by Jayne Bamber
***
Harriet’s first family dinner was gotten through tolerably well, though there were some moments of uncertainty, from the newness of so many refined dishes, to the rather startling amount of cutlery required to consume them. Both the dining room and the meal were finer than anything she had experienced even at Hartfield. She had learned a great deal of refinement from her friend in Highbury, and soon the welcoming manners of her parents and new relations made Harriet begin to push her fears aside and prepare to grow grander still.
By the end of the meal she was perfectly at ease with her sister Cecily, her brother-in-law Jasper, and her cousins Kate and Robert, all of whom were very civil and eager to welcome her into the family. Mrs. Weston proved once more to be a comforting presence at the table, giving a little nod of approval whenever Harriet expressed herself well, and gesturing discreetly to Harriet whenever she had used the wrong utensils or done anything else amiss.
After supper, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room. They amused themselves playing at cards, and Mrs. Weston assisted Harriet as they made up a game of whist, partnering her mother. While Harriet suspected that Cecily and Kate had let her win, her mother had declared herself very satisfied with Harriet’s proficiency at the game, though she was less successful at piquet.
When the gentlemen joined them, Cecily gave a performance on the pianoforte, which Harriet could only behold with equal measures of awe and envy. Lady Catherine assured Harriet that she should be given a tutor, and in no time at all she herself would become a great proficient. “There is nobody in England with better natural taste than I,” said she. “I myself never learnt, but Harriet, my dear, you shall have every opportunity.”
“And if your fingers are clumsy like mine,” Kate rejoined, “You shall just have to learn to sing instead!”
Lady Catherine gave Kate a superior look. “I see no reason why she cannot do both!”
Harriet was moved to say that she had sang a little bit with Miss Woodhouse in Highbury, prompting her sister and cousin to beg her to sing for them now, while Cecily played accompaniment. Harriet selected a simple song she had learned from Miss Woodhouse, and though she knew her performance must do her little credit, her new relations applauded generously.
“That was splendid, my child,” her father commended her.
“Oh yes,” her mother agreed. “I am prodigiously proud of you already!”
“And now let us see you dance,” her father cried. Mrs. Weston offered up her own services at pianoforte, as Harriet’s father took her by the hand, and the Fitzwilliams and the Middletons made up two more couples for a very lively reel.
“Well done,” Lady Catherine applauded them all when they had finished. “Very superior dancing, indeed,” she said, beckoning Harriet to come and sit beside her. “I daresay your dancing master will find you an ideal pupil.”
Harriet smiled weakly, relieved that she had pleased her parents enough, though she evidently still required further instruction. Mrs. Weston took a seat on the other side of Harriet, declaring how proud their friend Miss Woodhouse would be if she could see Harriet now.
A game of charades was suggested next, in which Harriet felt she acquitted herself rather well, if not in the clarity of her performance, at least in arousing a great deal of companionable laughter from the younger members of her new family. After that, Mr. Middleton graced them all with some very commanding reading of Shakespeare, and then Lady Catherine decreed that the hour had grown quite late enough, and they must all retire. As Harriet basked in the comfort of her fine feather bed, she reflected on how quickly she had come to feel at home amongst her new relations. If the rest of her family was so amiable, she might do very well indeed!
***
The next few days passed in a similar fashion, with Harriet taking such pleasure in the company of her new family that it began to feel like a fairytale. Lady Catherine was disposed to spoil her new daughter, and Harriet’s second day in London was spent largely in going from one place to another to acquire a fashionable new wardrobe. She protested at every shop the inordinate amount of money her mother must be spending, but Harriet was at every turn reminded that she was soon to be put on display for all of London society, and no expense would be spared. Kate assured Harriet that she herself had been equally apprehensive, when first she had come into Lady Catherine’s care, but had quickly grown accustomed to being so indulged. “There is no use in protesting,” Kate chided her, “you must reconcile yourself with growing as pampered and posh as the rest of us.”
Harriet did just that. A full wardrobe was ordered for her, with a few things to last through the end of winter, as well as a great many more gowns and accoutrements for the coming spring and summer. Lady Catherine’s taste was impeccably smart, and the modistes she patronized were the finest in the country. Happily, Harriet found eager allies in Kate and Cecily, who understood her reluctance at so much finery. After the third or fourth shop, Lady Catherine had been soundly chastised by Kate, and moved to allow Harriet to select a few simpler items for herself.
Reassuring though her budding friendship with Kate and Cecily was, Mrs. Weston’s presence on the shopping trip was a much greater comfort, for she was always on hand to whisper to Harriet gentle reminders that she was worthy of such extravagance. She encouraged Harriet to pick out a little gift for Miss Woodhouse, which Harriet thought was a right thing to do, and so with her newly-granted pin money, Harriet’s first purchase was a little brooch which Mrs. Weston promised to deliver to Miss Woodhouse in person.
Lady Catherine commended Harriet’s generosity in thinking of her friend back in Surrey, lavishing her with even more praise than Mrs. Weston had done. The shopping trip was concluded with a visit to a crowded café where they tried delicious flavored ices together, which Harriet enjoyed far more than being fitted for gowns.
The two days after that were full of sightseeing for Harriet and her new family. She took in the splendor of St. George’s Cathedral, marveled at the exotic creatures of the Royal Menagerie, and ambled along the Serpentine at Hyde Park. Next they visited the Piccadilly Circus, and feasted on a lavish dinner at Vauxhall Gardens, with fireworks at the end. It was overwhelming, even exhausting at times, to partake of so much enjoyment in so short a space of time, and yet Harriet could not get enough of these new delights, the greatest of which remained the love of her parents.
***
Rebecca and Mary were chatting idly in the music room when a footman entered to announce Mr. George Knightley. Recalling how contrary the gentleman had been when last they had met in September, Rebecca gave Mary a look of saucy amusement. “I wonder what business he has with Darcy. Certainly he could have nothing to say to me.” To the footman she replied, “Tell Mr. Knightley that Mr. Darcy is from home at present, and if you would be so kind as to get his direction, I will ask my cousin to answer his call as soon as he returns.”
As the footman stepped out into the corridor to convey her message, Mary leaned in and whispered, “Mr. Knightley – he was the one who was quite severe upon you at the Banfields’ ball last autumn, after what happened with Mrs. Sutton?”
“Indeed, he made his sentiments known to me, but I am never daunted by criticism from those that do not know me well.”
No sooner had Rebecca spoken than the footman returned, Mr. Knightley standing just behind him in the doorway. “I beg your pardon, your ladyship,” said the footman, “but Mr. Knightley says his business is with you.”
Rebecca’s interest was piqued. Despite Mr. Knightley’s disapproval of her, she had found his vexing manners somewhat entertaining, and was curious to learn what he could have to say to her. As she and Mary stood to curtsey, she eyed him archly. “Good morning, Mr. Knightley. What an unexpected pleasure. I wonder at your coming all this way to see me – perhaps you have caught wind of some new mischief? But I can assure you, I have been behaving very well of late, is that not so, Mary?”
Mr. Knightley gave an odd scowl. “Miss Bennet, it
is a pleasure to see you. I hope your family is in good health, and all your sisters….”
“They are, sir, thank you.” Mary demurely took a seat on the sofa, but Rebecca remained standing, obliging Mr. Knightley to do the same.
“My family is in excellent health, as well, Mr. Knightley, thank you for asking. At least, I presume they are all in good health – perhaps you mean to scold me for not calling on Isabella, though I have been in Town for more than a month. Or perhaps it pleases you that I have kept my distance, as you seemed to think advisable in September.”
Mr. Knightley looked aggrieved and, beginning to feel rather guilty for needling him so, Rebecca smiled wickedly and extended her hand toward him. Mr. Knightley hesitated for a moment, a peculiar degree of distress on his countenance, before he took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. “Lady Rebecca, your cousins are in fact the very reason for my call this morning. I arrived in Town just yesterday, having conveyed Miss Harriet Smith – Miss Sutton – to the home of Lady Catherine, whom I understand is your aunt. I called there this morning, and met with your brothers and their wives; they told me I might find you here. I would have come sooner, but I had business at my brother’s house in Brunswick Square.”
“As I had no idea you were in Town, I cannot possibly be offended by your delaying your visit, particularly when I still cannot account for it. Pray tell me, are my cousins well? I know you were not fully serious in scolding me for taking an interest in them.”
Mr. Knightley did not meet her eye, but glanced first toward Mary and then to the open doors that led into the adjoining parlor. He gestured for Rebecca to accompany him into the next room, and as she followed him, she cast one backward glance at Mary. “Dearest, perhaps you would be so good as to play something for us, while I step into the parlor and speak with Mr. Knightley.”
Mary regarded her nervously for a moment before seating herself at the pianoforte, and she began the first strains of a concerto that would allow Rebecca and Mr. Knightley to speak with some degree of privacy. Mr. Knightley took Rebecca by the arm and led her to a sofa, his solemnity making Rebecca anxious. “Are my cousins well,” she asked again.
“I do not know how to say this,” Mr. Knightley said, seating himself in the chair across from her. “Your cousin Isabella died of a fever last October, about a month after we met at your cousins’ ball.”
Rebecca slumped heavily against the back of the sofa, bringing her hands up to her face to cover her dismay. “Good God! But that was months ago! How could I have heard nothing of it since then? Why was this kept from me?”
With a pained expression, Mr. Knightley withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Rebecca, as the tears began to spill freely down her cheeks. “There was an illness that afflicted many in Highbury last autumn. We think it originated from some gypsies that were in the area at the time. They were camped in the west fields, and we thought them perfectly harmless. If we had any idea they brought sickness with them, they would have been removed from the area much sooner. The fever took several people in the village. Though Mr. Woodhouse was always a fastidious man in matters of health, he was one of the first to become afflicted. John and Isabella were visiting at the time, and Isabella refused to leave her father’s side. It did not take long for his strength to give out – about a week. By the time he left this world, both of his daughters were abed with fever. Poor man died fearing for their lives above his own. I know not why my brother and I were spared, but we did everything we could to aid their quick recovery. Dr. Perry was with them day and night, and John even sent for a physician from London. By then it was too late for Isabella. Only Emma recovered.”
Mr. Knightley paused. A tear slid down his cheek as he held her gaze, and seeing him thus affected completely shattered Rebecca’s resolve to remain strong in front of him; she wept without restraint on the sofa across from him. “What of her children? Isabella has five children!”
“The children were removed from the house when Isabella took sick – a neighboring family, the Westons, took them in, and within a week my sister Charlotte came down from London to collect them, as John would not leave Isabella’s side. When Emma began to improve and Isabella did not, Emma was removed to the Weston’s home, where she eventually made a full recovery. It took her nearly a month to get her strength back, and by the time she returned to Hartfield, both her father and sister had been laid to rest in the parish cemetery. Once the illness was gone from the village, Charlotte brought the children back to John, and they are such a great comfort to him even now, though he has many burdens beyond his grief for his wife. Hartfield now legally belongs to him, as he knew it one day would, but not like this. It is a poor excuse for his not telling you sooner, but it is the truth.”
“Poor John! Poor Isabella! Good God, those poor children! They shall grow up without a mother.” Sobs began to rack Rebecca’s body as she considered this notion, which hit all too close to home for her. It was hard enough losing her own mother when she was nearly a woman grown, but Isabella’s children were still in the nursery; the youngest would likely not even remember her face.
As Rebecca closed her eyes and hugged herself with despair, she suddenly felt Mr. Knightley’s arm around her. He had moved to the sofa beside her, and pulled her into unexpected embrace. Thinking of nothing but her anguish, Rebecca allowed her head to rest on his shoulder, and her body leaned against his. “I am sorry, so very sorry,” said he, “I wish I did not have to give you such terrible news, and I hope my honesty has not caused you any undue pain.”
“You could not have broken the news in any possible way that would have affected me less, I suppose. It is just so shocking. Isabella and I have not been close since we were girls, but as we grew up we shared the bond of entering womanhood without a mother, and now all her poor children will share the same fate. Just like my poor cousin Georgiana. The world is a cruel place for motherless little girls.”
“It is much the same for the boys, I think,” he whispered, his face pressed up against hers as he cradled her in his arms. She began to weep once more, and a moment later felt a sudden pressure, as if he had kissed the top of her head. Feeling her heart twisting in torment, Rebecca braved a glance up at him, her face brushing against the rough stubble on his chin, and she let out a slight gasp as she beheld the tears in his eyes. Her fingers reflexively tightened their grasp on his soft woolen coat, and she felt his arms tighten around her ever so slightly. Another breathless sob escaped her lips, and Mr. Knightley’s face turned toward her; his lips slightly parting, he drew nearer still, and just as her eyes slipped closed and her breath caught in her throat, a sudden commotion in the corridor caused her to flinch. Mr. Knightley abruptly moved his hands down the length of her arms and drew back, even as Rebecca leapt up off of the couch, fidgeting with her dress as she tried not to think about what had nearly happened between them.
A moment later, Elizabeth and Georgiana entered the room, having returned from their morning calls. Elizabeth greeted Mr. Knightley warmly, before perceiving that something was amiss. “Rebecca, dearest,” Elizabeth said cautiously, “whatever has happened?”
Fresh tears fell down Rebecca’s face, but she was past caring for her appearance at such a time. “Cousin Isabella… has died. And my Uncle Woodhouse. Poor Emma barely survived, and the children….”
“Good God,” Elizabeth gasped. “I am so sorry, Rebecca. What a tragedy for your family.”
Rebecca nodded feebly at her friend. She wished to say something profound, but she found herself quite at a loss. It was the glistening eyes and compassionate countenance of Mr. Knightley that shook her all the way to her core, and feeling completely unfit for company, she quickly fled the room.
6
Elizabeth Darcy had more than one reason to be anxious that everything should go perfectly for the dinner party at Darcy house that night. Not only was she eager to impress the Earl and Countess of Matlock, who were to be in attendance, as well as make the newly arrived M
iss Harriet Sutton quite comfortable, but she and Kate had agreed between themselves that tonight would be the night they both made their special announcements to all the family assembled.
Perhaps she ought to feel guilty for excluding her mother and younger sister, but Elizabeth reminded herself that it was for the sake of everyone else’s equanimity, and for that she could not repine. Miss Harriet, though not as reticent as Georgiana, was more timid than Elizabeth had anticipated. She was not entirely reserved, for she had moments of charming and perfectly innocent animation and exuberance, but would inevitably get tongue-tied and fall silent whenever her self-consciousness got the better of her. Though Lady Catherine clearly doted on her, and Kate and Mrs. Middleton were both on warm terms with her as well, Miss Harriet was often blushing, apologizing for nothing, and gazing helplessly at her friend Mrs. Weston.
As the family congregated in the larger drawing room before dinner, Mary and Georgiana made every effort to put their new relation at ease, and Elizabeth was filled with pride in both of her sisters for their kindness. Lady Catherine, believing the assembled party to be sufficiently distracted, took the opportunity to sneak away, and Elizabeth followed her to the dining room, where she discovered the dowager rearranging her place cards at the table.
Elizabeth announced her presence in the room by laughing merrily. “Aunt Catherine, have we not spoken about this before? You know we do not stand upon ceremony here at Darcy House. I arrange my table perhaps less formally than others may do, but you shall simply have to bear it as best you can.”
Having been caught out, Lady Catherine set the place cards back down. “I know you prefer informality, and I would usually refrain from comment – I have done so before, but this time I cannot think it quite right, when we are not entirely a family party. There is another amongst us who is quite an outsider. I take these things into consideration, you know.”