Mrs. Darcy's Dilemma: A Sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice

by Diana Birchall

  "A little."

  "Then, we will have good times together, if you like to draw. My drawing-master comes twice a week, and you can join in the lessons. Have you had much instruction?"

  "No, but I should dearly like it." Cloe's eyes brightened.

  "Would you care to come too, Miss Wickham?" asked Jane politely. "If you don't draw, there are other things - I read French and Italian with the nicest lady."

  "I cannot speak for my younger sister, she may still require the services of a governess," said Miss Wickham, "but I am out, and have been so, these two seasons; and would scorn to be running all day to a governess, like a school girl."

  "That answers the question of whether the Miss Wickhams are out," said Mrs. Darcy, slyly. "We had hoped to introduce you both to society, when Jane has her ball, and when she is presented at Court; but since you are so long out, Miss Wickham, perhaps Cloe will lead the set with Jane."

  Miss Wickham flushed angrily. "I did not mean - I am sure I am as much a young lady as Cloe and have never yet been to Court," she said resentfully.

  "There is time to think about all these things, for we do not go to London until after Christmas," said Mrs. Darcy. "In the meantime we must think what else my nieces might enjoy. Do you ride, Miss Wickham?"

  "I do dearly love riding," cried she, at the same moment as Cloe said, "We have never ridden."

  "I'll thank you to speak for yourself, sister; I have ridden often, and had lessons in the park when we were living at York. That was after we were at Darlington, but my father has been at Newcastle all this year, and I have had no riding. But the master at York said I had a noble seat on a horse and was coming on finely," said Miss Wickham. "Don't you remember, Cloe, how he would not even accept payment for the lessons..." She stopped.

  "You are very welcome to ride all you like while you are here," said Mrs. Darcy cordially, "as you are such a proficient. And perhaps Miss Cloe would care to learn."

  "Oh! Thank you," she answered, "but to say the truth, I look forward to the lessons in French and Italian, more."

  "Do you?" said Jane. "That is surprising."

  "Miss Cloe is a blue-stocking," sneered Mrs. Clarke.

  "Oh, no, that I am not," said Cloe. "But - if I could speak Italian as well as French, I might be able to obtain a situation as a governess one day, and maintain myself. There are so many of us, you know, that we must think about such things."

  "A governess! In this family!" exclaimed Mrs.Clarke, shocked. "What ever will Lady Catherine de Bourgh say!"

  "Aunt Catherine need have nothing to say," said Mrs. Darcy dryly, "for once. I think Miss Cloe is being very sensible. Are you to be a governess too, Miss Wickham?"

  "A governess! Heaven forbid! To put one's self utterly beyond the possibility of ever having any position in society! I do not know how you can say such a thing before company, Cloe. For shame. It must be only a mad whim."

  "You can hardly think that, sister, when you know as well as I do that we have no fortune, and must seek our livings hereafter. That is why I shall be grateful for any lessons that may better enable me to do it."

  "But a governess - It is hardly respectable," said Miss Wickham, casting up her eyes. "Surely we need not despair yet, at our ages, of making our fortune in marriage."

  Mrs. Darcy laughed. "I am quite sure that both my nieces will do that, so pretty as you are. Now, do pour out the tea, Jane, so we may be finished and dressed before the gentlemen come in."

  Fitzwilliam had spent the day with the local hunt - out in the field with the dogs and the horses while Mr. Darcy and Henry consulted with Dr. Clarke upon parish business, so they first saw the young ladies as the party was assembling for dinner. Fitzwilliam's usually stolid, inexpressive face brightened at the sight of Miss Wickham, who was looking very handsome, having inveigled the French maid into completely re-arranging her hair. He did not say much, but attached himself to her side, while she regarded him with complacency. In a remarkably short time, she succeeded in drawing him out more than any other girl had done; and what was his parents' amazement to see him leaning back at ease in his chair, and addressing her as follows:

  "We found in the spinney near the gardener's cottage - the fox crossed in front of us - had an hour's good work all over the Park - ran into him near the stream - my friend Farley hallooed, the blockhead, and the fox was off. We had a time of it in Pemberley woods, I can tell you, there was some snow in there, that slowed us considerable - but we got to the waterfall, where my friend Smith nearly fell in, a very near thing - but the pace wound down after that and the hounds brought the fox to ground in a rabbit-warren. A brave fox: the finest black bobtailed vixen you ever saw."

  "A vixen! Really!" was Miss Wickham's reply.

  While Fitzwilliam relived his day's sport, and Miss Wickham listened with flattering interest, Henry politely questioned Cloe, receiving at first only shy answers, but she soon was drawn into his spirited conversation with his sister, and forgot to feel conscious that the elder Darcys were regarding her.

  "My sister tells me you are an eager scholar, cousin," he said, turning to her with a smile.

  "Now Henry! I never said such a thing. You know I never did."

  "Well then you said something uncommonly like it, my dear Jane. How else would I have received the impression that Miss Cloe prefers books to balls?"

  "I do not know that I do," she said shyly. "I have never been to a ball."

  "Never been to a ball! Poor Miss Cloe. An unhappy state of things; but soon to be altered. I hope your opportunities for reading have not been so limited as those for dancing?"

  Cloe had never been spoken to by a gentleman in such a way, as Henry's arch, teasing tone; but she was charmed, though she did not quite know how to reply. "I am afraid so. There were not many books at home," said she.

  "Had you a governess? Did you go to school?" asked Jane.

  "Jane, do not be so inquisitive," said Mrs. Darcy. "Your cousin does not know what to answer."

  "Oh, thank you, I do, Aunt Darcy, and I don't mind a bit," said Cloe. "We had no governess; and my mother was too busy with the children to teach us, but when my father was quartered at Darlington, for three years, we went to a dame school, nearby."

  "Your sister attended the same institution, did she?" asked Henry, looking at Miss Wickham, whose dark head and rosy cheek were inclined confidentially toward Fitzwilliam.

  "What are you saying, Cloe? Do I hear my name?"

  "We are talking of school, Bettina."

  "Oh! How horrid schools are, you cannot conceive. I longed for London and masters to teach me the arts and graces as a girl, for though I flatter myself I have many of them naturally, such lessons could only have added lustre. However, Papa thought it would not answer. I fancy he was embarrassed for the funds: a captain in the Army, retired on half pay, does not have much, you know, and it is of no use to pretend that we could afford such fal-lals. It is a sad thing to be a poor girl. But poor as I am, there is a refinement about me, and I could not bear that common school for very long, I can tell you. Confinement is abhorrent to me. I am a wild creature, Mr. Fitzwilliam, and must flutter my wings."

  "So I should imagine, my dear Miss Wickham."

  "Yes: I feel quite 'in city pent' whenever anyone tries to contain or trammel me in any such situation as that. I long for the wild free country. Riding is the thing for me. It is quite my passion."

  "I should take you for a horsewoman. You would appear magnificent upon the right steed."

  "I am told that I do."

  "I wonder if you would care to ride with me tomorrow? It is Wednesday; I do not hunt on Wednesday. The last bits of snow will have melted by noon. You will be quite comfortable. There is a chestnut mare in my father's stables that would just suit."

  "Oh, for a gallop in that beautiful park! Can there be any greater pleasure in the world?"

  "You must ride my own mare, indeed, Miss Wickham," said Jane politely, since the chestnut was hers. "Estrella is a sweet lit
tle animal, and I very seldom have as much time to take her out as I should, I am so much occupied."

  "You must have a great many lessons to prepare," observed Cloe.

  "My sister is a busy girl, indeed," said Henry, "like most modern young ladies. There are not only her lessons, drawing, music, and languages, but she has her hours set aside for reading, for work, and for visiting the people round her. Have I forgot anything? You do not paint upon china, to be sure, but it is the only accomplishment you want."

  "Do not tease me before company, Henry," said Jane, smiling at him.

  "I should not think that it is necessary for a lady to be so very much occupied," said Miss Wickham languidly. "I never am, and I am quite as modern a young lady as Jane, I believe."

  "Of course, cousin Jane is right to be busy," cried Cloe, "it is wrong not to want to improve yourself; and it is fine to have many pursuits."

  "I must occupy my time somehow," said Jane with a laugh, "and my lessons are useful and pleasant. I should not like to dawdle about doing nothing as some ladies do."

  "I did not mean that a lady should do nothing," said Miss Wickham. "That would not be very attractive. But to perpetually be a schoolgirl faugh!"

  "I am sure the time will come when Jane has no time for lessons," said Henry fondly, "she will be married, and then she will have something else to think of. But you were telling us of the studies of your youth, now so long past, cousin Cloe?"

  "Oh! That is soon told. I was glad when my father's regiment moved from Darlington to York; there was no school near our new quarters, but there was a circulating library, and when I had a few pence, I could borrow a book, though that was not very often, for I went out to service."

  "Sister! How can you tell such a thing!" cried Miss Wickham, falling back in her chair with real horror.

  "A niece of mine, in service," said Mr. Darcy gravely. "I should like to hear about that."

  "Oh, it was not anything remarkable. I was sewing-girl to a fine lady, that is all," said Cloe in some embarrassment. "I could earn something, in that way, for clothes for myself and my sisters, and sometimes there was a little more - for books."

  "I thought your mother received an allowance," said Mr. Darcy gravely, "it should have kept her family from such need. How old were you when you did this service?"

  "From the time I was thirteen until we removed to Newcastle, last year. Then I was offered to become a regular maidservant, but my mother would not hear of it."

  "I should think not - the shame," said Miss Wickham, with a toss of her head.

  Cloe was silent, her face scarlet. Henry observed her with compassion, but did not speak, and after a moment she bent her head and ran out of the room in confusion.

  "Oh, Mr. Darcy," said his wife, with compunction, "you have distressed her."

  "I would not, for the world," he began, much disturbed.

  "Miss Wickham, perhaps you will go after her, and make her understand that we meant no harm," said Henry.

  "I certainly shall not. My sister is a ninny. Everyone knows my father and my mother have no economy, and never had a cross penny to bless themselves with. She need not act as if it had only just been found out."

  "Let me go to her," said Jane.

  "Yes, do," said Henry, gratefully, and she left the room.

  Miss Wickham turned to Fitzwilliam with eager attention, and in a few moments the two younger ladies appeared, their arms around each other's waists. If Cloe had been crying, it had not hurt her looks; her delicate complexion was unmarred, and the shine of her eyes was becoming.

  Henry moved to her side and considerately began talking of the language lessons in which he and Jane took such delight. Cloe could read, but not speak French, and Italian was beyond her.

  "It is such a pretty language," said Jane, "and a knowledge of it improves one's singing - or, rather, one's understanding of music; for I am no singer."

  "My sister is being unjustifiably modest; her voice is not a large one, but it is sweet," said Henry.

  Cloe expressed an eager wish to hear her, and Jane was making her musical promises, when dinner was announced. Henry gallantly led Cloe and Jane in the procession, following his parents, Miss Wickham and Fitzwilliam, while Dr. Clarke, who had accepted an invitation to dine at Pemberley, tardily brought up the rear with his wife. That lady did not cease complaining to him audibly until they were all seated.

  "If you did not waste so much time in the garden, William, but spent more time in the drawing-room, as you should and ought, you would benefit from the society of your betters, and not be such a rough old thing. You cut a very poor figure, that you do, by the side of real gentlemen, like Darcy; and you think nothing of shaming me before every body with your lateness. That is why we are obliged to walk last, even behind the young people."

  "He who goes last on earth, is first in Heaven," he found spirit to murmur, though nobody else heard this but his wife.

  "Well! That is very fine talking, and the way you end every thing, by putting on your pulpit-hat,"she retorted, discomfited.

  When Cloe entered the grand dining room, the glittering profusion of plate on the long table, the beautiful old wooden wainscotting, and the dignified dark portraits gazing down from the walls, so struck her that she halted for a moment in the doorway, in surprise.

  "What a beautiful room! I have never seen such a one before."

  "It is a fine dining-room, seventeenth century, and one of the oldest in the house," said Mrs. Darcy, pleased. "This table was built specially for the room's peculiar shape; and you see the ornaments that Mr. Darcy's father brought back from his world tour, 1790 I believe that was."

  "My dear, you know as much about the house after your five and twenty years' residence, as the old housekeeper used to do. You must not overwhelm the Miss Wickhams," said Mr. Darcy fondly.

  "Oh, I declare, I can never hear too much about such elegant things," said Miss Wickham. "I shall tire you by asking about them perpetually. I only hope I shall have a room like this for my own one day."

  No one answered this speech, though Fitzwilliam looked much struck by it.

  They sat down to table, and Dr. Clarke, though the quietest of the party, was the first to speak. "My dear young ladies, it is almost a pity you are here at this season," he said, "for the gardens are nothing to see. But in spring and summer, it is a very different story. I am not ashamed of my own little garden at Lambton Parsonage - "

  "I should think you are not, brother, people come from all over the country to see it," interposed Mrs. Darcy. He nodded gratefully at her, and continued.

  "I do have some very choice pears and peaches trained against the wall - and my borders in spring are very well worth seeing, the hollyhocks and delphiniums put on quite a show; and there are two quite beautiful lilacs, one violet, one white; but it is nothing to Pemberley. The rose gardens here!

  Well!" He stopped, dreamily.

  "Dr. Clarke is a rosarian," said Elizabeth kindly, "he takes especial care of our walled rose-garden, and would be quite jealous, I believe, if the gardeners tried to interfere."

  "Oh! I hope I would not be jealous," said Dr. Clarke, "not jealous, that would be a sin. But roses are so very delicate. They require more than common care. I am devoted to Flora, you will perceive."

  "Yes, I do believe you care more about them than any thing," said his wife disagreeably, and he lapsed into his ordinary silence. Fitzwilliam began to talk about fox-hunting again, and before the berry-pies were brought in, Miss Wickham was treated to a great deal of information about the merits of his five and a half couple of hounds, the musculature of their legs, the wetness of their noses, and their ability to give tongue.

  CHAPTER III.

  On the following morning, the Miss Wickhams began their lessons. Cloe read Italian with Jane for several hours and in the Oafternoon, as it was a clear and sunny day, Jane and Henry showed her the woods, the maze, and the conservatory. If their ramble did not convey much solid information to her, at leas
t it had the merit of perfecting their friendship. Miss Wickham had her riding lesson with Fitzwilliam, but they were not seen by any one else until four o'clock, when they came in for tea with flushed faces, not saying very much.

  Mr. Darcy came in from seeing his agent, and had changed his boots and was crossing to his library when his wife stopped him. "I should like to speak to you, Mr. Darcy," said she.

  "I thought so; is it about your niece? Come into the library, my dear, and we shall be quite undisturbed."

  He seated himself at his desk in the long room with its curious white plaster molding, carved in the seventeenth century and one of the wonders of Pemberley. The late afternoon sun slanted through the diamond-paned windows and lighted up the old, golden-bound volumes.

  "Well, what is it? It is not like you to be at a loss for words. Has that baggage, Betty or Bettina or however she calls herself, turned out a second Lydia and run off with Fitzwilliam?"

  In spite of her anxiety Mrs. Darcy laughed."That is so exactly what I fear may happen. Really, Mr. Darcy, I do not like her. From observation, I can see that she is certainly very vulgar, and very likely without principles. I fear she means mischief."

  "You are decided in your opinions, Elizabeth. But your condemnations are not so extensive as to include the younger sister."

  "Oh, no! Cloe Wickham seems to be everything she should be. I like her not being afraid to work. She is a good little thing, and clever too, I suspect."

  "And a fit wife for Henry? Have you got that far?"

  "Mr. Darcy! How can you? They have not known each other two days."

  "But he is taken with her."

  "I have never seen him so interested in a young lady before," she confessed.

  "Then both our lads are in danger."

  They looked at each other soberly.

  "I begin to fear it was ill-considered," said Elizabeth, "bringing my nieces here, and since it was all my own wish, I have nobody to blame for it. Oh! What a pity. How much lighter my spirits would be if only I could blame you."