such high birth, but I am certain I never did. I still cannot believe it.”
“So modest,” Miss Bates exclaimed. “I am sure your new mother will be very well pleased with you, and you already have some very fine friends here in Highbury, perfectly worthy of being companions to the granddaughter of an Earl – and Miss Woodhouse is a very fine lady herself, and of course Mr. Knightley, and Mrs. Weston too. Miss Bates, perhaps not so much,” she laughed nervously. “But then I suppose I should have the pleasure of saying to myself that I know a very grand young lady in London, indeed. I was just saying so to my mother this morning, when we came away from Mrs. Goddard’s, and Mrs. Goddard was quite beside herself with astonishment, but poor Mamma was so tired and needed to rest, but she said I must come to Hartfield without her and see you all, and hear what you all think of the news.”
“I, for one, am absolutely delighted for dear Harriet,” Mrs. Weston said.
“As am I,” Emma agreed, putting on a brave smile, though in her heart she knew she only half meant it. Harriet’s company had become invaluable the last few months. Though she knew she would always have Mrs. Weston for companionship and support, she realized that she would feel Harriet’s loss keenly, though she ought to rejoice at Harriet’s parentage being so fortuitously revealed, just as she had once predicted.
“It says here,” Miss Bates said, returning her attention to the letter, “that you are to join your parents in London on the first of March – that is but a week away! Oh my goodness, to think you will be leaving us so soon! Certainly we must give you some sort of grand send-off, so that you do not forget us all when you are dancing at balls and parties every night! What a shame Miss Woodhouse shall still be in mourning – certainly we cannot have a celebration for you here at Hartfield,” she fretted.
Pained as she was, as she had been for the last one hundred and twenty seven days, Emma could not begrudge her guest for making such a careless speech, for her thoughts had taken a similar bent. Under happier circumstances, a going-away party for Harriet would be just what Emma would have wished, and she dearly hoped her friend would not forget her in the face of all of the splendors and amusements London had to offer.
“You certainly must write to me, Harriet,” Emma replied, feeling herself unequal to expressing what she ought to at such a time.
“Of course,” Miss Bates replied. “I am sure we shall be longing to hear tales of your exploits in London, for we shall be very dull here in Highbury without you. You must write us all, particularly Miss Woodhouse, as I am certain your new parents could not object to you having such an acquaintance here in the country. Miss Woodhouse can read Mamma and I your letters when she visits every Wednesday, and they shall certainly take precedence over my letters from Jane, although I hope Jane will be amongst us very soon. How happy she will be for you! Certainly her travels to Sussex with the Campbells will seem like nothing at all compared to your adventures with Lady Catherine and Sir Gerald! And Sir Gerald is actually Mrs. Goddard’s own brother - she has been your aunt all these years, and never knew! I do long to hear what your parents are like!”
Emma willed herself not to roll her eyes at the near constant mention of Miss Bates’s niece, Jane Fairfax, whose every thought was praised as perfection and reported at length in weekly letters that Miss Bates forced upon anyone who would listen, a tradition that had annoyed Emma for many years.
Harriet, whom Emma knew possessed infinitely more forbearance than herself, took one of Miss Bates’s hands in her own. “Of course I shall write. I shall have so much to tell you! Only I still feel very sorry to have to go away, but you must not think I could ever forget your kindness to me.”
“You dear girl,” Miss Bates preened. She remained for another quarter hour, dominating much of the conversation with her effusions of delight on Harriet’s behalf, before announcing it was time she returned to the village to look after her mother. After she had gone, Harriet declared herself quite exhausted from the excitement of the morning, and asked if she might lie down in the guest room upstairs before walking back to Mrs. Goddard’s.
“Of course, dear Harriet,” Emma replied. “You know we look upon the Rose Room as quite your own when you are here. Rest as long as you like, and I shall call for the carriage to take you back to Mrs. Goddard’s when you are ready.”
“Oh, poor Mrs. Goddard,” Harriet replied
, her anxiety and embarrassment apparent. “I am sure the news was a great shock to her. I hope she does not worry that she has not treated me as she ought to have, for she did not know me to be her own relation. Truly, she has always been nothing but kind to me. I am very sorry for having given her any alarm.”
Emma watched her friend retreat with a surge of affection in her breast; in the brief months of their friendship, she had come to rely on Harriet’s companionship almost as much as she relied on Mrs. Weston, who had been a steadying presence in her life for fifteen years. Once Harriet was gone, Emma reclined on the sofa, shooing away her young nephew Henry, who was always demanding more of her attention than she could spare.
Mrs. Weston began distracting the children with a game of alphabet letters, which promised to offer Emma a few minutes of respite from the near constant demands of her young relations. With Harriet gone, Mr. Knightley could now speak freely, and did so at once, disposed as he always was to disapprove of something or other.
Taking up the letter from where Harriet had left it on the table, he said, “I think it a very ill-advised plan, from start to finish. To remove a young girl such as Harriet, with so limited an education and range of experience in the world, from the environs to which she has long been accustomed, and such society as she has long been comfortable in, to bring her out into London society, where she can have none of the benefits of education and accomplishments as she must find in her peers – foolishness indeed!”