by Jayne Bamber
Elizabeth tried very hard not to roll her eyes. “Surely you do not consider Caroline Sutton an outsider, now that she is your own daughter-in-law. If you do not hold my humble origins against me, you cannot do so for her.”
“It is this Mrs. Weston, who is not related to any of us, not even by marriage. Oh, I know she is married to a gentleman now, but it was not always so. She was governess to the former Countess’s sister! I know all about it, for it was I who recommended her to Mrs. Woodhouse.”
“Indeed? How curious that you thought highly enough of her then to recommend her for such a post, and yet now you will not dine with her.”
“Of course I will dine with her. I brought her here in my carriage, and she is a guest in my home, though I cannot think why my daughter requires her continued presence, now that she has her mother and father. She clings to Mrs. Weston so – I cannot like it, Elizabeth.” Lady Catherine pulled out one of the chairs from the dining table and sat down with a heavy sigh.
Elizabeth did likewise, drawing her chair near Lady Catherine’s. “You need not be so downcast over the matter. She has been with you but five days; her acquaintance with Mrs. Weston is of a much longer duration than that. It is natural she should cling to something familiar from her former life, surely you must understand.”
“I do not understand that. I do not see why I should understand that. How many girls would give anything in the world to be raised from such a lowly station, to discover they are actually descended from one of the finest bloodlines in England.”
Elizabeth repressed the urge to smirk at her aunt, who must be envisioning herself as a fairy godmother of sorts, like something out of a children’s story. Reality, Elizabeth knew, was never so pretty. “I have often felt that way myself,” said she. “Kate has felt it as well, as I am sure you must be aware.”
“Kate could not wait to leave her former life behind, with none of this clinging to the past as Harriet does.”
Elizabeth let out a snort of laughter. “Can you not think why? With all due respect, you have met our mother. Between Mamma and Lydia’s rather overbearing presence at Longbourn, I am sure Kate was all too eager to be away from there, and I daresay you did rather spoil her. But perhaps Harriet was not so unhappy in her former life, as Kate was before she went to Rosings. I understand from Mr. Knightley that their acquaintances in Highbury are very pleasant people, and with Harriet having little to vex her in her former situation, it is only natural that she should think fondly of the environs to which she was long accustomed. She did not have such reasons as Kate had to desire an escape and long for something greater. That does not mean that she will not grow to enjoy her new life – indeed she was speaking very happily about her first few days with you, just now. You must give her time; it has not yet been a full week. And it is plain to see that she is rather in awe of you, and Sir Gerald as well. I am certain that affection will grow in time, but you cannot expect a miracle overnight. To go from being a parlor boarder to granddaughter of an earl is no small thing, and that she holds such an affection for her former friends shows a real sweetness of character and humility of spirit that any mother should be proud of.”
Lady Catherine smiled, her eyes misting over, and she squeezed Elizabeth’s hand. “My dear girl, there are times when I cannot at all recall why I ever found you so very objectionable. You are far too clever for me. I hope you are right about Harriet. She is very sweet indeed, and I am prodigiously proud of her. Though I do not necessarily think her humility a good thing, for I would wish to see her proud of her new station, perhaps it does speak well of her, that she should be so kindly disposed toward those who were kind to her even before they knew her true rank in society.”
“Exactly. I will say this, and I know I speak on behalf of Kate and even Marianne as well – it is far easier for us to think highly of the friends we had before our auspicious marriages, more so than those who may think well of us now, but would never have spared us the slightest notice before our recent elevations. I am sure there will be a great many new friends clamoring for Harriet’s attention now that she is an heiress, and is it not right that those who held her in high esteem when she was only a parlor boarder must be given a special place in her heart?”
“Very well,” Lady Catherine conceded. “I shall endeavor to remain civil to Mrs. Weston. She is to return to Surrey again in the morning, anyhow. It is only that I wish to claim the greater share of Harriet’s heart for myself, you see. All those years we were apart, how often I thought of Harriet, wondering how she was, what she was doing, and I do not know if she gave me any thought at all. What if she resents me for giving her up, and is merely too kind and gentle to say so?”
“I suppose that must be a good thing,” Elizabeth replied. “I daresay you would not wish to hear it.”
“No indeed. Anne thought so poorly of me, for all her father’s attempts to turn her against me when she was young. If Harriet were to find me wanting as well, I daresay it would break my heart.”
“You must look to my philosophy,” Elizabeth said with a gentle smile for her aunt. “Think of the past only as it gives you pleasure. With Harriet I think you must look to the future instead. She is full young yet, and you might have many more years to enjoy her company before she starts a family of her own. Make the most of your time and do not look back. I think she shall love you better for it.”
“I hope you are right. We have had a fine time, you know, these past few days. I think she shall do very well indeed, and I shall not part with her for all the world, now that I have her back. It is a second chance for me to be the mother I had wanted to be for Anne.”
“Speaking of motherhood,” Elizabeth said with a sly look at Lady Catherine. “I have a little present for you, in the sense that you are about to hear what only my husband, Kate, and Rebecca know. I, too, am to become a mother.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes lit with joy. “Finally! I was beginning to wonder if I would be obliged to give you the same speech I gave Kate the night before her wedding. It will not do, for little Julia to inherit Pemberley as well as Rosings! You must take care to have a son. I have a book I shall send to you when I return to Rosings, full of instructions on how to ensure the child is a male. You must do the opposite of everything it says, for I employed all of these methods myself when I was with child, and we all know how that turned out. Yes, you must give Fitzwilliam a son, and another as soon as you can manage it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, I remember hearing your opinions on the matter when I first met you at Rosings.”
Lady Catherine fixed her with a hard look. “I shall never forget your impertinence, asking whether I had borne a son myself! I thought you were the height of impertinence, and I begin to think the same now!”
Elizabeth smirked at her aunt, knowing she was not entirely serious, for Lady Catherine had developed a sense of humor about Elizabeth’s frequent impudence, and it had become rather an inside joke between the two of them to reminisce about the many offenses they had given one another before their reconciliation.
“How Mr. Collins scolded me for making such a speech,” Elizabeth laughed.
Lady Catherine chuckled as well. “God rest his soul. He was a rather amusing little toad, in some respects, at least.”
Her mirth spent, Elizabeth grew serious. Perhaps it was wrong to laugh about it, given the circumstances. Lady Catherine had played a monumental role in Mr. Collins’s demise, after all, and all because he had apparently favored the match between herself and William, which even Lady Catherine had now come to rejoice in. In that respect, perhaps his death was all for naught, as well as the subsequent events leading to Jane’s ultimate downward spiral. “Well,” she sighed. “Perhaps we had better return to the others. Richard and Marianne must have arrived by now, and I am sure the servants are wanting to get in and finish the table.”
“Of course, of course” Lady Catherine replied, seeming also to regret the mention of Mr. Collins. “Only tell me this, my dea
r – when you said your announcement was a present, am I to understand your mother does not yet know?”
Elizabeth gave her a knowing look as they walked back to the drawing room. Lady Catherine’s dislike of Mrs. Bennet was no secret in the family; though the two women had come to an understanding between them during the planning of Kate and Robert’s wedding, it had lasted no longer than the wedding breakfast.
“I cannot regret that my mother will be the last to know,” Elizabeth replied. “It is her own fault she will not be present tonight when the announcement is made, given her recent behavior – I will spare you the particulars.”
“Vexing child, I would rather you did not! Pray tell me, what mischief is she up to now? If you do not tell me, I am sure I need only ask Rebecca.”
“Then I shall let her be the one to tell it, for she certainly has a knack for the grisly details. I would by no means suspend any pleasure of hers.”
***
Harriet muddled through the dinner in a state of wonderment at all her new family. The food was some of the finest she had ever had, and the company certainly finer than any she had ever dreamed she would enjoy. Her mother, seated at her side, was eager to dominate the greater share of Harriet’s attention, with effusive praise of Harriet to her brother, the Earl of Matlock. Harriet still could not credit that she was the niece of an Earl, and she thought him very kind, though naturally an intimidating sort of man. His wife was surprisingly young, only a few years older than herself, just as elegant as her mother and perhaps a little more gregarious. Lady Margaret dominated the conversation, although she was relentlessly inquisitive about Harriet’s former life.
She knew she must become accustomed to receiving so much attention, and not be alarmed at the addresses of her own family, as it was only natural that her history should arouse such curiosity. However, there was little she could say of her youth that was not rather embarrassing, for what had she to boast of, other than the few rather minimal accomplishments and limited acquaintances of a parlor boarder?
There was one of their party whom Harriet was especially keen to know better, her cousin Miss Darcy. When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, after Harriet got over the embarrassment of actually asking why the gentlemen remained behind, in the dining room, she sought out Miss Darcy directly.
Her cousin offered her a warm smile, beseeching Harriet to call her by her Christian name. “You are family, after all – you needn’t address everyone so formally.”
“Georgiana,” Harriet said, feeling the awkwardness of the name on her tongue.
“Georgie, if you like,” the girl replied. “That is what all the younger people in the family call me. Tell me, Harriet, have you been enjoying London?”
“Oh, it is wonderful,” Harriet replied. “We have done so much, in so short a space of time! I cannot remember when I have ever experienced so much excitement. But of course, I lived much more simply in Highbury. I never dreamed I should ever even see London for myself, much less with a family, and a very grand one at that. I wake up every morning expecting to have dreamt it all, but here I am, still a girl with parents, at last.” She giggled nervously, hoping for some sign that her new cousin did not think her a simpleton.
“I suppose it must be very overpowering for one not used to a large family,” Georgiana replied. “In truth, though I have grown up with all my family, we were not so often together until recently. It is my first season out in society, so I suppose it is something we shall experience together, and I know there are a great many balls and parties planned for us. I am rather nervous about it at times, and yet when I think of how much I once longed for the hustle and bustle of London society, how lonely I was before my brother married, I suppose it is much better this way.”
“I think I see what you mean,” Harriet replied cautiously. “Your brother’s wife is very lively; it must be so much fun to live with her. But how strange, that this is all new to you, as well. You all seem so perfectly at ease together, I should never have guessed that you have not always been this way.”
Georgiana responded with a rueful smile. “I am glad you think so. I am sure there is nothing we would not do for one another, and it brings me so much comfort to know that.”
“Oh Georgie,” Harriet said, giving a little squeal of happiness as she squeezed her cousin’s hands. “I still feel as though I am in a dream – such a big, happy family – I could almost burst with excitement. How very elegant everybody is, and so civil! And so many young ladies so near our age. At Mrs. Goddard’s school, I was the oldest pupil by several years, and though the younger girls were very dear, I have been longing for friends my own age. There were a couple of girls in the village, Abigail and Amelia Martin, who were very kind, but they lived at Abbey Mill Farm and I did not see them very often – they moved away last autumn, and now I scarcely get a letter from them! But then Miss Woodhouse took notice of me, and I made some very fine new friends in the village – of course, none so grand as all this. Only think, to have so many friends my own age – how much we shall have to talk about!”
“Abbey Mill Farm,” Georgiana repeated, a curious look on her face. “Lizzy’s family estate in Hertfordshire passed to a Mr. Martin this past autumn, and I believe Abbey Mill Farm sounds rather like the name of his previous home – it would make sense, as he was acquainted with Mr. Knightley. Could it be the very same Mr. Martin?”
“But that is most astonishing,” Harriet cried, belatedly realizing how very loudly she had spoken. Blushing, she lowered her voice as she continued, “Yes, Abigail and Amelia have a brother, Mr. Robert Martin. I believe he rather fancied me at one time – that is, he once sent me a proposal of marriage – a very fine letter, I think – I showed it to Miss Woodhouse, and she said it was a very good sort of letter, but of course it must be refused.”
Georgiana drew closer, her countenance full of interest, and though Harriet begged her cousin not to breathe a word of it to her mother, she was delighted that they should become confidantes already.
“I shan’t mention it to Lady Catherine,” Georgiana said, “I swear it. Only think of it, you might have been introduced to us as a cousin to Lizzy twice over, had you accepted Mr. Martin! But I think it just as well you did not, for then you could not be here to keep me company during our first season together – Mr. Martin should not have let Lady Catherine bring you into the family and stay in London, for I understand he likes it very much in Hertfordshire. He came to Pemberley for Christmas, as he is Lizzy’s long-lost cousin and William thinks very well of him, but he stayed only a week, for he was most anxious to return to Longbourn – that’s the estate he inherited – for he had a great many improvements planned for the place. Lizzy and Mary are prodigiously proud of him, for they say he is a better master than even their father was. Mary had a letter from his sisters only yesterday, and what do you think, he is to be married to one of their neighbors, Miss Maria Lucas, I believe.”
Harriet faltered for a moment, but was resolved to keep her countenance. Mr. Robert Martin had inherited a fine estate in the country, and now he was to be married, not six months after proposing to her! She knew it ought not bother her, for Georgiana was certainly right – her own elevation was a fine thing indeed, and could never have been possible if she had acted against Miss Woodhouse’s advice and accepted Mr. Martin, but that he could have forgotten her in favor of another so quickly rather stung.
Georgiana began to sense that she had said too much, and gave Harriet an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Only think of what fine gentlemen you shall meet here in London, Cousin Harriet. And of course, there shall be more to your new life than beaux. It shall be a grand adventure for both of us. Pray do not let my news upset you. It was thoughtless of me to speak so candidly.”
“No, do not trouble yourself. I am certain I should have heard of it eventually, for I wrote to Abigail and Amelia day before yesterday, and they will surely mention their brother when they make their reply. I am glad to hear of it from a fri
end such as yourself. Certainly you are quite right,” Harriet said, though not very convincingly. “There is more for me here in London than that.”
She glanced nervously over at her mother, fearful of having been overheard, but Lady Catherine was lamenting to her nephews, who had just entered the room, that her parson in Kent had resigned; she was quite put out about it!
A moment later, Harriet and Georgiana were approached by Mrs. Sutton, Harriet’s sister by marriage, with whom Harriet had not yet had the opportunity to converse, beyond a civil greeting. “Do forgive me for interrupting, only I could not help but overhear your observation, a moment ago, upon the delights of so much female companionship, and I was moved to come and speak with you, as it has been much on my mind at present. I, too, have been reveling in the society of so many fashionable young women my own age; I think it the finest thing in the world. Unfortunately my husband, your brother, was not able to accompany me to Town, due to the demands of his estate in Scotland, but it is a great comfort to have so many female relations whose society I might enjoy. Georgiana and I have long been friends, is that not so, my dear?”
“Oh, yes, of course,” Georgiana agreed.
“Yes, her brother Mr. Darcy has long been the dearest friend of my own brother, Charles, who is lately gone to Italy. I have long admired your dear cousin as one of the most accomplished young ladies of my acquaintance. How you excel at absolutely everything, dear Georgiana! If you have not yet had the opportunity to hear her play on the pianoforte, Harriet, perhaps you will assist me in importuning her to play, later in the evening, for I have rarely heard anybody play so beautifully, though I have endeavored to apply myself as best I can to the instrument. Do you play, Harriet?”