Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Page 8
Reluctantly, Darcy sat at his desk and reached for pen and paper. He would not put his advice and reservations in a letter – such matters would best be discussed face to face. He dipped his pen and began to write. Firm strokes, conveying his hope that Bingley would be free to join him at Pemberley. The following passages, however, were more difficult to write, but no less necessary. It took him a great deal longer to find a civil but unequivocal way to state that, on this occasion, the invitation was not extended to either of his sisters.
* * * *
“So, Miss Bennet, have you heard from your relations recently?” Darcy asked conversationally later on that day over tea and coffee, earning a glance of surprise from the young lady in question.
He could not wonder at it – he had never asked anything of the sort before. There was no surprise, merely slight discomfort in Georgiana’s glance. She must have understood his reasons. Needless to say, he was more than a little uncomfortable with the entire business himself, and even more so at having to resort to subterfuge. Disguise of any sort was his abhorrence, but this time it could not be helped. For Bingley’s sake, he felt he had to garner as much intelligence as possible.
“I thank you for asking. Yes, I have, from my aunt in town and also from my eldest sister,” Miss Bennet supplied.
“It was perhaps remiss of me not to encourage you to speak more often of your loved ones. I was uncertain whether or not it might give you pain,” Darcy offered quietly. This much was true, regardless of his ulterior motive in prompting her today.
“You are very thoughtful. No, it does not pain me, not so much. What should you wish to know?”
“Whatever you would like to tell us,” Darcy replied for both, rightly surmising that Georgiana would not wish to have her say in this particular conversation.
“I miss them all a great deal, as you would imagine. My father most acutely of course. He was very kind to me and we were a good match for each other’s natures. Both inclined to laugh at follies and inconsistencies, make sport of each other and the world around us. It is from him that I have acquired my voracious reading habits. I think, given half a chance, he would have spent every moment in the library. It was the only place in the house where he could be assured of peace and quiet. My two youngest sisters were, I fear, somewhat of a trial on his patience. They are very boisterous. They live with my aunt and uncle now in Meryton, a little market town within easy distance from Longbourn, as does my mother. My uncle and aunt Phillips were very kind to take them in. As for myself and my eldest sister, we were to make a home with our other aunt and uncle in town. My uncle Gardiner had graciously offered to have all six of us live with them, but my mother was most unwilling to abandon everything familiar. She had lived all her life in or near Meryton. So just the pair of us, my sister Jane and I, accepted my uncle Gardiner’s invitation.”
“Might I ask why you did not remain with them? Were you not happy there?”
“Only an ungrateful wretch would have been otherwise. I love them dearly and they made us both feel very welcome. They are the essence of kindness and amiability. But this is precisely why I was loath to take advantage, if I could help it. They have a large family of their own. They raised every possible objection against my seeking a position, but I knew myself in the right and in dire need of an occupation to take my mind off… everything, so I would not relent.”
“For my own sake, I am thrilled,” Georgiana interjected. “But you must long to see them. We ought to make arrangements, Brother.”
“Aye, we must. We are likely to spend several months in town after Easter and you would be able to visit very often, but you should go to them sooner than that.”
“Thank you, that would be most welcome. I do long to see them, Jane especially. We are very close, even though our temperaments are so dissimilar.”
“Dissimilar? How so?”
“My sister, Mr Darcy, is an angel. I, on the other hand, am not. I have inherited too much of my father’s nature to bear other people’s faults and follies with good grace, but Jane has no such encumbrance. She has the kindest heart and the sweetest disposition. She sees the best in everyone and makes allowances for every shortcoming, even the most patently selfish act. Such is her way and she would not be cajoled out of it. And believe me, Sir, it was not for want of trying.”
Taken aback, Darcy failed to smile at her little sally. She might as well have described Bingley. His friend was equally disposed to think well of the world and everybody in it, much to his own amusement alternating with concern – and, at times, downright vexation.
So perhaps her sister had not set out to use Bingley ill. Nevertheless, with such low connections she was not the way for his friend to distance himself from his own origins in trade. And if the mother was indeed a low, vulgar sort… Miss Bingley’s views might not be fully trusted, but it had not escaped Darcy’s notice that, in her account of her relations, Miss Bennet had not a good word to say of her mother.
The young lady’s low voice broke through his disquieting ruminations.
“I cannot help fretting for my sister,” she resumed, her manner altered. Gone was the easy playfulness, to be replaced by a cautious, tentative air.
“Why is that?” Darcy prompted, feeling conspicuous and gauche in the extreme. It had never been his way to involve himself into other people’s intimate concerns, not least because he would not have welcomed anyone’s intrusion either.
Miss Bennet’s manner was still cautious when she answered.
“A trusting nature might have its own rewards, but is not devoid of dangers. That of finding one’s trust abused, for instance.”
“And do you fear this for your sister?”
“There is always that risk. Especially in matters of the heart. My father used to tease us that it lends distinction to a young woman, amongst her friends, to be crossed in love now and again, but I hope this questionable honour is not bestowed upon my sister. Some would recover easily from the experience. I fear she would not.”
Darcy cleared his voice and reluctantly pressed on.
“Have you reason to believe that your sister has formed a risky attachment?”
The direct question gave her pause.
“I believe I have spoken out of turn. Jane has not given me the liberty to discuss such matters. My sole excuse is my concern for her. Neither of us have ever had more than personal attributes to recommend us, and now it is even plainer to see that she has nothing to offer but devotion. And sadly in most cases this is not enough,” she added, her voice so low and strained that he could barely hear her.
Darcy knew not what reply to make to that.
Even if he wished to, it was not his place to reassure her that if devotion was enough for any man, that man would certainly be Bingley. Names had not been mentioned and, by every standard of civil conversation, they should not be, although by now Darcy reasonably assumed her well informed of the goings-on in Hertfordshire. She might have imagined that, just as her sister shared her thoughts with her, Bingley might have written to him about his intentions, or lack thereof. And, while he sought to learn more about the lady, she was doing the same as regards the gentleman – sound him out, or at least warn him indirectly against trifling with her sister’s affections.
Darcy drained his cup of coffee, heartily wishing for no part in the entire sorry business and regretting that he had already sent the letter asking Bingley to come to Pemberley. What was he to say to him when he arrived? Doubtlessly the match was not in his friend’s best interest. But who would relish such a damnably uncomfortable conversation, or having another’s misery on one’s conscience?
He held his peace, as another equally unwelcome thought occurred to him. If Bingley were indeed to marry in that quarter, how would it sit on him, Georgiana and indeed Miss Bennet, to have the new Mrs Bingley as a rightful guest in the house where her sister was a paid companion? Or, heaven forfend, their unsavoury relations? For everybody’s comfort, Miss Bennet might have to b
e released from her employment. Her sister might ask her to relinquish it anyway and live with her, if they were so close. Georgiana would not like it much. As for himself, he was not looking forward to recommencing the search for a lady’s companion either. And all this trouble and conundrums just because Bingley’s attorney had chanced to recommend him an estate in Hertfordshire!
Their daily get-together for refreshment, in the house or elsewhere, had always been a pleasure, but not so today. Georgiana was still ill at ease when Darcy excused himself and left the parlour in reasonably high dudgeon with his reckless friend and Bingley’s attorney, and as for Miss Bennet, she was very sombre and subdued.
He could only hope that everyone’s disposition would improve before too long. That it was not so he learned an hour later, when he strode into the library in search of a map detailing the boundaries of some tenant farms and found Miss Bennet standing by a bookcase, a leather-bound volume in her hands. She turned with a start at his sudden entrance and, yet again, Darcy was shocked into mortified compassion to see that she had been crying. His first impulse was to excuse himself and leave her but, vainly searching for a handkerchief, the young lady voiced a swift apology and protest.
“Forgive me, Mr Darcy. I did not seek to ban you from your own library,” she tremulously laughed in an endeavour to make light of her own discomfort as she dabbed at her cheeks with her fingertips, unable to find her handkerchief.
Entirely at a loss as to what he was to say on the occasion, he slowly closed the small distance between them and silently offered her his own. With a word of thanks, she took it and dried her tears, then gave another conscious laugh.
“I thank you. I should not wish to bespatter your book. It deserves better,” she said and closed it, then returned it to its place with one last stroke along the well-worn spine.
Darcy’s eyes followed the movement and rested on the faded gilt lettering. Gulliver’s Travels, it said, surprisingly. Not the sort of book to extract tears.
“May I ask why it distressed you so?” he asked softly.
“It did not. In fact, it was a comfort. I found it here a fair while ago and… I peruse it often. It was my father’s favourite. He used to read it to us, me and Jane, when we were little. I often thought it would have pleased him greatly to live in the land of horses, far from noisy humans and their quest for empty glitter.” She dropped a hurried curtsy. “If you would excuse me,” she whispered and was gone before he could find the right words of comfort.
It quite escaped his notice that she forgot to return the handkerchief. In truth, he did not spare another thought to the square of fine lawn bearing his initials. And even if he did, he could not possibly have known that henceforth, in the dark hours of the night, it would often be brought out of a lacquered box and examined with a heavy heart, or held against a youthful but very solemn cheek, in the privacy of a small bedchamber.
CHAPTER 8
The fate of his handkerchief might have eluded him, but it was not long until Darcy began to see an alteration in Miss Bennet’s manner – subtle changes he had not noticed before. It was not that she avoided him, as such. They mostly met at breakfast and at dinner anyway, which could not be avoided, and occasionally the three of them would share a morning walk, a carriage ride or a mid-day cup of tea. But the easy flow of conversation over dinner had given way to oddly strained exchanges, the long debates over books were fast becoming a thing of the past and the habit of indulging in several games of chess in the evening was all but broken. And on the whole, when daily routine brought them together or they chanced to cross paths in the house, he could not help noting the return of that careful reserve she had displayed in Lady Stretton’s employ, and he was sorry for it.
He could not tell what might have caused the alteration. Perhaps her sister had informed her of Miss Bingley’s vile insinuations and she sought to avoid all such suspicion by keeping her distance. The notion made him curse under his breath. One day he would have to impress upon Bingley that his vexing sister ought to be kept in check. She would never be the mistress of this household, and the sooner she came to grasp that fact, the better. Miss Bingley should not be allowed to instil her poison from a distance, to ruin Miss Bennet’s comfort and likewise his own.
It vexed him greatly that she might have been to blame for depriving him of the enjoyment of a rewarding conversation or a challenging game of chess, and equally so for making his sister’s companion tread on eggshells in a house where she had previously felt nearly as carefree as in her former home.
Thankfully, at least Georgiana was seemingly unaffected by the entire business. Whenever he could hear the young ladies chatting in some adjoining chamber, he was pleased to note that their interactions still carried the same playful cheerfulness he had been so glad to witness in the early days of his return to Pemberley. It was only in his presence that the reserve returned, and Darcy strongly felt that something should be done about it.
Yet he could not determine what, precisely. A frank discussion about Miss Bingley’s vitriolic letter was out of the question. It would have been deeply mortifying to both, and probably unseemly. Besides, Miss Bennet might still be in ignorance of it and her cautious reserve due to an altogether different reason, so bringing up Miss Bingley’s vile remarks would only worsen matters.
The only solution he could see was to act as though nothing had happened. Still seek to engage her in conversation at dinner and afterwards in the drawing room. Continue to suggest a game of chess, without taking umbrage at her frequent refusal. Propose regular walks and outings to Lambton and the environs. Show himself in sympathy with her position as a vulnerable young woman cast all too soon upon an uncaring and sometimes openly malicious world. And generally make her feel she was a valued addition to his household, and that he knew his duty to her, as well as to all the others entrusted to his care. And then contentment might be restored again.
* * * *
“So are you ready to go? I believe I can hear the carriage,” Darcy observed, and his two companions eagerly assented.
He had planned another outing for the day, a drive to Lambton to sample the delights of the prosperous market town, and especially those of Messrs Howe and Crompton’s, a small but well-stocked booksellers’.
Two footmen attended the young ladies with their pelisses and bonnets while the third fetched Darcy’s hat, gloves and greatcoat, but when the butler opened the large oak doors, it was not to inform them that their carriage was ready and waiting, but to announce two unexpected visitors.
“Mr and Mrs Bingley to see you, Sir,” the man offered with a rather rigid bow – poor old Burton was getting on in years.
But this time his butler’s age and stiffening back could not hold Darcy’s attention for a moment. His shocked glance shot past him to find Bingley, looking vaguely contrite but grinning from ear to ear nonetheless, and alongside him a very beautiful young woman, whose other notable feature was the deepest blush.
Darcy had no opportunity to examine her for longer. Miss Bennet gasped at the announcement, her hand flying to her chest, and no sooner had the visitors crossed the threshold than she ran to clasp her sister in a fierce embrace.
“Oh, Lizzy!” Darcy heard Mrs Bingley earnestly exclaim. “Will you ever forgive me for marrying without you as my bridesmaid – without you there, even? But Charles – Mr Bingley – so insisted. And Mamma as well, and– ”
The rest was lost in a flurry of endearments and an exchange of hurried kisses, and besides Bingley’s voice would have drowned everything out anyway.
“Well, Darcy, I fervently hope you do not mind my availing myself of your kind invitation in rather different circumstances than you expected. Pray allow me to introduce my wife. Jane, this is my best friend Darcy, who has rescued me from more scrapes than I could count, and Miss Darcy, his sister.”
His hand clasped his wife’s and she stepped forward to exchange curtsies and bows with their hosts, then Bingley beamed at Elizabeth.
She replied in kind, then turned to the Darcys.
“I must beg your pardon for waylaying your guests before they could even greet you properly,” she smiled, but the apology was in earnest.
With a flourish of her hand, Georgiana indicated that none was needed and Darcy spoke up, finding his voice at last:
“Not at all. Bingley, Mrs Bingley, you are most welcome. Pray come in.”
“But I see you were just preparing to go out,” his friend observed.
“No matter. It was but a short trip to Lambton that can easily be left for another day. Do join us in the drawing room.”
“Unless you and Lizzy would prefer to take a stroll through the gardens, Mrs Bingley, while you are still dressed for the outdoors?” Georgiana suggested. “The chrysanthemums are a sight to see, as is the foliage of the maples and the acacias.”
None of those present doubted that her enthusiasm for autumn colours was anything but a pretext for allowing the sisters the opportunity for private conversation. Affectionate glances were cast her way from every quarter, but Mrs Bingley was the first to put her appreciation into words.
“That is very thoughtful, Miss Darcy. I should like that very much indeed.”
With a curtsy to the others, the sisters made their way towards the garden arm in arm and, once divested of his greatcoat, Darcy smiled warmly to his sister.
“In the same spirit, dearest, would you allow me the wicked pleasure of grilling Bingley in my study for a while?”
“I expected nothing less,” she smiled back. “You can find me in the music room when you are quite finished – that is, Mr Bingley, if my brother allows you to escape before dinnertime,” she added and skipped gaily off, leaving the others to make their way into the study.