A Private Performance

by Helen Halstead

  Any hopes Kitty might have cherished of conversation with Amelia Courtney after the meal were dashed. Elizabeth carried her friend off to drive around the estate in her new phaeton. Kitty watched from her window as the groom fussed over the placement of the blanket on their knees. She saw Elizabeth turn and speak to him, as he leapt up onto the narrow step on the back of the vehicle. The coachman half turned his head, seemingly in surprise. The groom had jumped down and stood in a woebegone posture. Elizabeth could be seen to laugh. He jumped up again, and the coachman turned back, with squared shoulders and handed up the reins to his mistress. They were off, all as it should be, with the mistress of Pemberley properly escorted when away from her house.

  Kitty sighed. How was she to pass the afternoon? Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy were at their music. Jane was driving out with Bingley. Oh, for the morrow, when there would be any number of young people about the house. She sat at her little desk to compose a letter to her sister Lydia.

  From Miss Catherine Bennet to Mrs. Wickham

  Pemberley

  Dearest Lydia,

  I thank you for your kind invitation. How I long to be with you again. What fun we should have at the balls and parties you speak of. It must be ecstasy to be so surrounded by officers. Our father, alas, writes that I may not go to you.

  I think the dressmaker is horrid to give you no more credit. I cannot lend you any money, for I shall need all my allowance, even the extra ten pounds Papa gave to me! The people here play so high! I lost two pounds at Lotteries and Lizzy read me such a sermon. I patiently listened to it, all for nought, for she refused to give me so much as a shilling.

  It is but two days to Miss Georgiana’s ball. Mr. Darcy has given me earrings and a necklace of sapphires. Mary would have received as good, if she had come. Since she is in such a pet, she is saving my brother-in-law some money. Lizzy had an exquisite gown made for me. It is of white silk, with beading on the sleeves and neck …

  Kitty looked out across the park, to a little summer house, where the sun streamed in. How picturesque she would look sitting there, with the light shining through her muslin gown. It was a little cold out, to be sure, but she might wear her velvet pelisse. Kitty gathered up her paper and implements and set off for the summer house. She seated herself prettily by the window and unpacked her little basket. Just as she imagined, the sun came in and illuminated her nicely. The pink frills of velvet glowed around her neck and wrists, while the light fabric of her skirt shone almost transparent. And there was no-one to see her! She picked up her pen.

  … Oh, Lydia! Tomorrow, at last, there are to be some young men in the house. Naturally there will be young ladies too, but I have no fear of them. Yet, woe is me! I cannot find that there are to be above two officers at the ball. They are Mr. Darcy’s cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and the colonel’s friend, Captain Westcombe, both poor and plain. Miss Darcy spends hours at a time sitting between them. I teased her a little about the way Captain Westcombe hangs upon her words, few as they are. She turned the brightest pink and declared: “I am sure you are mistaken, Kitty. Captain Westcombe is a younger son!” She might just as well have said he were a stable-boy, or even a dog! She dares not even attribute an atom of feeling to this species, the penniless cadet, for I daresay she will marry where she is directed and that will be to a man of property.

  Jane and Bingley intend to give up Netherfield and are looking to purchase an estate in Derbyshire or possibly Yorkshire. They are out today, looking at a place near Derby. Mama will have an attack of the vapours when she knows of their plans …

  From the safety of distance, Kitty smiled at the thought of her mother’s hysterics. For the first time, she noticed the buzzing of insects in the flowers that sprawled over the roof of the summer house. She moistened her little red mouth with the tip of her tongue. As she dipped the pen in the ink, a sound intruded upon her. It was a footstep. She looked up and gasped. She jumped up and the pen rolled from the little table to the floor. The intruder stepped forward and bent to retrieve it. Gold tassels swung forward from his epaulettes; gold buttons adorned the front of his red coat. He held out the pen to her. Kitty gazed into his handsome face. He bowed. Brown eyes sparkled with warmth and humour. Under his teasing smile, a strong chin jutted out over his gold-braided collar.

  “Madam, may I present myself for your protection?”

  “Oh, no!” she said. “I do not know you, sir.”

  Snatching up her letter, she stepped out of the revealing ray of sunlight and passed him on the steps, her eyes averted. She tripped back across the grass, never once looking back. He laughed to himself and picked up the little basket she seemed to have forgotten. At a distance, he followed her back to the house.

  … Past midnight

  Dear, dear Lydia, would that you were here! I have passed such an evening as you cannot imagine! I was seated at table with the handsomest officer I have ever seen. Wickham is nothing to him. We had ever such a romantic encounter in the summer house. He is Lieutenant Foxwell, the young brother of Mr. Darcy’s friend. He is but newly become an officer and he is to be at Pemberley for three weeks. I intend that he shall monopolise me entirely. Lizzy says I am not to encourage his compliments, for he must look for a fortune if he wishes to marry. Why are all the best young men poor?

  As soon as the weather is warmer, he promises to row me on the lake. I shall wear my pink bonnet to remind him of our first encounter.

  I shall write again soon and tell you all about Georgiana’s ball. You must write to me and not such a short note as your last, if you please.

  Give my best to Wickham,

  Your loving sister,

  Kitty

  Kitty may have had no fears of the charms of the other young ladies invited to Pemberley. However, she had not taken into account their virtues. Miss Robson had arrived, along with her fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds, a virtue which quite outbalanced her plainness, making her appear very pretty indeed. The young lady was accompanied by her aunt, a wealthy widow, who was rumoured to have willed all of her own estate, too, upon the fortunate girl.

  With all the luck of a novice, Reginald Foxwell, with the help of his uniform, captivated both the girl and her aunt.

  Kitty wrote to Lydia of her justified outrage.

  P.S. All my joy is turned to ashes!! Miss Darcy’s friend from school is come. She is the most hideous creature you ever saw and blushes and stammers when my beau is about! He is all gallantry to her, for her fortune, but she would be in a green fit of jealousy if she could hear how he compliments me when she is not about. Her horrid old aunt simply dotes upon him. Everyone must share my feelings of disgust at seeing such an ugly old woman tapping his wrist with her fan and laughing at his jokes. I daresay she means to marry him herself! I will get him away from Miss Tedious, rich aunt and all, and dance half the night with him at the ball. Of course I must be on the watch for Lizzy. You would laugh to see me so demure and obedient to my sister, but Papa has said that at the first whisper of a complaint from Lizzy, I come home at once. Hertfordshire! How did I ever tolerate its dullness!

  After tossing and turning, in agonies of the heart, for at least a quarter of an hour, Kitty fell asleep and did not awaken until eleven. It was the day of the ball! She nearly sprang out of bed, but stopped herself in time. She reached up and rang for her maid.

  Elizabeth had treated herself to a peaceful breakfast in her room, on what promised to be a busy day. She supervised the floral decorations in the ballroom, then called into the still room, where she was almost overpowered by the delicious scent of thirty rose bouquets, set out in a rainbow of colours, each chosen to match a lady’s gown.

  She stepped out into the sunlight and wandered along the terrace. It was a beautiful day. She would go to the summer saloon and see if some of the ladies desired to walk around the lake.

  As she turned the corner, she saw a horse at the steps. Captain Westcombe was just coming out of the house with the colonel.

  “Mr
s. Darcy, I have been looking for you.”

  “You are not leaving us, Captain?”

  “Indeed I must. I have received an urgent message from my mother. My brother, the earl, is very ill with scarlet fever.”

  “I am very sorry to lose your society and for such a cause as this. Will you not take a carriage?”

  “My mother sends a carriage to meet me. I thank you for your kindness.”

  “I will not delay you. Our thoughts will be with you and all your family.”

  He hesitated.

  “Will you say goodbye to Miss Darcy for me? I have so enjoyed our conversations.”

  “Of course.”

  They said hasty farewells and Elizabeth watched as he rode away up the drive.

  She turned to Henry.

  “How serious is Lord Bradford’s condition, Colonel?”

  “Serious enough. It seems he has been nursed through a fit and has not recovered his senses.”

  Elizabeth’s thoughts returned frequently to the captain’s family. They would be feeling the keenest anxiety over the third of four brothers to face premature death. His aunt by marriage, Lady Englebury, and the marquess would feel an additional concern because Lord Bradford, now lying dangerously ill, was heir to the marquess. Of course, Captain Westcombe was next in line. A wild thought entered her head. She laughed ruefully; the poor earl was not even dead, and the captain was rumoured to have long loved his cousin Arabella, who would not so much as look at a younger son.

  The main dining hall was filled to capacity. The long table sparkled with silver and glass settings complemented by the silver ribbons and glass ornaments set on fine wires among the hothouse flowers.

  In view of the special night, the hostess had waived precedence considerations for the young unmarried people. The centre of the table was the scene of gaiety with a concentration of girls and young men. Lord Reerdon was among them, feeling rather dashing on his last chance to play at being available.

  Poor Kitty was stationed between a stodgy young man, somebody else’s younger son, and the Reverend Edward Turner! She noticed Lieutenant Foxwell glancing in her direction on occasion. She revenged herself by devoting her time to chattering prettily to Mr. Turner. She had never spoken to him for so long together, and found him quite nice, the poor thing.

  Georgiana was not enjoying herself. She had accepted Captain Westcombe’s request for the honour of the first dance. As he was called to his brother’s sickbed, she lacked a partner. Now, capping her dread of being the first to step onto the dance floor, she had to endure everyone’s attention as three gentlemen all desired her hand for the opening dance. One young Lothario suggested they fight for the honour since she would not name the lucky man.

  “Gentlemen!” Elizabeth remonstrated, with a hint of laughter. Darcy began to rise, with no such hint on his countenance, when Henry Fitzwilliam forestalled him.

  “You are too late, sirs. My cousin has already made her choice. I am the fortunate man!” Amongst the cries of disappointment, Georgiana gave him a look of loving gratitude.

  As the orchestra introduced the opening dance, Georgiana Darcy was led onto the floor by the man most qualified to give her confidence. She was all grace and womanliness. The bodice of her white silk gown was embroidered with pink roses and pearl beading, her rose bouquet pinned beneath her full bosom. Kitty would have liked to see the colonel in his red coat, but to Georgiana, he looked perfect as he was.

  Lord Reerdon bowed, took his hostess’s hand and they followed Henry and Georgiana. Darcy led out Lady Reerdon, and the set formed below them.

  CHAPTER 20

  THREE DAYS OF BALMY WEATHER followed the ball, and the weather was a perfect excuse for laziness. Some of the guests were relaxing in the saloon, where the windows yawned open onto the lawn. Others sat on chairs or lounged on cushions near the lake. Two young ladies made desultory efforts at painting, while three young men reclined on the grass nearby, admiring their work, or their persons. Tea was being set up under the spread of the chestnut trees.

  Henry rested from his rowing for a moment and the boat drifted into a patch of afternoon shade. Elizabeth sighed.

  “What a beautiful day this is. This weather is extraordinary.” She put her hand on Georgiana’s. “Tell me, what are your feelings having been launched upon society?”

  “Everyone expects me to talk to them. I was so relieved to come in the boat with you.”

  “They thought you were silent before because you were not ‘out’. Now they hope for a flood of words. They must accept you as they find you.”

  “Which is perfect,” said Henry.

  “It is very kind of you to say so, Cousin, but I fear I will be found wanting.”

  “I dare anyone to find you wanting,” said Elizabeth. “Did you enjoy your ball?”

  “I did. It is thanks to you, Elizabeth, that it was so splendid. I enjoyed the dancing, but people would keep looking at me so.”

  “What could they do but look at you when you were so lovely?” Henry’s question floated away on the still air. At this instant, he felt no longing, no aloneness.

  Elizabeth said: “I cherish the privacy here with my dear sister and my—I nearly called you brother.” She smiled and looked away over the water, missing the touch of bitterness in his smile.

  He said, “Darcy has been as a brother to me, more so than my own.”

  He took up the oars again. He felt how unreasonable was his envy of his cousin. Most of his life this feeling had pecked away at his affection for Darcy, who had never stood in his way and who had been unstintingly generous towards him. His feeling for Elizabeth, now a married woman, was not honourable; he would struggle against it.

  Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana. There was a sadness that had not been there before. Henry brought the boat against the little pier.

  Darcy came over to them and handed the ladies out. Elizabeth tucked her hand in his arm and they turned away to join the guests under the trees.

  Elizabeth nodded to the butler to serve refreshments. She sat by her friend Mrs. Courtney who, on impulse, reached out to touch her hand.

  “I continue to marvel over the success of your ball, Elizabeth.”

  “I confess to feeling a good deal of self-satisfaction. Too much of this experience will make me intolerable.”

  “I doubt that very much. You have chosen your guests perfectly. No-one is left ‘on a limb’.” She leant over to whisper: “Especially Mr. Reginald Foxwell. How well he looks in a scarlet coat, and how the ladies admire him in it.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “He is really abominably handsome. How the ladies of his congregation would have adored him in the pulpit.”

  “I imagine he will receive adoration enough in the comfort of his own establishment, with an aunt as well as a wife to worship him,” whispered Amelia.

  “It is very good of him to provide me with a successful romance from my little party,” Elizabeth answered and they both laughed. Mrs. Darcy caught the eye of Mrs. Foxwell, whose nod to her hostess conveyed a certain satisfaction.

  It seemed an understanding was inevitable between Reginald Foxwell and Miss Robson. He had danced half the night with her at the ball; ever since, he had sat by her side, plying her with attentions, which she accepted in a daze of happiness.

  Kitty was taking it very well, sitting amongst a group of young men and women, talking, smiling and never looking his way. Elizabeth took a mental note to praise her sister for this decorum later. Meanwhile, she enjoyed a gracious repose at her beautiful home, surrounded by guests among whom she could count several dear to her. What need had she of marchionesses and the self-serving attentions of the London Ton?

  Her fruit sat untouched. Breezes rippled the patterns of light and shade and wafted the scent of flowers about her. There was a splashing of the ducks on the water, the faint hum of bees and the soft cry of birds from the woods. She felt the intensity of his gaze, and knew her husband looked at her. Their eyes met. Henry saw Darcy’s warm, appro
ving smile. She smiled, too, as enigmatically as ever, but Henry fancied her brief glance to say something like, ‘How dear your face is become to me.’

  ‘I have been impertinent,’ Henry thought. He rose and walked back to the lake.

  He felt her presence at his side even before he turned—dear Georgiana. She put her arm through his. They walked in silence for several minutes. Then she replied to his unspoken thought.

  “She does love him. It is not true what some people say.”

  “What do they say, little one?”

  “Why, that she married him for his fortune. How I hate them!”

  “They are not worthy of your hatred. They mean no real criticism of her, you know. Our society is so fine that those who marry into a higher sphere are to be congratulated, even if they wed solely for worldly gain. Whereas those who marry beneath them are seen as fools, regardless of how passionately they love, or indeed of the happiness they find.”

  She squeezed his arm and they walked on, Henry looking bleakly over the lake.

  “Will your little friend marry Lieutenant Foxwell?”

  “I think so, Henry, if he asks her.”

  “Of course he’ll ask her and sooner rather than later.”