"We will settle all that later, Kitty," said Elizabeth in rather a stifled voice.
Mrs. Wickham was announced, and before the servant had finished speaking her name, she was in the room with her bandboxes and parcels, the many-coloured ribbons on her bonnet a-tremble, talking incessantly so that the room nearly reverberated from the noise. Planting herself directly in front of Mrs. Darcy, she stopped short of throwing herself in her arms.
"Oh Lizzy! Dearest, dearest sister! I could not prevent myself, indeed I could not. I was starving for a peep at my darling daughter, and must needs jump into a carriage, to share in some of the Christmas-tide merry-making. I knew how my girls would be missing me."
Cloe found her voice first. "Indeed Mama, how can you leave the children at Christmas? And Papa - surely that was not kind, by Papa, to leave him alone?"
"Why, that's the very thing. Papa has gone to York with his friend Bird for Christmas revels in the old quarters, and they took the little ones. Never thinking of anything but his own pleasures, and me as forlorn as possible! But I am not one to be left out when there is a good time to be had, am I? And so, I came along, all in a mad whirl. Are you all not pleased to see me? You, my sweetest, are, I am sure."
"Indeed, yes, Mama," said Bettina, with no very gracious look. "Happily, Pemberley is so large my aunt can have no objection, otherwise I should think you had done a very rude thing."
"Rude thing? Oh, my love, you joke. It is all family. We are all family here. Lizzy does not mind."
Elizabeth controlled herself, and only said, "Is that your coach, Lydia? He does not seem to be leaving. Will the horses require accommodation in the stables?"
"Oh, Lord, no! It is only a hired chaise. Have one of your men send them off at once. They have no right to expect favours from your stable men, with the price they have extracted from me. Ruinous, it was. I told him, how dare you ask so much, do you know who I am? That reminds me - it was a matter of fifteen shillings - and I unhappily did not come away with so much. Do you think, Lizzy, you might advance that on my allowance."
"I shall have to, or see you in debtor's prison, I collect," said Mrs. Darcy dryly. "Jane, ring for Sykes and tell him to take care of it, before the coachman storms up here, demanding his pay."
"That is right!" said Lydia in satisfaction, turning away. "It is only a trifle, after all. Let us say no more about it. Oh, my dear Betty! How delightful it is to see you in such fine looks! Sure all the gentlemen hereabouts will fall in love with you. Have you made any conquests yet?"
"Mama, do not talk of conquests," said Cloe, ashamed to look at Mrs. Darcy and Jane. "We are not here for that."
"Are you not? Well, I hoped I'd taught you better sense, Missy, for it is the first duty of every young lady in poor circumstances, to get herself married, and well married. Do not forget that. Only look at your poor Mama, and then at your Aunt Darcy, and you will see the truth of what I am saying. Why she looks ten years younger than me and she is considerable older, though I was married the first. I might have a better appearance if I'd led such an easy life, for it was thought I was the handsomer to begin with, you know."
Even Bettina, though not of a sensitive or over delicate temperament, was embarrassed by her mother's observations. "Oh, Mama, don't say such things. Aunt Darcy can't help having married rich, and I am sure she has been kindness itself to us."
"Well, and what else should she do, it is only right. You are her own nieces."
"They are very welcome here," said Mrs. Darcy, resigned to Lydia's outrageous speeches. She might have added something about Lydia's own appearance at Pemberley being unaccountable, but she looked at Cloe's face, and forbore.
"I must confess, Lizzy, I hope especially to see your menfolks," Lydia continued roguishly. "I have not seen them in years; the boys have grown mighty tall, I daresay."
"Fitzwilliam is tall, quite as tall as Mr. Darcy," said Mrs. Clarke, since no one else seemed disposed to answer, "and a handsome young man, I can tell you. Henry is a little small man and not so well to look at as his brother."
"Oh, Aunt Kitty, how can you say that?" said Cloe, provoked beyond endurance. "Certainly he is not as handsome as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy the younger - at first, but the better you know him, the more pleasant his countenance becomes. I have had considerable conversation with him, and now I think him very well looking indeed."
"Is that so! Well! It is easy enough to see how things are. I have not seen you so in love with a gentleman before, Cloe; I do assure you, Lizzy, she is not a girl who falls in love often. Take care Mr. Henry knows it, and I daresay it will be a match. >Second son of such a house as this, why, that is doing very well. It is just what I hoped."
Cloe's face was turned away in embarrassment and she could not reply, Jane noticed with concern. Mrs. Darcy would deign to offer no comment, but Mrs. Clarke was bridling with indignation.
"Lydia! How can you suggest such a thing! Mr. Henry could never marry one of our nieces. Why, they have no portion at all, and they are his cousins beside. Such impropriety could never be borne by the family. The Darcy pride would not tolerate it."
"Oh, heavens, Mama, you are mistaken," Bettina put in good-naturedly. "Cloe has no designs on Mr. Henry Darcy. You let your imagination run away with you. So meek as she is, how can you suspect her of such schemes." "Indeed, I think no more should be said upon this subject," said Elizabeth, pulling the cord to summon the servant, and request some refreshment for the ladies.
Fitzwilliam came in while the tea was being poured, and was presented to his aunt. Lydia's face brightened with flirtatious smiles, exactly as it had when she was a girl, among handsome young officers.
"So! This is your eldest son, Lizzy! I vow, he is even handsomer than his father - you would think it was Mr. Darcy as a young man, in the flesh, coming into the room."
After making some slight civilities Fitzwilliam seated himself as usual beside Miss Wickham, and Lydia beamed. "I see how it is," she said in a loud whisper to Mrs. Clarke, "I was mistaken - it is not a match with Mr. Henry and poor Cloe that we may expect, it is a grander one. I shall look for my little Betty to be mistress of Pemberley, one fine day, that I will!"
Mrs. Clarke flushed angrily. "Indeed you must not say such things, Lydia. It is quite out of the question. How can you be so foolish, and at your age. Mr. Fitzwilliam could never marry a pauper, and Betty is as indigent a girl as there is in the kingdom, and his own cousin for good measure. For shame!"
"Oh Lord! There's no harm in that. I have seen cousins married forever - as wife of a military man, you do see some strange things, people married, and not married, all living together, as happy as possible. There's nothing to be said against cousins being married. The children turn out neither better nor worse than any body else's I can assure you, though sometimes feeble and weakly; but my lovely Betty and Mr. Fitz would have very smart, good-looking ones."
"Hush, Mama, they will hear you!" whispered Cloe, in an agony.
"Well, then, all to the good. It may give him some ideas, and hasten on the match. I declare I am within half a minute of asking him his intentions, as is my duty as a mother."
To this awful speech Cloe could not reply, and Jane, in compassion for her cousin, hastily inquired if Mrs. Wickham would like to be shown her room.
"Oh, very well," she said agreeably, "there is nothing to be gained by sitting here. I have confidence in my Betty's pretty face, to move things forward as quickly as may be. Isn't she handsome, niece?" she demanded, following Jane out of the room.
"Yes, very handsome."
"She looks quite as I did as a girl, just exactly, for a wonder. You would think it was me grown young again."
Lydia's noisy exit from the room distracted Fitzwilliam from an account of his day's hunting, rabbits shot and rabbits missed. "Ah! Your mother goes. She is a very good natured lady, is she not?"
Bettina looked unconvinced, but answered, "Oh, she's well enough. Mama does have a fine temper of her own. It is the more remark
able, as Papa has not always been as gentle to her as he might."
"Infamous! I cannot hold with men who don't treat their ladies well. If I had him here I would tell him so."
"Would you?"
"Yes, that I would; I always say what I think. I am a blunt straightforward fellow enough, Miss Wickham, and not able to make fine speeches. My brother is the man for that - he is just fit to be a clergyman, but I assure you I am born to something else."
"I am very glad you are not to be a clergyman, Mr. Fitzwilliam."
"Are you indeed? You care about what happens to me, then, do you?"
"That would not be a proper sentiment for a young unmarried woman to express, would it?"
"No. I had forgot your modesty, which is perfectly tremendous. But there, that is my cursed bluntness again. My father tried to teach me more elegant manners, and I spent two terms at Oxford you know; but it hasn't answered, has it? I am what I am, Miss Bettina, and I make no apology."
"No, no, I am sure you can have nothing to apologize for," she said with a simper.
"You like me the way I am, then? I am glad of it. Oh, you smile! Tell me the meaning of that smile, can I cajole you, Miss Bettina? Or do you think I am being very foolish, and making love to you, and all that?"
"Making love is not always foolish."
Elizabeth could not hear their conversation as she sat on the other side of the fire, but she perfectly caught its tenor, and she rose and invited the other ladies to retire upstairs and dress for dinner.
CHAPTER V
The ensuing days were painful ones for Mrs. Darcy, and something not much less for Cloe and Jane. The ladies were confined to the Thouse by a storm of snow and sleet. Theirs was not a congenial party, and Mrs. Wickham's manners were a constant source of irritation. Comfortable, nay luxurious as a house party at Pemberley must be, even in inclement weather, Mrs. Wickham could never sit still to enjoy the beauty and elegance of her surroundings, but must always be in agitation over something. She fretted about her girls' toilettes for the ball - feared they could not be completed in time, owing to the snow, which made shopping excursions to Derby, or even Lambton, out of the question; she worried that the guests would never reach Pemberley at all, and that there would be an insufficient number of gentlemen to dance and flirt with her daughters. The ball was by no means her only concern, for whenever she left off talking about it, her alternate occupation was trying to persuade her sister that she, Mrs. Wickham, should be included in the party that would be going to London for the season, after Christmas. Her wheedling, however, did no good, for Elizabeth never would consent and immediately changed the topic whenever Lydia approached it.
"Oh! Here it is, the twentieth of December, and so much still to be done. I wonder you are not concerned, sister. I am afraid no one will come, and that there will be nothing for them to eat if they do."
"Then we will have nothing to worry about," said Elizabeth, only half attending.
"Why, to be sure, Jane has all her clothes from London and will look a picture opening the ball, I know; but dear sister, only think a moment about my girls. Sure they will disgrace this house, dressed in any old thing. What gown do you wear, Betty my love?"
"I have told you before, Mama. My aunt has given us both white tarlatans. I do wish I had fresh slippers, however. Those cannot be got now, I dare say."
"Oh, I wish they could, for your sake, my dearest. Never mind, you could not afford real silk shoes anyhow, with dancing slippers only good for one time. At any rate, you'll be handsomer than any one else, so I'm sure no one will notice your slippers aren’t made of silk. And Cloe will look well enough, I dare say."
"Tell us if you require any thing, my dear cousin," said Jane, gently. "It is a pity that we cannot get to town; but I have more finery than I ever use, and you must borrow any thing that takes your fancy; it is lucky that we are both of a size."
"Very true. How convenient that is," said Lydia jealously. "I only wish Betty could wear your things too - only she is so tall. It is unlucky, as far as the clothes are concerned; but of course her height is the most elegant one there can be."
"Thank you," Cloe told her cousin, from her heart. "I am very much obliged to you. But I believe my toilette will be complete, thanks to Aunt Darcy's kindness."
"Not mine, however," Miss Wickham observed. "It is a shame I have no ornaments, and will have to dress my hair plain."
"My dear, surely you can contrive something pretty, like a turban or some feathers in your headdress? Mrs. Darcy's maid will assist you I am sure. Else it will be a sad coming out for you."
"The girls will have all the assistance they require," said Mrs. Darcy calmly.
Lydia subsided, but only for a moment. "But will they have partners enough - that's the question. Can any body arrive in this weather? Oh! I am sure my heart will break if the ball has to be cancelled because of it."
"I do not expect that in the least, my dear Lydia," said Mrs. Darcy patiently. "The roads hereabouts are all good, and the neighboring families that have been invited, will have no difficulty in making the journey. And I am sure our guests from farther away will travel safely. The Pilchards - the Venables - the Fieldings - the Collinses - Lady Catherine - they all have excellent carriages and the storm is really nothing out of the ordinary way."
"I hope you are right. Oh, and are you engaged, as yet, for any dances, my love?"
"How could I be, Mama," said Bettina in some annoyance, "when the guests have not arrived yet?"
"I am sure your cousin is engaged. To a lord I make no doubt. Is it not so, my dear?"
"Why, yes, aunt; there is Lord Frederick, he is an old family connection, my Aunt Lady Neville's brother. We are very fond of him," replied Jane patiently, "and he has promised that he will dance with me when I come out. He is to ride over for the ball, and he is so obliging, that I know I can speak for his dancing with my cousins too."
"Well, we must be sure that he does. That is right. Plenty of high bred gentlemen for my girls! Is this Lord Frederick young? What is his estate?"
"He is five or six and twenty, ma'am, but I have no doubt that he is very well off. He has a very good estate just across the border, in Cheshire."
"Oh! Then he is a lucky man. But my girls will not poach upon you, Miss Jane, I have not brought them up to that. No girl of mine will steal your beau."
"He is not my beau, ma'am," said Jane indignantly, "only a very old family friend, as I have said. I have known him all my life. He has often been here when my Aunt Georgiana and her family are visiting."
"Oh - then he is fair game," said Lydia. "Do you hear that, my girls? Well, I can see that I must be on hand as a chaperone, to make sure that all turns out right. Do not you think I ought?"
Mrs. Darcy did not gainsay it, for as Lydia was the girls' mother and was actually in the house, there would be no keeping her from the ballroom on the night, and it was useless to try. She could not conceive of much pleasure from her guests knowing of this family connection, but she imagined to herself, that the crushing of her pride on such a point would no doubt be a good lesson and keep her from over-conceit.
"Now that I no longer dance, I shall watch the young ladies with great pleasure; and when we are at London, it will be quite as good as being presented myself," Lydia announced.
"Not so hasty, Mama. I did not comprehend that you were to go to London with us," said Bettina.
"What! Of course I must and shall be there. Such unsteady young folk need us older ones about. Your mother must be on hand. And I can have a place in that great coach, as easy as not."
"Excuse me, madam," said Mrs. Darcy, since the subject was broached, "but I do not think there will be room. Our carriage party has been arranged beforehand, you know, and cannot now be changed. If you go to London, it must be at your own expense."
Lydia could have said a great deal, and would have, earlier in her life; but her years of unhappiness with Mr. Wickham, in dealing with creditors and landlords, had taught he
r some caution, and she knew that whatever she did, she must not offend her rich sister. So she subsided for the moment, not daring to say more.
Two days before Christmas, warmer weather prevailed; the sun shone; the light casing of ice and snow melted; starlings and finches sang in the sunny brown fields, and very muddy coaches came rolling and jouncing cheerfully along the Pemberley road.
Among the earliest of the arrivals was Henry Darcy, come from being ordained with other young men in his situation, at York; and ready to preach his first sermon at Lambton Church, by gracious consent of Dr. Clarke, who was grateful to escape having to address such a large and distinguished gathering twice on Christmas Day. The family party greeted Henry warmly, and attended church with a pride that perhaps some might have thought improper in such a place; but it was impossible for the Darcys not to smile upon their son, as his words rang out, clear and sensible.
The morning after his ordeal, he walked out with his sister and Cloe, to talk it all over.
"So kind as my mother and father always are!" he exclaimed. "I was uneasy before I ascended to the pulpit, you may be sure, but when I saw them sitting there, looking so certain that I would do well, I was helped over the hard bits. But I am glad it is over."
"Nonsense, Henry, there could not have been any hard bits. You are a natural born preacher. Everyone said so. Ever so much finer than poor old Uncle Clarke, who puts one to sleep when he preaches about flowers, and the unfolding of the soul; I have heard him so often that I fall into a doze when he says the word 'plant’. But your sermon was something else."
"Thank you, Jane; but I hope there is not too much of the orator about me. That implies insincerity. Do not you think so, Miss Cloe?"
"No, indeed. And I am sure Jane did not mean to imply such a thing. She only meant that you spoke very eloquently, as you certainly did. You are sure to be a popular preacher."
"That would be a misfortune, according to my ideas of usefulness - but I daresay I do have something of the noisy trumpet in my nature."
Mrs. Darcy's Dilemma: A Sequel to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice Page 5