by Jann Rowland
“Your brother did acknowledge your talent,” said Elizabeth, “but it is not he who extoled it.”
Taken by surprised, Miss Darcy looked up, a question written on her brow.
“It was actually Miss Bingley, whom I met in Hertfordshire last autumn, who informed me of your abilities. She claims she has rarely heard something so exquisite.”
“But Miss Bingley has heard me play only once or twice,” protested Miss Darcy. “I hardly know her.”
Her suspicions confirmed, Elizabeth only smiled. “Then apparently you made a great impression on her those few times you played in her company.”
“Yes, let us do so,” added Anne. “Elizabeth has been teaching me, but her skill is so much greater than mine. If you are as skilled as this Miss Bingley claims, I would very much like to hear you.”
It was clear that Miss Darcy was less than eager to display her talents, but she assented and led them to the music room. Like all the other rooms Elizabeth had seen, it was decorated in colors and pieces of furniture which suggested graceful restraint, but in truth Elizabeth hardly noticed the room itself. Her attention was immediately caught by the large pianoforte which dominated the room, its fine lines and superior workmanship proclaiming it to be a truly beautiful piece.
“What a lovely pianoforte!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I have rarely seen its like.”
“Even better than my mother’s at Rosings?” asked Anne.
Elizabeth shot her an amused glance. “Even better than that. The one at Rosings is smaller and not nearly so fine.”
“It is an instrument my father purchased for my mother,” said Miss Darcy, her pleasure for the subject seeming to overcome her reticence. “William has promised to purchase a new pianoforte for our music room at Pemberley, as the one we have is old and difficult to keep in tune, but this one is still in good condition, and we will not part with it for sentimental reasons.”
“I can understand why,” replied Elizabeth.
Feeling a great deal of reverence, Elizabeth touched a few of the keys, noting the exquisite tone of the notes it produced. The keys were weighted perfectly, and the instrument gleamed as if every servant in the house had polished it all morning. For the first time—even more than the sight of the house and its rooms—Elizabeth realized just what it meant to be wealthy. If she had such a superior instrument on which to practice every day, she might even be induced to practice as much as she ought!
“Shall you play first, Georgiana?” asked Anne, fixing her cousin with a playful grin.
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “For if Miss Darcy is as skilled as I believe, she will outshine my poor efforts. Thus, I believe I must go first so that I may be given some degree of credit.”
The three ladies all laughed, even Miss Darcy allowing a short giggle. “I am sure your playing is lovely, Miss Bennet,” said she. “But if you wish to go first, I will happily cede the instrument to you.”
The three spent a lovely morning in the music room, alternating turns at the pianoforte, laughing and talking, and though Miss Darcy remained reticent, she became livelier as the morning progressed. It was interesting, Elizabeth decided, that the siblings were so different. Mr. Darcy was as confident a man as she had ever met, self-possessed and determined, while Miss Darcy was shy and retiring, and though she had begun to become more open with them, she was still quiet and spoke in soft tones.
“It is truly a beautiful instrument,” said Elizabeth, caressing the keys lovingly when she had finished playing a short Mozart piece. “If the one your brother is purchasing is anything compared to this, I can understand why you would be excited.”
“I believe it will be,” said Miss Darcy. “It is to be delivered this summer, and I cannot wait.” Miss Darcy turned to Anne. “You have been playing only a few weeks?”
“Yes,” said Anne, rolling her eyes. “My mother did not see fit to have me instructed. Elizabeth has been helping me.”
“I think in time Anne will become skilled,” said Elizabeth. “But I believe she requires the assistance of a master to realize her potential, as I am not much of a teacher.”
“But Miss Bennet,” said Miss Darcy, her earnestness evident in her gaze, “you play beautifully.”
“Not very beautifully at all!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I have not had the patience to practice as much as I ought.”
“I could not hear much of a deficiency.”
“Elizabeth does play well,” said Anne, “but it is clear which of you is more diligent in your practice.”
“Exactly!” said Elizabeth. “Miss Darcy plays with much more crispness and confidence than I do. You must own to that, Miss Darcy.”
“Perhaps,” said Miss Darcy, her tone noncommittal.
They left the pianoforte and sat on some nearby sofas, speaking of nothing of consequence. Miss Darcy spoke of her brother and how he was often out engaged in his business concerns, and of her cousin and his position in the regulars. In return, Elizabeth spoke of her family, and particularly what it was like growing up with four sisters.
“I cannot imagine it!” said Miss Darcy as Elizabeth related some anecdote. “I have always wished for a sister, but it is only William and me.”
“I, on the other hand, have always wished for a brother,” replied Elizabeth. “For you see, I have no one to tease me or to scare away potential suitors.”
“And of these you have many?” asked Anne.
“No, not a one,” replied Elizabeth, winking at Miss Darcy who giggled. She decided not to consider Mr. Collins a suitor, so objectionable and silly had been his attentions.
“You should both be grateful for what you have,” said Anne, eyeing them both, a mock severity in her tone and look. “I have no siblings. I believe I would have liked to have at least one.”
“Then we shall simply have to behave as if we are sisters,” said Elizabeth. “I would never wish for you to go without.”
The three laughed and moved to other topics. As Miss Darcy became more at ease, she became more open, though she was certainly not as lively as Lydia. Elizabeth participated in the conversation, but she also studied Miss Darcy, wondering at the differences in her beyond what she had been told. This business of Mr. Wickham was puzzling, as his own account was so different from Anne’s caution, and Miss Darcy was nothing like what he had told her.
And then a notion struck Elizabeth: here was an opportunity to understand a little more of the man. Though Mr. Wickham was Mr. Darcy’s age and had been, in his own words, a friend of his patron’s son, Elizabeth remembered Mr. Wickham’s tales of playing with Miss Darcy as a child. The possibility existed that Mr. Darcy had poisoned his sister against his former friend, but Elizabeth thought the man considered Mr. Wickham to be beneath his notice, and thus, would not take the trouble to sink his character in his sister’s eyes.
“Actually, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth during a lull in the conversation, “it has just entered my remembrance that I am acquainted with another who is known to you.”
Miss Darcy turned a quizzical look at Elizabeth. “Truly?”
“Yes. For you see, last autumn another man came to Meryton to join the regiment of militia there, and he was not only known to Mr. Darcy, but he claimed an acquaintance with you. Do you know Mr. Wickham?”
Whatever Elizabeth might have expected from her mention of Mr. Wickham, it was not what she was seeing. Miss Darcy’s eyes widened until the whites were easily visible and her face paled as translucent as a sheet. And when she spoke it was in a voice barely above a whisper.
“You know Mr. Wickham?”
“I do,” said Elizabeth, now uncertain as to the wisdom of mentioning the man’s name. “He is a member of the militia near my home, though I believe there is some talk of them decamping for the summer.”
“I . . . I . . .” stammered Miss Darcy and her eyes darted back between Elizabeth and Anne. Then she burst into tears and fled the room.
Shocked, Eli
zabeth watched her go, unable to make her limbs move in response to Miss Darcy’s sudden distress and flight. By her side, Anne was in similar straits, though she recovered more quickly.
“Why did you speak of Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth?” hissed Anne. “I informed you I did not think he was a good man.”
“I thought only to mention a common acquaintance,” protested Elizabeth. “I thought she would at least have been acquainted with him—there is no way I could have predicted a response such as this.”
Anne shook her head, only a little mollified. She rose and gestured for Elizabeth to follow her in a motion which reminded Elizabeth of Lady Catherine. “Let us see to my cousin. I apologize, Elizabeth—no, you could not have known how she would react. I hope, however, that you do not still consider this Mr. Wickham’s word to be gospel.”
“No, indeed,” replied Elizabeth, much subdued. “Much of what he told me seems suspect, and I no longer know what to think of him.”
“That is good,” said Anne, her voice harsh. “For we are likely to learn of something neither of us is aware, and I would ask you not to protest if Georgiana does share her knowledge of the man.”
“I would not dream of it,” replied Elizabeth.
They hurried up the stairs in silence and made their way to the door to Miss Darcy’s room. When they determined she was not in the sitting-room, Anne led Elizabeth through it to the door to her bedchamber, and Elizabeth was relieved to find it open. There on the bed, sobbing in despair, was Miss Darcy.
“Georgiana, dear, what is wrong?” asked Anne.
The girl only sobbed harder. They approached the bed, and Anne touched Miss Darcy, coaxing her to rise off the mattress and put her head against Anne’s shoulder, while Elizabeth moved her hand in soothing circles on the girl’s back. For some few moments they were silent, the friends recognizing her need to exhaust her tears before she could speak clearly. When she at last quieted, they continued to allow her to regain her composure before they began to press her for an explanation.
“Now, Georgiana,” said Anne, “shall you not explain why the mere mention of that man’s name has caused this storm of weeping?”
“You must both think me a silly girl.”
The words were spoken quietly, and Elizabeth, given how Miss Darcy was facing Anne, had to strain to hear her.
“We will only think you silly if you do not explain yourself.”
Miss Darcy heaved a great sigh. “I was hoping Miss Bennet would become a friend, but it is clear she knows. How can she be a friend to such a failure as I?”
“I assure you that I know nothing, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth. The girl dared a peek at her when Elizabeth moved around to face her. She pulled a chair close so that she was facing both Anne and Miss Darcy and continued in a gentle tone: “Anne mentioned that she thought Mr. Wickham was not a man to be trusted, but I did not listen to her, as I thought you must at least know him. I must have been mistaken, given your response.”
“He has told you of me?” asked Miss Darcy, her voice containing a desperate quality.
“Only that you were haughty and proud,” replied Elizabeth. “Given such blatant falsehoods, it must be nothing more than lies, as I can see you are naught but a sweet, shy girl.”
“Please tell us what he has done to you,” said Anne.
Another sigh was Miss Darcy’s reply, and she brooded for a moment before speaking. “I am . . . loath to speak of this, for I do not wish you to think ill of me.”
“If Mr. Wickham has offended you, then he is the one at fault,” said Elizabeth, speaking firmly to instill confidence in the girl. “We will not judge.”
Her words of encouragement seemed to affect Miss Darcy, and she nodded, though she was still hesitant. “Mr. Wickham is my brother’s childhood friend and the son of my father’s steward. He and William were close friends as children, but as they grew older, they grew apart. I was not aware of it, but Mr. Wickham developed some habits which my brother found distasteful, and after my father’s death, he broke all contact between them after Mr. Wickham received his inheritance from my father.”
Though Elizabeth was of mind to interrupt her, to see if Miss Darcy knew anything of the living Mr. Wickham claimed was denied him, she decided to keep her peace. It was obviously costing the girl much to make this communication, and Elizabeth would not make it any harder for her.
“Last summer, Mr. Wickham . . . became known to me again when he happened across my companion and me when we were visiting Ramsgate for a time. Knowing nothing of his character, I was happy to see him and gratified when he returned the sentiments.
“Mr. Wickham was charming and declared himself happy to see me, and soon I was seeing him every day. Then one day he claimed to love me and entreated me to accompany him to Gretna Green where we would be married.”
Elizabeth’s gasp was echoed by Anne. Miss Darcy only smiled, though it was a particularly mirthless expression.
“At first, I refused to even consider such a thing, and he continued to press me. My companion—a Mrs. Younge—at first required Mr. Wickham to leave, informing him it was not proper for him to propose in such a way to a girl who was underage and not attended by her guardian. But Mr. Wickham persisted, and Mrs. Younge was eventually persuaded to relent, to agree that his attentions were sincere. She said that though it was not usually done, if my love for Mr. Wickham was equally sincere, that I should follow my heart.”
“How dare she!” exclaimed Anne. “It is not for a companion to make such a determination. Her responsibility is to protect her charge. She should have written to your brother immediately.”
Miss Darcy nodded, a particularly desolate light in her eyes. “We discovered that there had been a previous connection between Mrs. Younge and Mr. Wickham and that his coming had been by design. Their object, you see, was my dowry. To my eternal shame, I was persuaded to agree, and we planned our departure for the following day.”
“But you did not,” said Elizabeth. “Given you are here and Mr. Wickham is a lieutenant in the militia, you must have thought better of it.”
The way she shook her head, the dejection in every line of her body broke Elizabeth’s heart. “You give me too much credit, Miss Bennet. In fact, not thirty minutes after we had made our plans, my brother arrived at the house. By chance he had decided to visit us, and in doing so, he saved me from ignominy and disgrace.
“Mrs. Younge was investigated, her references determined to be forgeries, and she was dismissed from her post. Mr. Wickham, though I am certain my brother wished to call him out, was warned never to speak of what had happened and escorted from the premises.”
“Oh, Miss Darcy,” said Elizabeth, her heart going out to this shy young girl. “How you must have suffered.”
But Miss Darcy only shook her head. “It is all of my own doing and quite deserved. I understand if you do not wish to be friendly with a . . . a . . . fallen woman such as I.”
She hid her face again in Anne’s shoulder, but Elizabeth was not about to allow her to hide.
“Of course not!” Miss Darcy looked up, startled by the vehemence in Elizabeth’s voice. “First, I must apologize for mentioning the man’s name. I should never have done so—I knew better, and I did so anyway, and for that I apologize.”
“It is nothing,” said Miss Darcy.
“It is something,” interjected Anne. “It is true Elizabeth should not have mentioned the man’s name, but it is also clear you must become accustomed to it, Georgiana. You cannot burst into tears every time Mr. Wickham’s name is mentioned.”
Though she appeared a little shamefaced, Miss Darcy readily agreed. Elizabeth nodded to Anne in gratitude.
“Of more importance,” continued Elizabeth, “is a man of Mr. Wickham’s years pursuing a young girl not out in society for nothing more than her dowry. That is reprehensible, Miss Darcy. I cannot tell you how disgusted I am with Mr. Wickham’s behavior.”
Georgiana start
ed and looked at Elizabeth with astonishment. “You do not blame me for it?”
“The greater part of the blame lies with Mr. Wickham and none other,” replied Elizabeth. “It is true that you should never have agreed to an elopement, but with this charming man and your faithless companion conspiring against you, it is not surprising that eventually you capitulated to their insistence.
“My advice is to use this as an opportunity to learn, but do not let it affect your life.” Elizabeth smiled. “You are a wonderful girl, one who was taken advantage of by a determined scoundrel. Do not let him affect your life. You have so much to live for—he does not deserve your tears.”
A heart felt expression of relief came over Miss Darcy, and when she opened her arms, Elizabeth willingly joined her in an embrace. “Thank you, Miss Bennet,” said Miss Darcy quietly. “I am thankful for your friendship.”
They sat there for some time giving support to Miss Darcy, until she decided she wished to rest before luncheon. Elizabeth and Anne willingly agreed, but before they left, Miss Darcy fixed Elizabeth with a hopeful grin.
“I hope . . . That is to say, I consider you a friend now, Miss Bennet. Might we not . . . dispense with the formalities?”
Delighted, Elizabeth agreed. “I would be very happy to, Georgiana. I am as happy to be your friend as I am to be Anne’s.”
Georgiana nodded her gratitude, and Elizabeth and Anne stepped from the room, making their way back down below stairs. It had been an eye-opening morning, and though Elizabeth was still not certain of just what Mr. Wickham was, she was now convinced that he had misrepresented himself grievously. The question was, what to do about it.
“It seems you have a talent for comforting young ladies of my family,” said Anne when they had returned to the sitting-room. “Perhaps we should employ you on a permanent basis.”
“I do not think it shows any great talent to simply listen to a young girl’s story and provide advice.”