A Private Performance

by Helen Halstead

  “In truth, I should be delighted.”

  As they entered, Emily finished playing. Turner had met the Edgeley girls several times. Elizabeth watched the greeting between him and Anna, his normal gentlemanlike manner, and her usual calm.

  Anna seated herself at the harp. Her eyes half closed, she seemed to lean into the music itself. Her usually pallid complexion was glowing. Her music resonated, sank to a murmur, and ceased.

  Her audience seemed to hold its breath before applauding. Elizabeth ran over to her.

  “Miss Edgeley, that was quite the loveliest thing I have ever heard.”

  “Thank you,” said Anna. Already her face was losing its colour. In spite of herself, her eyes sought Edward Turner’s and she smiled briefly at his compliments. He turned to reply to a question from Darcy. Elizabeth noted the colour of Anna’s eyes, which had seemed to deepen as she played, fading again to cool grey.

  ‘She is retreating again,’ thought Elizabeth. She said: “Will you come and play for us again? We are expecting guests next week; among them are two ladies whose performance upon the pianoforte is formidable.”

  “More so than that of the present company? This I cannot believe,” said Mr. Turner.

  “Believe it you must, sir. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst draw forth all the dash that the instrument affords.”

  “What of your sister, Miss Catherine Bennet? Does she play?”

  “Kitty was somewhat delicate as a child. My mother felt the exertion of sitting at the instrument would tax her strength,” said Elizabeth, inwardly smiling at her mother’s oft-repeated excuse.

  During refreshments, Edward Turner talked with Miss Edgeley. Elizabeth watched them from time to time. She laughed at her own thoughts. She would have suspected nothing if not for Anna’s small flare of anger, when she suspected Elizabeth of doubting Turner’s sincerity, as they walked by the lake. He was a lover of music, and Anna a performer of music worth loving. What a wonderful ending it might be. He was earnestly desiring Anna to play again. Emily looked at them furtively from time to time. Anna was all stillness; she had an evenness as smooth and unadorned as her simple stone-coloured gown.

  “Yes, I enjoyed the visit,” she was to say to Emily, in the privacy in their shared bed. “Pemberley is all superlatives. The house is splendid. Mr. Darcy is the epitome of the handsome gentleman, perfectly polite and good. Miss Darcy is the epitome of modesty, accomplishment and sweetness. They had everything but someone to make them laugh. So God sent them Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Anna, he must adore her, do you not think so?”

  “Why did you not ask him, if you feel you must know?”

  “Oh, Anna, why do you not long to get away from Greystead?” The only sound in the darkness was of Margaret or Janet turning in sleep. “I cannot bear the thought of another term there. Mrs. Darcy mentioned that she has written to a lady she knows who has a very wide acquaintance and may know of a situation for me. Her name is Lady Reerdon.”

  “Lady Reerdon? She sounds very grand.”

  “I hope …”

  “Emily, for what do you hope? Take care, my love. Guard your heart and govern your thoughts. If we can but find a family who will treat you with respect and pupils who will obey you, I will be content.”

  “Surely life has more for me than Greystead can offer. I must get away!”

  “I know.”

  “Anna, Mr. Turner is attentive to you.”

  “He has taken the trouble to speak to me of music; that is all. I do not wish to speak of him, dear. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Anna.”

  CHAPTER 17

  THE CARRIAGE REACHED THE TOP of the hill and stopped for a moment. Jane gasped. Across the little valley stood Pemberley House, bathed in the late morning sunshine. The lake and the park had all the natural beauty Elizabeth had described.

  “Oh, Lizzy,” she breathed, and Charles nodded in understanding.

  “Jane, my sweet,” said Caroline, “when you see the north front and inside the house—so delightful!”

  Jane recalled asking Elizabeth, when she became engaged to Darcy, how long she had been in love with him. Elizabeth had laughingly replied that it was since first seeing the beautiful grounds at Pemberley. Now Jane was ready to accept that these words were spoken only half in jest. The carriage crossed the bridge and pulled up at the steps, where their hosts waited to receive them. As they alighted, Mr. Hurst’s carriage pulled up behind them.

  There was time for a short rest in their rooms and for the ladies to perform the second toilette of the day before coming down, freshly gowned and coiffed, for luncheon.

  Mr. Hurst beamed towards the top of the table, then turned to his host.

  “Darcy, pray allow me to say how splendid it is to see Pemberley with a mistress.”

  “I thank you, Hurst. It is indeed.”

  Having exhausted his fund of flattery, Hurst added: “Might there be time for some fishing after luncheon?”

  Mrs. Hurst did not even show a flicker of irritation. She was too tired nowadays, although she looked forward eagerly to the birth of her first child, after which she might regain her figure and her pleasure in the society of the wide circle of their acquaintances.

  Leaving Bingley’s sisters to exclaim over Georgiana’s latest artistic efforts, Elizabeth disappeared out of doors with Jane and Kitty. Arms around each other’s waists, they strolled along the edge of the lake.

  “Lizzy,” said Jane, “words could not have prepared me for the beauty of Pemberley, or for its peacefulness.”

  “Indeed, yes. Once one is in the valley, the world is excluded. Even the estate workers’ cottages are behind the hill.”

  “You have lost your seclusion now.”

  “Dear, dear Jane. Dear Kitty, too. I delight in having you here. I think there is room enough for you.”

  They all giggled and, as one, turned to look back at the house.

  “It is a palace, or near enough to it,” said Jane.

  “It is, and I am the queen.”

  “In Lambton, she could not be more a queen if she were a duchess,” said Kitty. “Why are you laughing at me?”

  They turned and walked on.

  “I think Mary was mad not to come,” declared Kitty. “Lizzy, can you believe that she says she will not visit Pemberley until Mr. Darcy apologises. Mr. Darcy! Papa had such a good laugh. He says you will languish for her presence forever if that is the case.”

  “What a grim sentence,” said Elizabeth. “She wrote that she could not leave Mama in her uncertain health. Is our mother really suffering so from want of spirits?”

  “Not in the least!” cried Kitty. “Mama was desperate for Mary to come after I told her there was a frightfully ugly bachelor vicar in the district.”

  “Kitty!” Elizabeth remonstrated. “I trust you are not referring to Mr. Turner. He is not handsome, perhaps, but I will hear nothing against him.”

  “La! The only distinction I make is between handsome and hideous.”

  “Kitty, dearest,” said Jane gently, “a gentleman’s appearance is the least important aspect to be considered.”

  “Really?” said Kitty. “What a pity it is that your husbands are not ugly, or you might have proven your point. In any case, Mary has other fish to fry.” She smirked at Elizabeth’s expression of curiosity. “Mrs. Long had the most dreadful nephew staying with her. He’s preparing to take Holy Orders and he is utterly horrid. He has the most awful opinions on female dress and decorum and … his name is Mr. Brown.”

  “Mr. Brown? That really is unpardonable,” said Elizabeth.

  Kitty let go of her sister’s arm and pranced ahead of them. Turning, she tilted her little nose in the air, put her hands behind her back and adopted an expression of pained disapproval.

  “Miss Catherine,” she mimicked, “is it fitting for a young lady, such as yourself, to push forward her opinion in this company?”

  They all giggled.

  “On what weighty matter did y
ou dare to contribute your views, Kitty? Was it a question of doctrinal importance or your impassioned views on taxes?”

  “Lord, no, Lizzy! I said I thought it might rain.”

  “Kitty, you are become very bold!”

  Jane added, “Mary has put aside the gowns you sent her, and is back to her high necks.”

  “She gets into corners with Mr. Brown and they read sermons to each other. I suppose she thinks Mr. Brown will marry her.”

  “He departed with no mention of ever returning to Hertfordshire, but Mary appeared undismayed,” said Jane.

  “You may be sure I shall never marry a clergyman,” said Kitty, and both her sisters laughed merrily at the thought.

  They had reached the point where the stream flowed into the lake. A short distance away, the gentlemen could be seen at their sport.

  “Look, Mr. Hurst has caught a fish!” cried Kitty.

  “That will put him in a good mood at dinner,” said Jane.

  Mr. Hurst was wrestling manfully with a sizeable trout and brushed aside the attendance of the servant. As he reeled in his catch, he jerked the line too hard and the fish flopped against his coat, and slid down his trousers to his boots, where it hung for a moment. The sportsman could then be heard berating the poor attendant for his slowness.

  “Ugh!” said Kitty, wrinkling her nose. “How he shall smell!”

  “We shall not speak to him again until he has bathed,” said Elizabeth. “Have you seen enough of the men at their sport? I shall send their refreshments out into the garden.”

  They turned back to the house.

  “I imagine you have been much occupied, Lizzy, preparing for Miss Darcy’s coming out,” said Jane.

  “Indeed, yes. There has been more beating of carpets and airing of beds than I could have imagined, though I did order it myself. We have decorated anew the entire east wing, which has been in disuse these seventeen years, ever since the death of Lady Anne Darcy. I found the choosing of papers and curtains in London highly diverting, but the presence of the workmen and the constant questions of their foreman have disrupted my leisure sorrowfully.”

  “You do not look so very sad, Lizzy!” said Jane, giving her a kiss. “I imagine the greenhouse beds are filled to bursting.”

  “Indeed, they are. Tomorrow I shall take you on a tour of the produce beds in the kitchen garden and the greenhouses. We shall be prepared to feed all of Derbyshire, if need be.”

  Miss Bingley joined in the tour to view the new arrangements in the east wing. She knew not over which aspect to agonise more: the fact that ownership of these rooms had slipped through her fingers, or the fact that the improvements to them were so very successful.

  “Another Chinese room!” she trilled. “So light and interesting! How clever you are, Mrs. Darcy, to have known the patterns could look well with such delightfully old-fashioned beds.”

  “Most of the furniture in this part of the house has been at Pemberley since the first section was completed,” said Elizabeth. “Mr. Darcy and I could not bring ourselves to discard it.”

  “I declare I quite envy the people who will sleep here,” averred Caroline.

  “Choose whichever room you like best, Miss Bingley, and I will give orders for your things to be moved at once.”

  “You are so kind, Mrs. Darcy, but I would not dream of permitting such trouble on my account.”

  “I assure you, it is no trouble at all.”

  However, Miss Bingley felt that a certain prestige attached to the main guest rooms, and went on to explain that her envy was not so pressing as perhaps it had sounded.

  “Which is to be Lady Reerdon’s room, Lizzy?” asked Kitty.

  “Her ladyship will be in the main wing.” They returned to the landing above the main stairs and Elizabeth opened a door. The room glowed with a soft yellow light from the silk curtains, to the bed covers, to the roses.

  “Lizzy, those yellow roses are perfect, and to think I said it would look too plain.”

  “It is beautiful. I confess to a certain feeling of satisfaction.”

  “I can assure you that Lady Reerdon will be utterly delighted,” said Caroline, sounding for all the world like the lady’s closest friend.

  “Do you think so? I do so want her to be happy here. She has been very good to me.”

  “You have so many new friends, Lizzy,” sighed Kitty.

  “Most of them are my husband’s friends, Kitty, and that is not altogether the same thing.”

  “I heard Mr. Darcy tell Papa that half of his friends are in love with you.”

  “I am quite sure he said no such thing, Kitty. I wish you would amend your habit of exaggerating.”

  “It was something very like,” muttered Kitty.

  “In any case, although success with the gentlemen might seem of paramount importance to you, Kitty, believe me, pleasing the ladies is far more crucial in society.”

  “What of Lady Englebury, Lizzy? When will she pay a visit to Pemberley?”

  “Never, I should think. This party would not suit her taste in the least,” said Elizabeth. She smiled wryly, thinking that her ladyship’s presence at Pemberley would be equally unpalatable to Darcy’s taste.

  “Besides,” she added, aloud, “The marchioness seldom leaves her country house in the summer.”

  “Deepdene,” breathed Caroline. “What a noble seat that is! One scarcely wonders that the marquess rarely stirs from his hearth.”

  “Indeed, one cannot wonder at him. You must be weary after your journey. Do you desire to rest before dinner?” asked Elizabeth. The ladies readily assented to this, with Miss Bingley exclaiming over her neglect of her sister, who had been lying down, all alone, for an hour.

  Elizabeth went to spend a few minutes in her sitting room. She curled up with a book on the wide window ledge. The sky was clouding over and, looking down to the lawns by the lake, she could see the gentlemen returning to the house. A servant was carrying a laden basket around to the kitchen. There would be fish for dinner and, no doubt, some of cook’s specialty, fish pie, tomorrow, when Lord and Lady Reerdon were expected and Colonel Fitzwilliam was to come, bringing a friend from his regiment, Captain Westcombe.

  Darcy looked up, unconsciously scanning the upper windows. She waved and the three men raised their hats.

  “Lord, Louisa,” Hurst was to say to his wife, “there she sat, in a window, for all the world like a child of twelve.”

  “I wish that I could contemplate accommodating myself upon a window sill,” she replied, stroking her bulging stomach. “Why did you bring me here, Mr. Hurst, when I am too weary to enjoy myself?”

  “’Twas because you wanted to come, as I recollect.”

  “I did not wish to remain all alone at your mother’s house.”

  “Am I to give up my summer’s fishing at Pemberley?” he asked, in honest outrage.

  CHAPTER 18

  KITTY’S FEELINGS WERE ALL THAT they should be on driving in a carriage with a coronet upon the door. She sat very straight, next to a real earl, the very first of the species that she had encountered. Lord Reerdon, it must be said, was not made of such stuff as to delight a maiden’s heart. His looks were middling, his conversation dull, and his manners had a quality that, were he not of noble birth, she may have been tempted to call gawkish. She looked across at Lady Reerdon. The countess, for all her grace and elegance, was an old lady, more than forty years of age, although perhaps she could not help that. Catching her look, Lady Reerdon smiled kindly and Kitty felt her spirits rise. What an adventure! She looked out on the view, more steep and rocky with every moment.

  At last the carriage pulled up in a little spot open to the sun and sheltered from the wind. Blankets and cushions had been spread upon the grass and a servant was lifting a chair down from the cart.

  The other carriages rolled up and, after much exclaiming over the charms of the place, everyone went off, in knots of three or four, to explore. Georgiana asked Kitty to accompany her on a short climb t
o better see the view. Georgiana was arm in arm with her cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. How much less plain he looked in his regimentals! Why did he not always wear them? His friend, Captain Westcombe, offered Kitty his arm to accompany them, his sleeve that alluring red, his tassels gleaming in the sun. Kitty looked from this temptation to the path, which seemed very steep. She knew not how to say she feared the exertion of it.

  “Thank you kindly, sir,” she said prettily. “I would delight in such a walk, but I have set my heart upon gathering some of these flowers from amongst the rocks.”

  “May I help you?” he asked, gallantly.

  “Indeed, you may.”

  After a few moments, he said: “Miss Darcy and her cousin are very great friends.”

  “Lord, yes. I believe there is no-one higher in her estimation.”

  “You are in her confidence, then?”

  Kitty smiled up at him, her head on one side, her smile an unconscious imitation of Elizabeth’s, but with an effect of utter naivety.

  “Of course I am,” she said, laughing up into his earnest brown eyes.

  She suffered a stab of guilt on seeing Miss Edgeley standing to one side with Mr. Turner.

  “I promised my sister to be attentive to the Miss Edgeleys and I quite forgot.” The captain in attendance, she tripped over to the pair and invited them to sit with her and take a glass of wine, while they waited for the more adventurous of the party to descend from their climb.

  Miss Bingley lounged gracefully against a rock, softened with cushions, and looked about her. She could not imagine for what purpose Mrs. Darcy had invited the Miss Edgeleys. She could scarce keep her countenance when she first set eyes on the dowdy creatures. She looked on satirically as Miss Emily sat on the blanket at Lady Reerdon’s feet.

  Mr. Turner had come back from a little stroll among the rocks with Miss Edgeley. Kitty and Captain Westcombe had joined them. ‘One can trust Miss Kitty to fasten upon a penniless officer, the moment she sees him,’ she thought. Turner was fetching cushions for the two ladies.