‘Now Mr. Turner is a gentlemanlike man, but a clergyman never can be really fashionable. Indeed, who could be on an income of eight hundred pounds?’(Caroline was not desperate yet.)
Below them lay the road that led back to the haven of Pemberley. Above! She shuddered as she looked at the mass of rocks rearing up behind them. Had they travelled so far for the sake of a view of rocks? Lord Reerdon manfully threw himself down alongside her, and groaned as his hip met the unforgiving surface of a hidden rock.
“Have you abandoned the ascent, my lord?”
“Scrambling about is not my sort of thing at all.”
‘A different matter if he’d said “tumbling about,”’ she thought. ‘It would be something to be a countess, even if one’s consort were such a clot. Precedence over Mrs. Darcy would be pleasant. Yet what has he but a title and debts that are rumoured to swallow up his income before he receives it? The oddest thing was that one cannot help almost … liking him.’
Across the clearing, Caroline saw Jane, leaning back against her mound of cushions, her husband beside her.
“Dearest Jane, you are not tired, my love?” she called.
“No, I thank you, Caroline. Charles has made me a comfortable seat here.”
“Charles, dear, you are very good,” she cried, thinking: ‘I hope as much fuss is made of me, if ever I find myself in that condition.’
“Look! There’s Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy sitting on a rock. They have climbed high,” said Charles happily.
“Well, I wish they’d come down again,” replied his sister. “I’m starved.”
Moments later they could see the figures of Elizabeth and Darcy even higher. “They have reached the summit!” cried Bingley.
Darcy was poised, as though to catch her if she tripped, while Elizabeth skipped down from one rock to the next.
‘She could allow him to assist her more,’ Caroline thought. ‘The way she scampers about is …’
“Extraordinary. Is not Elizabeth extraordinary?” declared Charles.
“Precisely my own thought, dear Brother.”
Lord Reerdon eyed Miss Bingley’s profile as he drank his wine. Handsome girl, in a regal sort of way. Of course, Anne had her good points, delicate little thing and meek, too. He couldn’t stand a domineering woman. She would come with an excellent marriage portion, fifty thousand pounds. Perhaps he should have been firmer on having in writing that he would be Lady Catherine’s heir should Anne die first. Heavens, it was possible; the old girl was the imperishable sort. Still, a fellow would seem a cad to appear too pushing. Surely Lady Catherine would do the right thing by him.
Elizabeth looked down on their party from on high. “What tiny guests we have,” she said.
“They would do well to partake of something substantial with the wine.”
She put her hand on Darcy’s arm and nodded to a spot around the brow of the hill, out of view of their party. A shepherd and a farm girl were frolicking on the grass. He bowed deeply, she curtsied and, even from the distance, her gestures could be discerned as a parody of her betters behind the curve of the mount.
Darcy frowned. “That is Bentridge’s shepherd,” he said.
“Fitzwilliam,” she laughed, “are you offended?”
The girl below picked up the lunch basket and turned away, ready to trip back to the farmhouse. The boy leapt across the grass to her, caught her by the waist and spun her around to face him. She put on a show of reluctance, and they kissed.
“Now I am shocked!” said Elizabeth.
“If we spy upon them, my love, we are no better than they,” Darcy said.
She turned towards him, her head down.
“It was very wrong of me and I am most contrite.” Button by button, her eyes travelled up his waistcoat; then studied his cravat, his chin and lips, until she reached his eyes.
“Elizabeth, you are laughing at me.”
“Pray believe me that I would not do so if I could possibly help it.”
“I should very much like to kiss you.”
“Yes,” she said, laughing. “You would.” She darted off down to the path.
After luncheon, the plates were whisked out of sight by the footmen, and the party settled down for some music. Miss Emily had brought her lute.
“A charming instrument, Miss Emily,” said Miss Bingley.
“I thank you. It was a present from my sister.” She smiled fondly at Anna, knowing with what sacrifices Anna must have paid for it. Emily ran her fingers along the strings.
Elizabeth leant back against a tree, cushions at her back and Darcy beside her.
He took her hand in his and held it for a moment. She gave him one of her more cryptic smiles. Seeing them, Georgiana blushed, and glanced at her cousin Henry. Biting his lip, he studied the ground. As the music began to ripple around them, Elizabeth’s attention was caught by Georgiana’s tiny movement as her hand touched Henry’s for an instant. He gave her a self-deprecating smile and turned towards the musician. The girl studied him for a moment; then she turned her head aside.
Edward Turner lounged between Kitty and Anna Edgeley. He looked at Anna’s profile, framed by her old straw hat. Her keen intelligence and deep study must add to her appreciation of the music. The faint tint that lit her alabaster complexion was, no doubt, fuelled equally by love for the musician and for the music itself. Just then, her plain face glowed with that beauty that comes from within.
His eyes turned to Kitty. Leaning against her cushions, she was playing with the wildflowers in her lap. For a mad moment, he imagined playing with them too, his fingers touching hers. She wore a pretty green bonnet with a matching sash that emphasised the freshness of her white muslin gown. He thought what a pity it was that she had been denied the opportunity to study music! No-one could doubt her sensitivity to the melancholy essence of the melody, which caused her lower lip to protrude in that sweet fashion.
Kitty sighed, with a crossness that did not mar her expression with frowns. ‘Are there to be nought but these two officers at Georgiana’s ball?’ she thought. ‘They are poor and plain, and Colonel Fitzwilliam only laughed at me when I asked him if he would wear his red coat.’
The young vicar looked across at Mrs. Darcy. There was a similarity in the faces of the sisters. He could see it now, especially as a melancholy not there a moment ago had robbed Elizabeth’s face of its mobility. The plaintive air finished. There was clapping and sighing.
“Thank you, Miss Edgeley,” said Darcy. “That was beautiful. Will you play for us again?”
“What would you like to hear?”
“Something lively, if you please.”
Miss Emily inclined her head, and thought for a moment.
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, concern in his eyes. She shook herself out of her despondent mood.
As the guests prepared themselves for departure, Elizabeth strolled towards the carriages with Lord Reerdon. She became aware that her mind had wandered away from the babbling brook of the earl’s discourse.
“Indeed, your Lordship?”
“Yes, Mother and I spent a month at Rosings.”
“So long? You found much to entertain you then?”
“Lord, yes. Lady Catherine’s a marvellous old lady.”
“Was Miss de Bourgh well when you left Kent?”
“I am sorry to say that she was not in good health. Yet she is patient and uncomplaining.”
“Really?” said Elizabeth.
“Such a pale and delicate creature, quite ethereal.”
“Indeed, she is, my lord.”
Lady Reerdon was escorted to her carriage by Darcy.
“At last I can speak to you in private,” she said. He waited for her to continue.
“I wished to be the first to tell you that we are to be related. Frederick is engaged to be married to your cousin, Miss de Bourgh.”
He expressed all the sentiments to be expected: his congratulations, his pleasure, his hopes for the happiness of his lordsh
ip and his bride.
She put her hand upon his arm.
“This is the very outcome to serve all our purposes. Lady Catherine, I believe, sought a title for her daughter; I sought a solution for the confusion of our family circumstances.” (Thus did her ladyship delicately refer to Reerdon’s mountain of debt, to which she was, herself, prone to add.) “Fortunately, the young people were not loath to agree to the notion.”
“I hope we shall always be friends, Countess.”
“Naturally, we shall. As I said to Lady Catherine, the love that I bore your mother does not permit of quarrels with her son.”
“What had her ladyship to say to that?”
“After establishing that the love she bore her own sister could have no equal in the heart of a mere friend, she wished us to be in accord in our conduct towards you.”
“Are you expressing that accord in gracing Pemberley with your presence?” he asked.
She laughed. “You know how I hate to quarrel.”
Darcy bowed. (Her ladyship was famous for always getting her own way while never appearing to disagree with anyone.)
She went on. “I mentioned to Lady Catherine that her other guests had no doubt ascertained that a certain direction was to be expected in the friendship between our children. It would hardly do to disappoint them of the satisfaction of being right.”
It would, of course, have been disastrous for Anne de Bourgh to be seen as twice disappointed. Lady Catherine was in no position to make bargains so late in the proceedings. Darcy smiled. He handed Lady Reerdon into her carriage.
She put the window down to add: “It often happens that a small twist of fate can be cunningly employed to end a quarrel.”
He bowed and turned to watch as the footman assisted Kitty into the carriage. The earl loped up alongside him.
“Please accept my congratulation, my lord. I hope you will be very happy.”
“I thank you, Darcy. I am sure I shall.”
CHAPTER 19
ELIZABETH FAIRLY SKIPPED ALONG THE path, matching Darcy’s pace with ease. They wound up through the woods, the leafy green canopy delicious despite the cold day. Patches of sunlight lit the path and glades.
They stopped at a turn in the path, which afforded a brief view of the house. Somewhere in its rooms or about the gardens were their guests. The distant figures of Georgiana and Kitty could be seen walking along the terrace. They stopped by the fountain and Georgiana bent gracefully at its rim.
“Georgiana so loved that fountain when she was a babe,” said Darcy. “The sound of its splashing drew her like a magnet.”
“Did it, indeed?”
“Very much so. She would break away from her nurse, toddle to the basin and endeavour to clamber into it, squealing in ecstasy.”
“How wondrously naughty! How I love her for it!”
“These adventures came to an end. One day she succeeded and, as the nurse pulled her from the water, our father’s voice cut short Georgiana’s triumph. ‘Nurse, what can you be thinking of? Do you seek to drown the child?’ Those were his precise words.”
“You were present?”
“I was. My father turned to me.” Darcy repeated his father’s next words with difficulty. “‘As for you, sir, I did not think to find you so derelict in your duty to your sister.’”
Elizabeth put her hand on his arm.
“What harm would have come to her with her nurse and brother so close by? I think your father was a little harsh.”
“Not at all, Elizabeth. He was perfectly correct.” A faint blush coloured his cheeks. “I am ashamed to say that I was laughing.”
“That is a crime indeed. What age were you, may I ask?”
“Old enough to know better. I was thirteen.”
She looked into his eyes. “You are equally hard upon yourself, Fitzwilliam.”
“I believe my father never looked on my sister without mourning my mother. I knew he had a morbid fear of losing his daughter.”
“That is very sad. Do you know that I cannot think of a single member of my family who would not have laughed heartily at such antics?”
“What!”
“Except that my mother, perhaps, may have expressed irritation …”
“Naturally.”
Laughing, she continued, “… if the child’s dress were new and the basin full of weeds and dirt.” She turned and looked down at the far-off fountain, with Georgiana standing at its edge.
Darcy said, “I do not believe poor Georgiana understood that my father’s anger was directed against the nurse and myself. She knew only his displeasure. He looked down on her, a scrap of humanity, a pool of water collecting round her feet, and he frowned.”
“Poor man.”
“Georgiana never again jumped into the fountain.”
Elizabeth felt a cold prickling on the skin of her arms. She shivered.
“I hope we do not leave too many of these uncomfortable memories with our own children,” she said.
At once she was reminded of all the unhappiness and quarrels at Netherfield following the loss of her unborn child.
‘If we have any such,’ she thought.
He was looking at her steadily. She looked up and smiled.
He said, “Elizabeth, I hope you do not dwell overmuch on events in Hertfordshire.”
“No, I assure you.” She took his arm. They turned again away from the house and followed the path further up the hill. He covered her hand with his.
“I know how disappointed you felt, dearest, but recollect for how short a time we have been married.”
“I know. I know. I am over that pain, Fitzwilliam. Yet how much easier it would have been to bear, if none but ourselves had known of my condition.”
“It is my ungovernable temper that has led to this estrangement from your sister Mary.”
“You were perfectly right to be angry and Papa’s decree that she could not come here until she has apologised has been of great convenience to me.”
She took a little skipping step. “It has freed me from Mary’s embarrassing exhibitions of her self-applauded talent and her false piety. It is quite convenient for me that she is so stiff-necked.”
He wondered if he should remonstrate with her on this unfeeling view of her own sister, but he could not, for laughter.
They continued up the path. Moving out of sight of the house, they wound around the side of the valley and across a little bridge. They were totally hidden here, from above by the overhanging rocks and from below by the trees. The air was redolent with the smell of damp and mosses, and with the sounds of running water.
“Avert your eyes, sir!” Elizabeth said. She hitched up her skirt a little into her sash, and they picked their way along a mossy path that branched off among the rocks.
The water gushed out of a fissure in the rock and fed a deep pool in the side of the hill. Darcy spread his coat over a rock and they sat together. Ripples spread out through the green reflections of the trees. She leant her head against him and they sat in silent companionship.
At last, Elizabeth raised her head from his shoulder and her eyes from the pool.
She looked at her watch.
“Gracious, Fitzwilliam! It is past eleven, and we have an hour’s walk back to the house.” He rose, reluctance in all his movements. He put out his hand to her and she rose. All her contemplative peacefulness was gone. She was alive with excitement.
“I would not have my friends arrive at Pemberley and find me absent.”
“Indeed not. Mr. and Mrs. Courtney must not find us negligent.”
They began to trace the little track to the path. Elizabeth turned to bid the pool farewell.
“How Mrs. Courtney would love this spot.”
Darcy recoiled inwardly.
“Never mind,” said Elizabeth. “She shall not know of its existence. I doubt if she has ever walked so far or climbed so high a hill in her life.”
Darcy felt a rush of relief, somewhat tempered by a lack
of satisfaction in her reasons for keeping her friend from this spot.
“We shall, in all probability, lack the opportunity to repeat this excursion ourselves these next three weeks, dearest. By tomorrow we shall have fifty guests in the house, and I shall treasure each moment I spend alone with you.”
She raised her eyebrows. They set off briskly to return to the house.
Kitty was fascinated by Mrs. Courtney. She was quite the smallest person at table for luncheon, but by no means the least significant. She sparkled away on her host’s right hand, listening to him, then making him laugh. Kitty could scarcely attend to her neighbours for wondering what Mrs. Courtney might be saying.
Darcy had gravely questioned his guest regarding her family’s health. She told him that Mr. Courtney, as could plainly be seen, was “disgracefully stout in his constitution”. Her aunt, the marchioness, was likewise, although she showed her usual end-of-the-season dissatisfaction with her protégés.
“I am sorry to hear it,” said Darcy. She laughed.
“Mr. Glover was invited to pay an extended visit to the estate of an admirer, who offers him patronage he cannot afford to scorn. When he carefully broke the news, Lady Englebury’s response was to wave him off with an injunction to partake of some fresh air and return exhibiting some colour. Her ladyship looked about her drawing room and commented on how surrounded she was with (here Amelia mimicked her aunt’s expression of scorn and distaste) ‘pasty-complexioned men’. She well-nigh broke his heart.”
Darcy laughed.
Mrs. Courtney watched him, as she added, “The marchioness said: ‘If I cannot have Mrs. Darcy, I want no-one.’” Darcy merely inclined his head.
Mrs. Courtney looked archly at her host. “You have won such a prize in your lady, Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled. “Indeed, I know this.”
“Lady Englebury has gone to Deepdene without her disciples. Of course, I do not mean that she abandoned my cousins. Miss Whittaker and her brother will spend three weeks with her, after visiting their friends in Somerset. Her ladyship says that she cannot survive five months on wholesome country fare, without a generous seasoning of Peregrine’s spite.” Amelia noted the pleasure with which Mr. Darcy received that remark.
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