A Companion
For Miss Darcy
Ellen Carstairs
© Ellen Carstairs 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person or incident is entirely coincidental.
This novel uses British English spellings and punctuation.
Chapter One
On a fine day in early September, Mr Darcy was occupying himself in the drawing-room of his London home by arranging a gift for his sister on the console table. She had expressed a liking for a pair of gloves the day before, and so he had secretly bought them for her. It brought him great pleasure to be able to please her, for she was very dear to him. Now that his parents were dead, she was the only remaining close family he had and he was a devoted brother. She was in the music room at the moment, and the sound of the pianoforte drifted into the drawing-room. He was just feeling that all was well with the world when there came a peremptory rap on the front door. His spirits plummeted. He suddenly remembered that his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had threatened to call. A look of distaste crossed his handsome countenance. His finely-shaped lips curled and his dark brows frowned, giving his brown eyes a disdainful expression. He knew why she had come, for she had written to him the previous week, saying he must find a new companion for his sister.
Georgiana will be sixteen in a few months’ time and she must have a companion, his aunt had written. It is inconceivable that Miss Darcy of Pemberley should be without such a mark of her status. It will not do, Fitzwilliam. You must attend to the matter immediately.
He had been tempted to reply that he could manage his own affairs very well, and request that his aunt minded her own business, but good manners had prevailed. He had replied courteously, telling her that the matter was already in hand and that she should not worry about it.
But this had not suited his aunt, who was bored and therefore expected immediate action. Since none had been forthcoming she had taken it upon herself to interfere, and she had sent him the details of three supremely suitable ladies by return of post. At the end of her letter, she had told him that she would be visiting London shortly and would call on him at the earliest opportunity to discuss the matter. And now here she was, rapping at the front door with her cane in an imperious manner, and she would soon be in the drawing-room.
He gave an inward groan. All thoughts of an agreeable afternoon vanished. The dread of an hour or two being harangued, bullied and lectured took their place, for Lady Catherine was a forceful woman and she liked to have her own way.
He picked up the gloves and put them away in the table’s elegant drawer. He would give them to his sister when they were alone, so that he could watch the smile spread over her face and then receive her pretty thanks without being interrupted by his aunt.
He closed the drawer quietly, just before he heard the noise of the front door being opened. Then the voice of Lady Catherine rent the air. The sound of the pianoforte receded into the background as his aunt’s dominating personality made itself felt. He heard her footsteps crossing the marble floor, and the tap of her cane. She sprayed commands left, right and centre, in the way his faithful hound sprayed cascades of water when shaking himself after a dip in the Pemberley lake.
‘Those flowers are wilting, see to them at once,’ she commanded. ‘I see the rug has not been mended. I distinctly remember bringing it to your attention when I was here last. It should have been attended to immediately. That vase is not straight. Have you no eye for detail? There is dust on the statue of Zeus. Such a thing would not be tolerated at Rosings.’
His butler’s patient voice responded politely to these comments, to be met with a snort of contempt from Lady Catherine. There was a swish of silk and then the sound of the drawing-room door opening. Mr Darcy steeled himself for the miserable afternoon he would be forced to endure and made a bow as his aunt entered the room.
‘There you are, Darcy,’ she said, prompting him to think Where else would I be?
But he responded politely, enquiring after her journey.
‘The roads are a disgrace,’ she said in a queenly fashion. ‘I have already written to the Prime Minister complaining, although he will not do anything about it. He was useless as a boy and he is useless now. I have written to his mother telling her so. I do not know what the country is coming to. I had to wait a quarter of an hour at the coaching inn before my horses were changed. A quarter of an hour! I said to the innkeeper that such a thing would not be tolerated in Kent. He wrung his hands and bowed and scraped, but he could offer me no reason for the delay. He promised things would be better on my return journey but I set no store by it. He had a greasy apron and I dare say he will not keep his promise.’ Then, suddenly changing tack, she said, ‘How are you, Nephew?’
‘Well, I thank you, Aunt.’
She scrutinised him.
‘You do not look well to me. You look out of spirits. You are in need of beef broth. My cook has an excellent recipe. I will have it sent to your kitchen.’
Mr Darcy forebore to say that his spirits had been excellent before her arrival and invited her to sit down. She looked dubiously at the exquisite sofas and then ran her eyes over the sumptuously-upholstered chairs before deigning to sit on a majestic seat by the window. She arranged her voluminous skirts. They matched the fashions of her youth rather than the elegant and deceptively simple fashions of the day. Then she turned to him with a stately air and asked, ‘Well, what have you to say for yourself?’
Mr Darcy was in the middle of seating himself opposite her. He had just flicked up the tails of his blue tailcoat and settled himself. However, he had not had a chance to arrange his long legs, which were encased in cream breeches and Hessian boots. He paused in the middle of crossing his legs at the ankle and raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was used to his aunt’s ways, but this was unusually brusque, even for her.
‘I take it you are referring to my sister’s companion?’ he asked, once he had settled himself comfortably.
‘To what else would I be referring?’ she asked. ‘You have not found one, I suppose. Men are useless at such things. Fortunately, I am supremely good at them. It is wonderful how many families I have been the means of supplying with governesses and companions. I am always glad to get a young person well placed. When finding a companion for Miss Darcy, of course, a young person will not suit. A lady of mature years is called for: one who will guide her through her duties as she turns from a delightful girl into a dutiful young lady. I have three excellent ladies in mind. The first, Miss Wetherby, was a companion to Lady Isabel Stone, before Lady Isabel’s excellent marriage.’
Mr Darcy gave a slight grimace as he thought of Miss Wetherby. She was a hatchet-faced woman who was rigid upon points of etiquette. She would certainly make sure that Georgiana negotiated all the pitfalls of polite society without making a single blunder. But Miss Wetherby had no sense of humour. He had never seen her smile, let alone laugh, and his sister would be miserable.
‘Miss Wetherby would not suit,’ he said.
‘Really, Fitzwilliam, you are most obstructive. Miss Wetherby would suit very well. However, let it not be said that I cannot be flexible. A more flexible person than myself would be difficult to imagine.’
A wholly inappropriate image popped into Mr Darcy’s head, of a contortionist he had seen at a circus. He imagined his aunt sudde
nly rising to her feet and wrapping one leg around the back of her head. His eyes sparkled with mirth and he was forced to cover his laughter with a cough.
‘Mme de Blanc would be another excellent choice. She comes from the very best family. She is related to the French monarchy on her mother’s side. If not for the disgraceful events in France, she would be established in her own household with an array of servants at her beck and call. As it is, she must earn her living. A terrible misfortune for her, but a wonderful opportunity for us. Georgiana will be able to perfect her French accent.’
Mr Darcy thought of Mme de Blanc. He felt very sorry for her, but he could not allow her to become his sister’s companion. She alternated between bitterness and despair, and he did not want Georgiana to be in such uncongenial company.
‘No,’ he said.
‘No?’ demanded Lady Catherine, raising her eyebrows. ‘Am I to be given no reason why my excellent suggestion is met with such disdain?’
‘No, aunt, you are not,’ replied Mr Darcy calmly. He,too, had a strong character and he did not intend to let his aunt brow-beat him. ‘You said you had three candidates?’
Lady Catherine stared at him for a moment, but when it became clear he was not going to reconsider Mme de Blanc, she allowed her eyebrows to drop back to their normal level. She folded her hands in her lap.
‘That is so. As you have dismissed Miss Wetherby and Mme de Blanc then it will have to be Miss Yarborough. The Carlisles speak very highly of her, and Mrs Carlisle is a lady of excellent taste. If she is pleased, then Miss Yarborough must be a worthy candidate. Miss Yarborough is an excellent musician, I understand. Ordinarily, the Carlisles would not think of letting her go. But Miss Carlisle is betrothed to a French Count, and she needs help to perfect her French accent. Miss Yarborough speaks fluent French, but unfortunately she speaks it with an English accent.’
‘Perhaps Mme de Blanc would suit Miss Carlisle,’ said Mr Darcy.
Lady Catherine looked surprised, and then she nodded.
‘That is an excellent thought. I will visit the Carlisles at once and tell them they must employ her. It will be not be inconvenient for me, since I must visit them anyway and tell them you have engaged Miss Yarborough.’
She stood up, looking very pleased with herself. She liked nothing better than organising other people’s lives, and here was a chance for her to organise Mme de Blanc as well as Mrs Carlisle.
Mr Darcy stood up politely. He was relieved that his aunt did not intend to stay any longer. He had been worried she would stay all afternoon. However, he did not want his aunt to interfere in his affairs and he made this plain.
‘I will tell them myself, once I have satisfied myself that Miss Yarborough is suitable,’ he said firmly. He saw that she was about to protest and he forestalled her by saying, ‘We cannot be too careful where Miss Darcy of Pemberley is concerned.’
Lady Catherine’s pride worked in his favour. She thought very highly of the Darcy family and the Darcy name. She also thought very highly of Pemberley. By appealing to her pride he had found the weak chink in her dictatorial armour. She drew herself up to her full height.
‘Indeed we cannot,’ she said. ‘The most scrupulous care must be taken where Miss Darcy of Pemberley is concerned. I will say that you are considering Miss Yarborough, and that you will engage her if you are satisfied she will suit.’
Lady Catherine once again cast a sweeping glance around the room.
‘Your servants are very lax, Fitzwilliam. I see a smudge on the mirror. You must not let them descend into carelessness and sloth. I will speak to your housekeeper before I leave.’
Mr Darcy knew it would be useless to protest, and indeed he did not care enough about the matter to make the effort. Where his sister was concerned he would make an effort and defy his aunt at every turn, if he thought it necessary. But he let Lady Catherine have her way on smaller things. A woman such as Lady Catherine must be allowed to have her way at least some of the time, if she were to be manageable. Mr Darcy knew just when and where to defer to her, so that he could carry the day on more important matters.
He made his aunt a bow and she made her majestic exit. A moment later he heard her chivvying the butler and commanding the poor man to send for the housekeeper. Then the door was shut and Mr Darcy turned his attention back to his own matters.
He must find a companion for his sister, it was true, and if Miss Yarborough were suitable he had no objection to employing her. However, he would not allow himself to be bullied into it if he was not satisfied. He had employed a seemingly sensible, middle-aged woman before, and that had led to disaster. He thought he would rather employ someone younger this time, nearer his sister in age. He wanted Georgiana to be happy. He thought that, if she had some light-hearted companionship, it would help her to recover from the events of the summer. Also, he felt she might be able to confide in someone nearer her own age.
He shook his head as he thought of all the things he required of a companion, because he knew it would be next to impossible to find them. He wanted someone who was old enough to be sensible and yet not too much older than his sister, so that the two could become friends. He wanted a companion who was light-hearted and cheerful company, and yet at the same time who would not be too frivolous, for he did not want anyone who would lead his sister astray. He also wanted a young lady of good birth – a gentleman’s daughter – but not from too high a family, because someone from too high a family would spend their time lamenting what they had lost, instead of being grateful for what they had. And he wanted someone who would be proud to work for the Darcys and yet at the same time not fawn on them.
It was a difficult task indeed. But perhaps, after all, Miss Yarborough would turn out to be such a paragon. In the meantime, he had his own matters to attend to. He waited for his aunt to leave the house and then went through to his study, where he had some letters to write.
Some forty minutes later, a second visitor was announced. This time it was a more welcome person, his friend Charles Bingley. The two men had met at their expensive school and they had become friends. Mr Darcy was the more experienced of the two and he put his experience of the world at his friend’s disposal. Mr Bingley was grateful for it, and in return he brought his easy-going nature to the friendship. Mr Darcy was inclined to be haughty and he was not good at mixing with strangers, whereas Mr Bingley was cheerful and outgoing. In this way they both gained something from their friendship.
‘I say, Darcy, I have had a piece of good luck,’ said Mr Bingley, as he sat down in one of the leather-buttoned chairs by the window. ‘You remember me telling you that I intended to rent a country estate?’
Mr Darcy said that he remembered.
‘I have heard of a likely property in Hertfordshire, in the small town of Meryton. The house is called Netherfield Park. The place is being let because the owner has run up debts and has had to retrench. Will you come with me to look at it? I would like your advice.’
‘Yes, Bingley. Of course I will. I must confess I am grateful for the distraction.’
‘Oh?’ Mr Bingley looked at his friend in surprise. ‘Is anything wrong?’
‘No, nothing wrong, except my aunt is badgering me to find another companion for my sister.’
He did not explain why he had dismissed the last companion. In fact, it had been a very disturbing experience. Just a few weeks before, his sister had almost eloped with George Wickham. She had been encouraged by her companion, Mrs Younge. It turned out that Mrs Younge had known Mr Wickham and the two of them had planned it all along. He had dismissed Mrs Younge, of course, and that was why Georgiana was now in need of another companion.
No one knew the real reason for Mrs Younge’s dismissal. He did not want anyone to know of his sister’s foiled elopement, and so he had said that Mrs Younge did not suit.
‘Lady Catherine can be very forceful,’ said Mr Bingley.
He had met Lady Catherine and he was frankly terrified of her. Lady Catherine had
quickly discovered that he was not married. She had suggested no less than half a dozen suitable brides within ten minutes of meeting him, and she had introduced him to three of them. They had been positively frightful young ladies, and he had only extricated himself with great difficulty. Poor Mr Bingley had vowed never to accompany Mr Darcy to Kent again!
‘She can indeed,’ agreed Mr Darcy.
‘But there is no hurry to find a companion for Miss Darcy, surely? It is better to take your time and make sure you find someone she likes.’
‘Exactly what I think,’ said Mr Darcy. ‘I have given instructions for Miss Yarborough’s references to be examined and I can do no more for the present, so I am very glad to have this chance of coming to Hertfordshire with you. Let us leave without delay.’
‘That suits me,’ said Mr Bingley. ‘The sooner I have an estate of my own I will be well pleased. Caroline is giving me no rest. She tells me I must have one, and so for the sake of peace and quiet, as well as my own sake, I would like to find somewhere as soon as possible.’
At the mention of Mr Bingley’s sister, Caroline, some awkwardness crept into the room. Miss Caroline Bingley had made it plain she would be happy to become Mrs Darcy, but Mr Darcy had no intention of making her his wife. Miss Bingley could be cruel in her humour, and she fawned on him in a way he did not like. If he married her, she would expect him to give endless parties at his Derbyshire estate, so that she could queen it over the neighbourhood. She would also expect him to give balls in London, so that she could display her costly clothes and flaunt the Darcy jewels. It would be a nightmare to have her as his wife.
Mr Bingley coughed and Mr Darcy was roused from his thoughts. He gave his friend a compassionate look. He saw Mr Bingley cross his legs in a fidgety manner, for Mr Bingley knew that Caroline could be a nuisance and he was often made uncomfortable by her social climbing. But she was his sister and so he made allowances for her.
A Companion For Miss Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 1