by Jann Rowland
“Do you think you will find it in the north?”
“I cannot say. At the very least, a change in scene and society will not be unwelcome.”
“You may find yourself regretting such sentiments,” muttered Mrs. Bennet. When Elizabeth shot her a questioning look, Mrs. Bennet sighed. “Your aunt has always seemed like a hard woman to me, and she was particularly ungracious after I married your father. I wonder if your time with her will be pleasant.”
“At the very least, Uncle appears to be a good man, according to Papa.”
“Perhaps,” replied her mother, though it was clear she was doubtful.
“Well, it is decided regardless,” said Elizabeth. “Perhaps I shall have very great luck and meet a man I can tolerate. Once Papa passes on, there will be nothing for me here, so I had best try to find a home of my own.”
“You speak of Mr. Collins’s words to you at the wedding breakfast?”
Shocked, Elizabeth gaped at her mother. Mrs. Bennet only shook her head. “I overheard what that wretched man said to you, Lizzy, but you need not fear him.”
“He was very clear, Mama.”
“Perhaps he was,” said Mrs. Bennet, the disdain she felt for the man evident in her tone. “But I dare say that between Mary and myself, we will ensure you will always have a home at Longbourn if you choose.” When Elizabeth looked doubtful, Mrs. Bennet grasped her hand and squeezed it. “Can you imagine Mary standing by and allowing one of her sisters to be homeless when she had the power to prevent it?”
A giggle escaped Elizabeth’s lips, and she shook her head. No, Mary, pious as she was, would never allow such a thing, and now that Elizabeth thought of it, Mr. Collins was a weak-willed man and would no doubt defer to his wife, little though he might like it.
“To tell the truth,” said Mrs. Bennet with a laugh of her own, “I did not care for Mr. Collins either. There is something . . . most disconcerting about him. But he is the heir, and he is easily led, which will work to our advantage.”
Mother and daughter shared a laugh, and Elizabeth reflected that she had never felt so close to her mother before.
“I would not wish to discourage you from finding a husband, Lizzy,” said Mrs. Bennet, “but you should always remember that you will have a home at Longbourn, despite whatever foolish notions William Collins gets into his head. You should think on it no more.”
“Thank you, Mama,” said Elizabeth quietly. “I do not know if a husband awaits me in the north, but I shall do my best to find him if he exists.”
“Then that is all I ask.”
Then in a business-like manner, Mrs. Bennet arose and looked about the room. “It seems you have everything in hand, Lizzy. Please do not worry about your possessions, for I will see to it that Lydia does not take anything.”
And with that, Mrs. Bennet let herself out of the room, leaving a bemused Elizabeth behind, watching as she departed. Elizabeth had no memory of ever having such an exchange with her mother, and she was gratified that at the very least, they would part on amicable terms. They were very different people and there would undoubtedly still be times when they would vex each other, but she hoped that this was the start of a new relationship between them.
Elizabeth’s leave-taking with Jane was everything she had grown to expect, though only a few months before she would never have been able to fathom such coldness from her sister. She had been reluctant to meet with Jane at all, as she had no desire to be once again beset by the loss of the sister who had become a stranger to her.
“You were always the closest of sisters,” said Mrs. Bennet. “Though Jane has changed since her marriage, I believe you should not cease your attempts to bridge the distance. Besides, if you went away without any word to Jane, it would spawn gossip in the neighborhood.”
The schism between Jane and her family was, by now, quite well known in Meryton, so Elizabeth did not consider that to be a valid argument. But her mother was right—regardless of how Jane might choose to conduct herself, Elizabeth would not allow her own behavior to be dictated to her. However, the sight of her sister’s indifference might affect her, Elizabeth would not descend to Jane’s level.
Netherfield was much the same as Elizabeth had remembered it. In one of the last happy memories Elizabeth had of her sister only days before her wedding, she had declared her intention to avoid redecorating Netherfield. At the time, she was uncertain of her future husband’s intentions regarding the estate and did not wish to commit any money to such an endeavor until such time as their plans were set. As the rooms were all quite handsome, Elizabeth thought it a prudent decision, and, indeed, it seemed like Jane had kept to her resolution.
The Hursts were not present, having returned to Mr. Hurst’s family estate after the wedding. Elizabeth had heard talk of a long-awaited heir, which meant that they had not seen Mr. Bingley’s elder sister and her husband since that time. As Elizabeth found the woman nearly as intolerable as her sister and the husband naught but a drunkard, she did not repine the loss of their society. Thus, it was only Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and Miss Bingley who were there to receive them.
“Elizabeth!” exclaimed Charles when Elizabeth was shown into the room. After their marriage, he had insisted that she address him informally. “How do you do? I have heard from your father that you are bound for Derbyshire to visit with some relations.”
“I am, indeed, Charles,” said Elizabeth. Though her sister had changed into an almost unrecognizable person, at least Charles was still engaging and pleasant. “My Aunt and Uncle Drummond have invited me to visit, and I am happy to accept.”
“Your sister informed us that your uncle lives near the town of Lambton, Eliza,” said Caroline, interrupting her brother when he appeared like he was about to speak again. Elizabeth had never cared enough to ask her to stop using that moniker, little though she appreciated it. “We are quite familiar with the area. Many well-situated families live there, but I must own that I do not recall meeting anyone by the name ‘Drummond.’ What is the name of your uncle’s estate?”
“Indeed, we are a little familiar with the neighborhood,” said Charles. He glared at his sister, warning her to be quiet, but Caroline simply continued to regard Elizabeth, insolence in her air. “Of course, we do not know everyone.”
“But you are known to some?” asked Elizabeth, interested in spite of herself.
“My friend owns an estate situated not five miles from Lambton,” replied Charles. “We have been great friends since university, and a better man you cannot find.”
“Ah,” replied Elizabeth. “I remember you speaking of this Mr. Darcy on occasion.”
“I am sure you have.” Charles grinned. “I have often relied on Darcy for advice, as he is both intelligent and experienced in matters in which I am not. He would have joined us at Netherfield last fall had other matters requiring his attention not arisen.”
“Then I shall be happy to make his acquaintance. If you recommend him as a man worth knowing, then I am certain I cannot find him anything other than amiable.”
Charles beamed, but Caroline only snorted. “Perhaps you shall not make plans so quickly, Eliza. Mr. Darcy is very discriminating about those with whom he will associate. I doubt he moves in the same circles as your uncle.”
“Given the Drummonds’ proximity to Lambton, I have no doubt that Darcy is known to them,” said Charles. He directed another quelling glance at his sister. For her part, Caroline scowled, but she subsided.
“There is a possibility we might visit Pemberley this summer,” said Charles, turning back to Elizabeth.
“Then perhaps I shall see you there.” She turned to Jane who had been sitting and watching them all without saying a word. “I shall carry your greetings to Uncle and Aunt Drummond for you, Jane.”
“Of course,” replied Jane. She opened her mouth to say something further, but after a moment’s hesitation, she subsided, leaving whatever she had been about to say unsaid.
/> “Will you not anticipate a visit to Derbyshire?” said Elizabeth, trying to induce her sister to say something more. “Neither of us has gone since we were little girls.”
“I suppose Edward must be nearly grown now,” said Jane, with a diffidence Elizabeth was not certain was entirely due to her sister’s usual manner.
“I believe he is a year younger than I,” said Elizabeth.
Jane smiled, but it was one devoid of any warmth. Elizabeth wanted to shake her sister, to discover what had become of the woman she loved more than any other. By her side, Caroline regarded her with a hint of a satisfied smirk she reserved solely for Elizabeth. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to slap the haughty woman.
She made polite conversation with the Bingleys until the time came for her to depart, though to own the truth, her conversation was mostly with Charles. Jane and Caroline rarely had anything to say, and when they did, Jane was distant and Caroline was snide. Elizabeth bore their incivility with grace, never giving any indication that their manners hurt her. In Caroline’s case, they did not—she had learned to expect nothing more from the woman.
When at last fifteen minutes had passed, Elizabeth rose to depart.
“We wish you a safe journey and a pleasant stay with your uncle and aunt,” said Charles, as he rose with her. “If our footsteps should happen to take us to Derbyshire, we will be happy to see you there.”
“Thank you, Charles,” said Elizabeth. “I hope to see you there too.”
Then Elizabeth turned to Jane and wished her well, before turning to depart without waiting for Jane’s response. It was becoming too painful for Elizabeth to face her indifferent sister. She wished for nothing more than to be out of her company.
But she chanced one last look back at Jane before she quit the room. She was standing, watching Elizabeth as she left, but though Elizabeth thought she saw a glimmer of some remorse in Jane’s eyes, she did not speak a word. Then Caroline said something to her in a soft tone, and the two women turned and sat back down on the sofa.
With quick steps, Elizabeth moved through Netherfield, intent upon departing from the house as soon as could be arranged. The Bennet carriage was waiting for her in front of the entrance, and seeing her arrival, the footman opened the door for her to enter. She was just about to do so when she was halted by the sound of someone calling her name.
“Wait, please, Elizabeth!”
Though every instinct screamed for her to enter and depart without a second glance, Elizabeth turned and noted Charles’s quick approach. She stopped and waited for him, equal parts thankful and devastated that it was not Jane who had chased after her. The look of compassion he bestowed on her almost caused her to become undone.
“I wanted to again wish you a safe journey,” said he, as he stopped in front of her.
“Thank you, Charles,” said Elizabeth, not certain why he had thought it necessary. “As you know, my father is to journey with me. I am certain I shall be quite safe under his protection.”
“I am certain you will,” replied Charles. He hesitated for a moment, then in a manner typical to his behavior, said with an impulsive sort of eagerness. “Do not worry, Elizabeth. Jane will eventually return to what she was.”
Though surprised, Elizabeth directed a pleading look at her brother-in-law. “Do you know why she is acting this way?”
“I do not.”
Disappointment flooded through Elizabeth. She almost wished he had not said anything, for she had allowed her hopes to rise at his words.
“It is most unlike her,” said Charles, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I had thought she was eager to return to see you all, but then when we returned, everything seemed to change. I have asked her what is the matter, but she has only said she requires time to adjust.”
“Time to change into a proud woman who wants nothing to do with us,” said Elizabeth bitterly.
Charles shook his head. “As I said, I do not understand it, nor can I refute your words. But she loves you, Elizabeth. I am certain that much has not changed. Perhaps when you return you may speak with her and understand what has distressed her.”
“Or perhaps when you come to Derbyshire.”
“Yes, that is exactly it!” He paused and, grasping Elizabeth’s hand, he bowed over it. “Please enjoy yourself in the north, Elizabeth. And if you do happen to meet Darcy, please give him my best regards. I am certain everything will work out.”
Though Elizabeth was not nearly so confident as Charles was himself, she felt a little lighter in spirit. One could hardly remain cast down when faced with Charles’s eternal optimism and cheer.
Elizabeth stepped into the carriage with Charles’s help, and she began her journey back to Longbourn. Tomorrow she would leave the neighborhood, and who knew when she would return? But she was determined to do as he suggested. The sense of malaise she had been struggling under had not left her, but perhaps, with her new brother’s assistance, it had just grown a little lighter.
Pemberley was a grand old house, with centuries of history embedded in its very stones. A large, stately house built of the grey stone which was so plentiful in the vicinity, Pemberley had stood for centuries, a visible, imposing reminder of the stability of the Darcy heritage which had presided over the land for longer than the house had been in existence. It was often said that Pemberley compared favorably with many of the great houses in England, and this was a source of pride for the generations of its owners.
The current master of the estate was a young man, not yet eight and twenty, who had inherited far earlier than he would have expected due to his father’s early death. With both of his parents already passed on to their eternal reward, he was left as the guardian of his much younger sister, though he was grateful that his father had possessed the foresight to appoint his cousin Anthony Fitzwilliam to share in Georgiana’s care. There were times when Darcy did not know what he would have done without his cousin’s support.
It was Georgiana who was on Darcy’s mind at present. Like Darcy himself, Georgiana was much more comfortable at Pemberley than anywhere else in the world. But though she gave every indication of contentment, Darcy was not certain he could trust what his eyes were telling him.
It was Wickham’s fault. The very thought of the man was enough to fill Darcy with rage. He almost wished that he had allowed Fitzwilliam to follow through with his threat to call Wickham out and solve the problem once and for all.
“Why do you scowl so, William?”
The sound of his sister’s sweet voice pulled Darcy from his ruminations, and he realized he had allowed his dark thoughts to show on his face. A glance at Fitzwilliam told Darcy that his cousin knew exactly of what he had been thinking—Fitzwilliam was watching him, his own manner a little grim.
“There is no reason for you to concern yourself for me any longer,” said Georgiana when he did not immediately reply. “I am quite recovered.”
“I would hope so, dearest,” replied Fitzwilliam. “It has been eight months.”
“Believe me,” said she, so quietly that Darcy had difficulty hearing her, “I have more than learned my lesson.”
“I should hope so,” said Darcy. “We have discussed what you did wrong at length, so I see no need to belabor the issue. I just wish for you to return to what you were before.”
“I will. It will simply take time.” Then Georgiana smiled at him, a mischievous sort of expression he had not seen in far too long. “Truly, you might have accompanied Mr. Bingley to Hertfordshire. But I suppose any excuse to avoid Miss Bingley must be grasped with both hands.”
Fitzwilliam let loose a hearty guffaw, and Georgiana let out a little giggle at her own quip. Darcy supposed that he should take her to task for saying such a thing, though it was far truer than he would wish to reflect. In the end, however, he did not have the heart to censure her.
“I was happy to spend the autumn and winter with you, Georgiana,” said Darcy at length. “My feel
ings for Miss Bingley have nothing to do with the matter.”
“Neither do hers,” interjected Fitzwilliam, “though I caution you to ensure Miss Bingley does not hear you speak of any feelings for her.”
Fitzwilliam laughed again at the face Darcy made, but in the end, he decided that it would be best to simply ignore his cousin. Furthermore, it was nothing less than the truth, for Miss Bingley would take any perceived compliment he gave her and turn it into a reason to purchase her trousseau.
“I think . . .” Georgiana fell silent, and she appeared to be struggling with some great weight. In the end she sighed, then looked up at Darcy from behind long lashes. “I simply wish I had a friend.”
“And this you do not find in your brother or me?” asked Fitzwilliam. “Or my sisters, for that matter?”
Georgiana colored, but she did not back down. “You are all wonderful, of course. But it is not the same. I had difficulty making friends at school, and there are not a lot of young ladies my age in this district.”
“That is true,” said Darcy. Georgiana suffered from the same affliction as Darcy did himself, though in his case it was simple reticence and a desire to avoid being the focus of attention, rather than Georgiana’s sometimes crippling shyness.
“A friend with whom to share confidences would be lovely. But I know no one so well as to allow for such intimacy.
“Do not lose hope, Poppet,” said Fitzwilliam. “You are growing into a young lady, and confidence will come with experience. I have no doubt you will make more friends than you can count.”
“Thank you, Anthony,” replied Georgiana with a slight smile. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I believe I shall retire.”
Later, Darcy and his cousin retired to his study, and it was while they were lingering over glasses of port that a subject came up which had been on Darcy’s mind for some time.
“You know, Darcy, if you were to take a wife, Georgiana would have at least one friend.”
“If I chose the right woman. I sincerely wish it were that easy.”