by Jane Odiwe
"I must go, Tom," Georgiana muttered, aware that the feelings of the day before had not dissipated between them and were feeling ever stronger. "I will write to you if I can, I promise, as a sister might write to her brother. Good-bye."
Georgiana opened the door and ran down the corridor back the way she had come, her mind racing with everything Tom had said. Despite everything she had said to him and even though she had rebuffed him, he had shown that his interest in her was undiminished. On entering the drawing room she saw nothing, thought nothing about the gaiety of the scene. Her happiness came from inside. With glowing cheeks and bright eyes she recollected her last moments with Tom and everything he had said. His expression, his manner, and especially his looks had been such as she could only interpret one way. Perhaps she was wrong to be so happy, but she could not help herself. Tom, she decided, must truly be in love with her!
Chapter 22
The approach to Kendal over moorland and heath-clad hills was slower than expected. Besides their own carriage and that of the Bingleys and their guests, Elizabeth did not see any other travellers on the road apart from a long train of coal carts. The district was remote, the landscape wild and beautiful, with mountains and peaks topped with snow seeming to soar into the heavens or disappear under veils of thunderous cloud. Elizabeth was longing for another stop in order to stretch her legs and was just wondering if undertaking such an arduous journey had been a sensible decision when at last she observed Kendal, white and smoking in the dark vale before them. As they travelled nearer, the outline of a ruinous castle was just distinguishable through the gloom on the top of a hill, and at the entrance to the town the river Kent gushed and foamed down a weir. Beyond the fortress remains, Elizabeth could just see a half-hidden church obscured by trees, grey fells gloaming in the distance. It was a scene to cheer them all.
Crossing the bridge brought the existence and bustle of habitation into view. Here were the townspeople going about their everyday lives in the same way that Elizabeth had observed as they passed through hamlets and villages by the score on their journey. Signs of society were here, men going about their business, women and children out shopping, and the sight of a stagecoach, tourists alighting laden with bandboxes and trunks. The orders were soon given to stop the carriage on Highgate at an inn. The weary party clambered down, each glad to get out and savour the welcome smell of hot food wafting under their noses.
Mr Darcy ushered them all inside. The landlord was expecting them and showed the party into an upstairs room that looked out from ancient windows half hanging over the street. Everyone spoke at once; they were full of the journey and of the spectacular views that no artist, engraver, or poet had ever before done true justice. They were all famished and before long a meal of roast beef with all the trimmings was set before them.
Having soon satisfied her appetite, Elizabeth felt in need of some exercise and a chance to alleviate her headache, so she rose to make her way back downstairs. Mr Darcy was just insisting that he should accompany her when the landlord suddenly halted him on a matter of some importance concerning the horses. Lizzy was pleased to gain her independence, slipping out before he or anyone else could stop her. It was good to be able to walk about after sitting for so long in the carriage, and she strolled along the street, finding much interest in the old timbered buildings of the town. She decided to walk as far as the market cross and stopped to look in the draper's window at the selection of ribbon and lace displayed in the window. After walking on in perusal of the milliner's, where she found a bonnet or two worth a second look, she turned to make her way back again and was just passing the doorway of another inn when some people all talking and laughing in a very animated fashion walked straight into her without even looking where they were going. When she had recovered herself enough to speak, for she had almost been knocked over, she could have keeled over again in shock.
"Lizzy, good Lord, Lizzy! What are you doing here?" asked a voice belonging to a very smartly dressed young woman whom she instantly recognised. "Look, Wickie, look who it is... isn't this a good joke?"
Elizabeth's youngest sister, Lydia, lately married, after first scandalously eloping with George Wickham, was standing before her laughing out loud as if she had just heard some hysterical jape.
Elizabeth nodded towards Mr Wickham, who bowed obsequiously. "Mrs Darcy, what a great pleasure it is to see you, my dear sister. I trust you are well?"
"I am, thank you. I must admit, I am very surprised to see you," she said, also glancing at the couple standing next to them. There was something very familiar looking about the woman, but Elizabeth was certain she did not know her.
Lydia suddenly stopped laughing and put on her most serious if rather silly expression. "Mrs Darcy, may I present Mrs Younge and her friend and ours, Captain Farthing. Mrs Darcy is my elder sister and is married to Mr Darcy of Pemberley. He's the richest man in Derbyshire, isn't he, Lizzy?"
"How do you do?" said Elizabeth, ignoring Lydia's embarrassing comments. She was trying to remember why she instantly knew that the name of Mrs Younge was one she had heard before, but she could not for the life of her think where and under which circumstances.
Mrs Younge, a handsome looking woman with dark curls that peeped out around the sides of her bonnet, was well dressed if a little showy for Elizabeth's taste. She proffered her slim hand sheathed in York tan to Elizabeth, who took it. Mrs Younge immediately encased Elizabeth's with both of hers in a gesture that felt oddly inappropriate. "My dear Mrs Darcy, I have heard so much about you from your sister. I have longed to meet you!"
"I am pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am," Elizabeth returned before extracting her hand and turning toward her sister. "Are you here to tour the Lakes, Lydia? I must confess, I would not have thought walking over mountains was quite in your line of amusement."
"Lord, no... what an idea! We are on our way to stay with the colonel of the regiment. He has a country house at Hawkside and we shall be there for a month complete. Well, it will certainly save on our expenses, and darling Willie Arbuthnot has promised me balls and parties every night. My sweet Colonel says that a party is not a party without Mrs Wickham, and so you see, I am quite indispensable. Half the regiment is here... at least, the half that are not needed to protect our shores. Between you and me, it's the dull lot that is left behind: the ones that can't dance! La! The Lakes are full of off-duty officers, Lizzy, can you think of anything more diverting?"
Elizabeth did not think she should give her answer, as her sister would certainly not welcome her views if she knew them, so she smiled and said she must really be getting along.
"You are not staying at Hawkside, are you, Lizzy?" asked Lydia. Elizabeth imagined her sister would be most distressed to have Mr Darcy in the vicinity and was glad to give her reassurance.
"Oh, no, we will be near Winandermere, which I am sure you know is at least ten miles in the opposite direction. We are staying with Jane and Mr Bingley. Our aunt Gardiner is also of the party."
"Well, Lizzy," said Lydia with a theatrical sigh, "I am most put out, I assure you. What a pity we could not all enjoy a family reunion, but as you say, we will be so far apart. Kiss me, dearest sister, for I do not know when I shall ever see you again."
Elizabeth suffered her sister's exuberant embraces and protestations on parting with friends, but at last was made free to hurry back to the inn. Her experience had left her feeling quite flustered. If Mr Darcy found out that her sister and Wickham were in the vicinity, he would probably make a scene, she thought, ordering them out of Westmorland within a moment's notice. It would surely be better not to mention the fact that she had seen them, saying that she had taken a turn down the street and now felt fully recovered. This last sentiment was far from the truth; if anything, her headache was rather worse, but in the interests of peace and harmony, a small deviation from the complete truth was absolutely necessary.
Entering the passage at the foot of the stairs leading up to the dining room
, she was most relieved to see Jane, who had come in search of her and, before long, had told her the tale of her encounter, unburdening her worries and swearing her to secrecy.
"Oh, Lizzy, do not worry, I am sure we will not see them again. I feel sure you have done quite the right thing. Mr Darcy would be upset; you are merely thinking of him in all of this and being considerate of his feelings. It is a pity that we cannot know our sister and her husband better, but in any case, I daresay they should not have any time for us."
"No, indeed, I should say not. Lydia will be completely occupied in Hawkside by all accounts. I am relieved that we shall be on quite the other side of the district."
Mr Darcy appeared on the stairs at that moment, rejoicing and scolding his wife simultaneously for her safe return. She gave her excuses, soothing his irascible mood by diverting the conversation to that of a discussion of the scenes to be witnessed on the next leg of the journey, a favourite topic with her husband.
They were soon off again, relieved to know that their destination was not far off. Little over an hour passed before they found themselves winding through an undulating road over low promontories and spacious bays, which gradually rose over the hills. From here Elizabeth grasped Fitzwilliam's arm in excitement as, like a majestic river, Winandermere swept along in gentle beauty, the shores and hills as richly wooded as a pleasure ground. Here and there the land opened up through the landscape to the sight of some distant villa, a sign that society had even found its way to this remote corner of England. The weather was showery with sudden bursts of sunshine, the tops of distant mountains concealed in vapour ascending in grey columns. Hues of blue and purple enveloped the tops of hills, whilst lower down shades of olive and brown ranged over craggy heathland and wooded slopes, which appeared to fall into the water like soft green velvet cushions.
Bellingham Hall came into view at last, glimpsed through trees on a gentle eminence of the shore with the silver lake spreading before in all its translucent splendour, crowned beyond by the fells, which were half obscured in clouds. An Elizabethan mansion built around a medieval tower sat in state like a Tudor queen with her richly embroidered skirts displayed on either side in folds of green gardens, both formal and wild, studded with the gold of daffodils. Imposing, but on a much smaller scale than Pemberley, Elizabeth knew immediately that she would feel at home here amongst the Jacobean furniture, the smell of polished oak, and the magnificence of Spanish leather adorning the walls embossed with pomegranates, flowers, and exotic birds. There seemed to be an endless confusion of winding passages, unexpected rooms, and at least two courtyards to navigate, as well as a breathtakingly beautiful Chinese drawing room that was hand-painted with peonies and butterflies.
Mrs Reynolds and some of her staff had arrived from Pemberley a couple of days before to ensure that everything was ready for the parties arriving. The house felt warm and comfortable with fires lit in the grates and bowlfuls of flowers filling the air with the scent of spring. In their bedchamber Elizabeth exclaimed with excitement at all she could see within the house and without.
"Are you happy, Mrs Darcy?" Fitzwilliam enquired, catching hold of her as she moved about the room looking into cupboards and drawers, as animated as ever and showing no signs of fatigue from her journey.
Her expression told him all he needed to know as she allowed him to sweep her into his arms. The strength of his touch was most comforting and she allowed herself to sink into his embrace. Quite how she came at that very moment to remember exactly how she knew of Mrs Younge, Elizabeth could not later recall, but as Mr Darcy bent to kiss her, she had a sudden recollection of a letter her Aunt Gardiner had written just after all the scandalous business with Lydia had been tied up and in response to one she had sent after discovering that Mr Darcy had been at Lydia's wedding. Elizabeth had been ignorant at the time of the part Mr Darcy had played in bringing about the marriage and paying off Wickham, not only to induce him to marrying her foolish sister but also in paying off his debts. Mr Darcy had gone to London when he first learned of their elopement and Lizzy remembered her aunt's mention of him going first to call on Mrs Younge who had at one time been governess to Miss Darcy, and ultimately dismissed from her charge after it had been found that she assisted Wickham in the attempted elopement with Miss Darcy. When searching for Wickham and Lydia, Mr Darcy went immediately to Mrs Younge for intelligence of him as soon as he got to town. But it was two or three days before he could get from her what he wanted. She would not betray her trust without bribery and corruption, for she really did know where her friend was to be found. Did Lydia realise she was keeping company with someone who had such little integrity? Elizabeth would have liked to believe that her sister was completely innocent and naive, but she knew her sister too well to believe that she would not be aware that Mrs Younge's character was unsound and that she was a disreputable person, not at all to be trusted. But then, Lydia never had been a very good judge of character and, being seriously flawed in her own nature, was quite incapable of seeing defects in others. She would be attracted to Mrs Younge for her pretty face and vivacious manner; Lydia would scarcely look beyond her companion's physical attributes before deciding to become best friends. Thoughtless Lydia! Elizabeth did not know what to do, but resolved to speak to her aunt at the earliest opportunity. In the meantime, her husband was looking at her with a bemused expression.
"Am I interrupting your thoughts, Mrs Darcy?" he asked. "You seem rather pre-occupied."
"Oh, no, Fitzwilliam," she whispered, drawing closer to him, blocking all thoughts of the Wickhams and Mrs Younge from her mind. "I was just thinking how lucky I am to have a husband who brings me to witness the quiet delights of Westmorland instead of taking me to town. I am so very grateful to you, my darling; I could not have enjoyed myself half so much with all of London society, however diverting. To be here on our own and with those we love is heaven indeed. And to add to all of this, we have such beauty before us in every outlook."
The views through their windows made her catch her breath with wonder. Veils of white mist hung over the lake and on the mountains yonder where the peaks iced with snow almost disappeared into the vapour. The rain had stopped and the day was turning fine; wisps of blue sky lit up by shafts of sunlight descending through the clouds were reflected in the water like an ethereal looking glass.
"I cannot wait to explore everywhere," said Elizabeth. "Is it not a beautiful sight, Mr Darcy?"
"Indeed, I have rarely seen such beauty," answered her husband, gazing into her eyes and planting another kiss on her lips.
"I am talking of the view," she protested half-heartedly with a laugh as he pulled her yet closer.
"Oh, so am I, Mrs Darcy, so am I."
Chapter 23
A fortnight of sweet felicity soon passed in the company of those Elizabeth loved best. She was feeling strong, energetic, and in blooming good health. The walks around Winandermere exhilarated her, with every day bringing fresh discoveries. The problems and anxieties that she had encountered at Pemberley seemed to belong to a different world, as if none of it had happened. She had never felt so close to Fitzwilliam before and she refused to dwell on any unpleasant recollections that sometimes threatened to overwhelm her. Even Georgiana's spirits seemed lifted. To hear her laugh again was a joy to both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy.
"I wonder if I was not a little quick to decide that my plans for Georgiana were flawed," he said as they prepared to go down for breakfast one morning. "I think perhaps a little holiday was all that was required to put the spring back into her step. No doubt she has Hugh Calladine painted as a romantic hero in her mind's eye and sees his handsome face in every rock and twisted tree. There is nothing like absence to swell the pangs of love, or a romantic landscape to inspire affection, especially for a swain across the miles."
"I do not know about all that. Like you, I am pleased to see Georgiana in better spirits, but I am not convinced of it having to do with any romantic notions about her fiance. I have
to admit that you have me completely intrigued by what you say about absence swelling love's pangs. You sound quite the expert, Fitzwilliam," said Elizabeth, trying not to laugh at him but failing to do so. "Am I to believe that you have suffered such agonies of affliction yourself?"
"Mock me, Mrs Darcy, all you choose, but I will admit to having suffered love's pains when we were apart. For four months I did not see you after Bingley and I left Netherfield for town. I am not ashamed to tell you that you were never far from my thoughts."
"Ah, yes, but your pain was quite of your own making, was it not? And I am certain your suffering was more to do with the agony of acknowledging that you had feelings for me than to do with being apart. I believe you were vexed with yourself for falling in love with me; cross and quite angry that despite all your efforts to despise me, you could not help yourself."
"Mrs Darcy, you have a very cruel streak. Do not remind me of the man I was then. But you will not have it all your own way. Whatever may have been my misguided thoughts about the situation, I knew I was in love with you."
"Did you?"
"You know as much. I have told you before."
"Well, Mr Darcy, I wish to hear it again. When did you first realise that you were in love with me?"
"I cannot fix on the hour or the spot or the look or the words which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."
"Yes, you have said all that before... but there must have been a moment when you knew there was no escape from my allurements, that, as your aunt would say, I had drawn you in."