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Chapter 37
The pain in her head was agonizing. With a great deal of effort, Georgiana opened her eyes and looked slowly about her. Where she was, she could not discern; there was no timepiece in the room, and the windows were shuttered, so that she could not tell whether it was morning or midnight. A lock of hair fell before her face, and when she tried to brush it away, she discovered that her hands had been bound. Gasping, she tugged desperately with her wrists, trying to wrest them free.
"You may as well stop," drawled a young lady's voice. Georgiana turned her head and saw Lydia Bennet lounging idly on a sofa nearby.
"Miss Lydia!" Georgiana cried. "Help me, please! Whoever has done this is desperate indeed!"
"Desperate?" asked Lydia with a sharp laugh. "Of course George is desperate - why should he not be? He has no real profession, no money, and it is all your dear brother's fault."
"George - do you speak of Mr. Wickham?"
"Have you and your brother ruined so many young men, then?"
"Oh, Miss Lydia," Georgiana said despairingly, "I know not what he has told you, but Fitzwilliam has always been very kind to him..."
"I will not listen to you," Lydia said coldly. "I know what you are. You made George believe that you loved him. You let him pay court to you week after week, and then, by some miracle, your brother happened to show up, and of course you could not bear to deceive him."
Lydia snorted. "You lured George into a trap, Miss Darcy, and now I can see that you have set your sights on my brother!"
"I would never harm your brother - or any of your family!" Georgiana protested.
"And as for poor George," Lydia continued as though Georgiana had not spoken, "I will soothe his heartache quite satisfactorily, make no mistake."
The door opened and Wickham strolled in. "Comfortable?" he sneered at Georgiana.
She shuddered as he leaned toward her. "Keep your distance, sir," she said as firmly as she could.
"What do you plan to do if I don't?" He laughed harshly.
Georgiana kicked out, and he jumped away, swearing. "Learned a bit of spirit from your friend Lizzy, have you?" he snapped. "You have her to thank for your current predicament, by the bye. She led me a merry little chase, and then refused to follow through. I never dreamed old Darce would fall for her, but so much the better. I can now make them both thoroughly miserable."
"My brother will find me, Mr. Wickham."
"I want him to," he said with a nasty grin.
Georgiana's heart beat fast. "What will you do with me? You would not - kill me?"
"Kill you? Of course not - no sense in that at all. No, my beauty, you will live, and I will make Darcy's life hell." He looked at her for a moment, and then turned to Lydia. "Could you leave us, my dear?" Lydia looked confused, but quit the room.
"Useful little minx, that one," Wickham said with a smile. "Helped me take you, and when your brother comes in and gives me the money I've asked for, I know my dear Lydia will tell them about her role - accuse your brother, enlighten hers as to your true character - my, my, I can hardly wait." He grinned down at her white face, and then reached out and slapped her hard across the cheek so that her head pivoted away from him. "And just imagine," he said gleefully, "what your brother's reaction will be when he realizes that his charming future sister-in-law assisted in your capture. How eager will he be then to marry his darling Elizabeth?"
Georgiana, though her face ached, turned her head forward and looked him in the eye with all of her loathing. "You are the most despicable creature I have ever seen."
Wickham ground his teeth, and slapped her again with such force that spots danced before her eyes. "Insolence," he growled, "is most unbecoming to a lady - and, in your case, most unwise."
A rap on the door announced the arrival of a young man. Wickham spoke a few words to him, then gave Georgiana a nasty smile and walked out of the door, shutting it firmly behind him.
Georgiana felt tears threaten. In her mind's eye, she saw everything that would transpire. Her brother and her cousin, most likely accompanied by Jonathan Bennet, would most definitely come to hers and Lydia's rescue. She doubted very much that they intended to pay any ransom, but when they had found them, what would happen? Lydia would tell Jonathan about her history with Wickham, and he would see her as a weak, gullible fool. Then Lydia would tell them all about her role in capturing Georgiana, and that coupled with the bruises Wickham had no doubt left on her face would undoubtedly send Fitzwilliam, and probably Robert, into a frenzy of rage. Fitzwilliam would never marry anyone who was involved in harming his family, however indirectly. And it was not Elizabeth's, or even Lydia's fault. Poor Lydia had been deceived as much as anyone, and she had tried to protect her brother. Georgiana knew that her brother must be made to see everything in that light. She imagined presenting that argument to Fitzwilliam in all his formidable anger, and shivered as she pictured his reaction. No, the situation seemed in every way ruinous. Tears streamed down her face.
"I don't like the situation at all," Colonel Fitzwilliam announced. He, Darcy, the Messrs. Bennet, and Mr. Gardiner were gathered in a drawing room to formulate a plan of action.
Darcy sent his cousin a sharp glance. "Why, Rob," he said sardonically, "I am surprised at you. The rest of us are enjoying ourselves quite thoroughly."
Fitzwilliam glared at him. "I mean that this is much too simple. There is no mystery. We know who took them, what he wants, and how to communicate with him. He seems to have gone to a great deal of trouble, and the amount of money he desires is not very large. A total of ten thousand pounds? Why, Georgiana's fortune alone is three times that amount."
"I agree with the colonel; he has something else in mind," Jonathan said. "What it is, I am at a loss to know."
"His choice of victims is, at best, eccentric," Mr. Gardiner said. "What connections are there between your families that would make him choose these two young women? Other than the friendship between Miss Darcy and Lizzy, I see nothing."
Darcy cleared his throat and looked at Mr. Bennet, embarrassed. "Actually, sir, I have asked Miss Elizabeth to marry me and meant to ask you for her hand, but the circumstances..."
"Yes, yes, young man, I give my consent. You two certainly took long enough to come to the point," Mr. Bennet said with an impatient wave of his hand. "But that still does not tell me why I am missing my youngest daughter instead of my second."
"His motive must be revenge," Darcy said. "There is no love lost between Mr. Wickham and myself."
"But what of us?" Mr. Bennet asked. "I have barely spoken ten words to the man. Have you or any of the girls offered him insult, Jon?"
"Not that I can remember," Jon said, rubbing his temples.
A knock sounded on the door, and they all looked up.
"Enter!" Darcy called.
Elizabeth crept into the room, her eyes red with crying. Darcy longed to go to her and take her in his arms, but restrained himself.
"I could not but overhear," she said quietly, and I think that I might know why our family has been targeted."
"Do you?" Mr. Gardiner asked.
"Perhaps. You see - it's difficult to say to you all - Mr. Wickham - well, he believed me to be encouraging him..."
"Encouraging him? In what way?" her father asked in a dangerous voice.
"Of course, I never did," she protested, the colour in her cheeks heightening, "but he - well - he made me a sort of proposition, and when I gave him to understand that he had greatly misinterpreted my behaviour to him, he was not best pleased."
Mr. Bennet looked grim. "I am sorry, Lizzy. But however disappointed Wickham may have been, why Lydia? It makes no sense at all."
They were interrupted once again by a knock on the door. Hayes stepped in.
"Pardon me, sirs, but a boy has just arrived with a message for you all." Hayes handed a note to his master, who had leapt to his feet.
"Robert, follow him," Darcy said tersely. His cousin nodded once and strode out of the room.
"Surely the colonel will draw the boy's notice," said Mr. Bennet.
"If he can lose Rob, he is not of this world." Darcy smiled grimly and turned back to the note he held in his hand. After reading it through twice, he handed it to Mr. Bennet. "As you can see, Wickham suspected that we would work together."
"He has established a meeting place," Mr. Bennet sighed. "We are to bring the money with us, and he will return the girls to us in due time."
"Pen a response," Darcy instructed him. "Agree to all his terms."
Mr. Bennet and Jonathan looked at him, aghast. "You don't mean to say that you are going to give in to this man?" demanded Mr. Bennet. "Ten thousand pounds may be a paltry sum to you, young man, but with five grown-up daughters - and with two on the verge of matrimony - I can hardly spare half such a sum."
"Of course I don't mean to pay him," Darcy said. "But in such cases as these, it is perhaps best to appear to comply. He may then grow careless."
"We cannot work this out ourselves," sighed Mr. Gardiner. "You, Jonathan, and the colonel may be ready to jump into action, but my brother and I are past our prime of life."
"What we need," Jonathan mused, "is a trap." He turned to his father. "If you, the colonel, and my uncle will meet Mr. Wickham at the designated place, Colonel Fitzwilliam will be able, as a higher officer in His Majesty's Army, to detain him. Mr. Darcy and I will retrieve our sisters."
"Good Lord, my boy, there may be something in that," Mr. Bennet exclaimed.
"It is an excellent plan," Darcy smiled, "and as soon as Rob comes back, we will put it into action."
"And yet there is still something missing," said Elizabeth, whom the men had nearly forgotten.
"Do you see a problem, my dear?" her father asked.
"Not precisely," she replied, a frown furrowing her brow. "But I cannot help but feel that it is all too simple. Mr. Wickham is no fool. The simplicity of the case is more than a little frightening. He must be planning something - but what?"
Mr. Bennet and Mr. Gardiner, accompanied by Col. Fitzwilliam at his most forbidding, waited by the designated tree in the Park for Wickham. Darcy and Jonathan stood nearly hidden, several blocks away, watching the doorway of a nondescript sort of house. As soon as Mr. Wickham - yes, it was unmistakably he - exited the building and rounded the corner, they charged the front door and demanded entrance. The little man who answered the door at first roundly refused to admit them, but a twenty-pound note soon changed his mind, and they hurried up to the second floor.
As they marched up and down the corridor, a door halfway down the hall opened, and a familiar face with a great deal of curly hair looked out.
"Jon!" she cried. "This is unexpected! I thought you were to meet with dear George to discuss our wedding!"
" 'Dear George?' 'Discuss your wedding?' Lydia, have you taken leave of your senses?" exclaimed her brother.
"Miss Lydia, we are relieved to find you in one piece," Darcy intervened. "Is my sister...?"
"Oh, you have come, have you?" Lydia interrupted, throwing him a look of contempt. "Well, I cannot say that I'm surprised. I daresay you wouldn't have gone to such trouble if it was only me in supposed danger."
"Georgiana - where is she?"
"In there," Lydia gestured vaguely. She turned to her brother as Mr. Darcy shouldered past her. "Jonathan, I have something to tell you, and you won't like it at all."
From inside the room, Darcy's hoarse cry of horror pierced him. It was only then that Jonathan realized that Lydia, if she had been detained against her will, would hardly have been permitted to run free.
"Lydia," he whispered. "What have you done?"
Chapter 38
"I have done nothing wrong, Jon, and I wish you would stop gaping at me like a fish out of water," Lydia snapped. "Georgiana Darcy is the most horrid little thing I ever laid eyes on. Do you know why she left Netherfield so quickly last fall? Because George had come! Last summer, she let him court her and agreed to elope with him, but at the last moment her brother appeared. George was duped! They now have something with which to threaten him, Jon, and they were preparing to do the same to you!"
"You must be mistaken, Lydia," Jonathan insisted. "Miss Darcy is incapable of deceit, and her brother abhors it."
"I tried to help you, Jon. They were going to trap you! Make you compromise her!"
"Help me? How did you..." his voice trailed away as Mr. Darcy led his sister out of the room. She hid her face against his waistcoat, but he could see at least two bruises on her cheeks. "Oh, my God, Lydia," he choked.
Darcy looked up at him, his eyes ablaze with fury. "Your sister assisted in this," he said in a dangerously quiet voice.
"Darcy - good God..."
"It is her fault!" he said, his voice rising.
"Fitzwilliam ... no..." Georgiana whispered. "You must not blame her; he is so persuasive..."
"No one with proper feeling," he continued with a look of pure venom, "would subject another human being to such pain."
"Fitzwilliam..." his sister said more strongly.
"Such superb actors!" Lydia taunted her. "I declare I might almost believe you myself."
Darcy looked purple with rage, but turned on his heel and walked off with his sister wedged tightly under his arm.
Elizabeth cautiously entered Darcy's study, uncertain of what she would face. Mr. Wickham had been captured and detained, and their sisters restored to them. Lydia had been told of the true circumstances surrounding Wickham's and Georgiana's history, but was not nearly penitent enough to satisfy anyone but her mother. Georgiana had recovered more quickly than anyone had been able to imagine possible, and had forgiven Lydia far more freely than anyone believed Lydia deserved. And still Mr. Darcy had yet to speak a single word to his fiancée.
He had finally asked to see her in the study, but with such a grave air that she felt sure no good could come from this interview. As she entered, she saw him standing near the window, gazing out into the street.
"You wished to see me, Mr. Darcy?" she asked, and then wished that she could begin again. She hated to sound frightened.
"Elizabeth." He sighed and turned to face her. "Elizabeth, I am under the painful necessity of - rethinking our current agreement."
Her chin tilted upward and she felt her old spirit rise again. "You wish to end our engagement."
"I do not wish to, Elizabeth, but I must consider it," he corrected her, sounding weary. "Had I only my own happiness and well-being to think of, there would be no question, but Georgiana..."
"You blame me for my sister's role in Georgiana's ordeal?"
"I do not blame you, Elizabeth; I place the blame where it truly lies. But you must see that I cannot expose my sister to such a malicious influence."
"And yet you let her consort with Caroline Bingley and her ilk," Elizabeth insisted.
"Georgiana is delicate."
"Georgiana is a young woman with strength and character. You do her a great injustice if you believe her to be a china doll, easily cracked by..."
"I will not argue this with you, Elizabeth," he interrupted her harshly. "She is my sister, and I shall decide how best to raise her. She has survived thus far without your care."
"Indeed, you haven't made a single mistake," Elizabeth said sarcastically. "Only that you neglected her at a time when she was beginning to grow into feelings that she did not understand, and then would not allow her, or anyone near her, to talk of the ordeal that she so narrowly escaped."
"Georgiana has grown up appreciating the best of everything, including the company she keeps," Darcy said roughly. "I cannot allow her standards to sink - I have given her too much freedom on that score already."
The words fell as if a blow to her face. Pale with pain and shock, Elizabeth stepped backward and watched as the import of his own words struck him.
"My God - Elizabeth - I..."
"Spare yourself, Mr. Darcy," she snapped. "I would prefer not to hear your voice at present." She turned and stormed from the room. He followed her, but was frozen in his tracks when a familiar, and completely unwelcome, voice flooded the Townhouse.
"Where is my nephew? I demand to see him at once!"
As he turned the corner into the entry hall, he saw Elizabeth facing a formidable lady, dressed in the grandest fashion, and looking down her hawk-like nose at the pale and angry Elizabeth.
"Who are you?" she demanded imperiously.
"Ah," Darcy interrupted weakly. "This is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Aunt. Miss Bennet, I present my aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh."
"So you are the chit, are you?" barked her Ladyship, now staring at Elizabeth with intense dislike. "I have a word or two to say to you, if you please, before I speak with my nephew. Will you excuse us, Darcy?"
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, but she studiously avoided his gaze. Swallowing an inexplicable lump in his throat, he nodded his consent to his aunt. She swept away into a nearby drawing room, with Elizabeth directly behind her.
"I shall not mince words, Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine said as soon as the door had been shut on them. "A report of a most alarming nature reached me a few days ago. I was told that you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had somehow managed to ensnare my nephew into an engagement. I did not believe it possible, and yet I find you here under his very roof."
"I was invited by Georgiana," Elizabeth said stiffly.
"You will address her as Miss Darcy, if you please. I do not tolerate impertinence in anyone." Lady Catherine took a deep breath. "Miss Bennet, I am here to tell you that I do not approve of your proposed union with my nephew, and I never shall. You are too different. My Anne is formed for him in every way, and I am sure that he will see the right of it once you have been on your way."
"I hope Mr. Darcy realizes how extraordinarily attentive you are to his concerns," Elizabeth said dryly.
"He does not appreciate my help as much as you might imagine. It is sometimes very hard to persuade him to see reason."
"I am very well aware of that," Elizabeth murmured.
"Now, Miss Bennet, you seem a sensible sort of girl. Certainly you cannot believe that your marriage would be beneficial to either of you? I understand that you are not destitute yourself - your brother necessarily blocks the entail from your father's cousin..." Elizabeth dared not ask how her ladyship had obtained such personal information "...but I can readily see that a marriage to my nephew would be a great temptation. He is handsome and rich. I am therefore prepared to compensate you for your loss, when you have broken the engagement."
Elizabeth's cheeks reddened. "You wish to pay me off? You are offering me a bribe to cast aside your nephew? I would be worthy of my own worst contempt were I even to consider such an offer."
"Oh, come, girl; you cannot imagine that you will be happy," snapped her ladyship. "You are not the sort of woman that Fitzwilliam is used to. A gentleman of his station needs a woman who will agree with him in everything and supply him with an heir."
"I happen to disagree. Were Mr. Darcy to take such a wife, he would be utterly bored within a month."
"You must see reason, Miss Bennet," Lady Catherine persisted, her face growing redder and her eyes glittering. "Your alliance would be a disgrace. Your name would never be mentioned by any of us. He would be shunned from all of the society he is accustomed to, and you would be no better for it."
"If that is so, I should not consider it as being at all important. If society is so unreasonable, I shan't be bothered with it."
"Understand me, missy," Lady Catherine said more loudly. "The situation of your family is deplorable, and the characters of your parents questionable. My clergyman has had the best opportunity of observing you all, and has affirmed that not only are your parents negligent and your sisters uneducated and unrestrained, but that you yourself are as malicious a little fortune huntress as was ever born. Always aiming higher than your station! I understand you, Miss Bennet. Even if you cannot marry him, I know that your arts and allurements will drive him to commit breaches of morality that would shame his father and his dear mother!"
The door burst open with a bang, and her nephew stormed into the room. "I have heard quite enough from you, Aunt," Darcy snarled. "I am ashamed to claim you as my relation." He turned to Elizabeth. "Elizabeth, I beg you to forgive me for my words a few moments hence. I was angry, and said things that I did not mean. Georgiana and I have been blessed since the moment you entered into our lives, and after this," he gestured at his aunt, who stood gaping at him, "display from one of my nearest relations, I can no longer..."
"That is enough, young man!" Lady Catherine cried. "She is beguiling you already! You must break away from her..."
"I have tried, and found that I could not, Aunt," he said softly, and Elizabeth felt her anger slowly draining. "Can you forgive me, Elizabeth?"
"Of course," she replied with a smile.
Lady Catherine gasped. "Darcy, know that if you insist in this utter foolishness, you are no longer any relation of mine!"
"I would consider that a great wedding gift, Aunt," he replied tartly.
"You are henceforth banned from Rosings Park," her ladyship said, her breath quickening. "I will never acknowledge your existence! Rest assured that every person I meet shall know the full story of your betrayal and her treachery. You will never be accepted by respectable people, Darcy - you or your sister! When you come to your senses, and I pray God that day will not come too late, I may consider admitting you into my presence again, but do not look for a union with Anne - she shall be given to someone far more deserving of her!" And with that final parting shot, Lady Catherine swept out of the townhouse.
"Rob will thank me for that," Darcy said after a few moment's silence. Elizabeth laughed.
"Elizabeth," he said seriously, turning to her. "I cannot express adequately how very sorry I am for what I said to you in the study. I must confess that until I heard what my aunt said to you - suffice it to say that I have realized that I have often exposed Georgiana to far more vicious characters than your sister. Lydia is young and foolish, and I am sure that she truly wished to protect her brother. Nobody understands better than Ana or I how completely Wickham can manipulate a person."
"You hurt me, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said, her face very sober.
"I know, my dear, and I will do my best never to do so again."
"You cannot promise that," she replied with a smile. "We will argue - it is in our natures. And we will say hurtful things to each other in the heat of a moment. What I want you to promise, is that you will always stand by me even when I am most headstrong."
"I promise; and you must promise to stand by me when I am stubborn and blind."
"I shall never leave your side," Elizabeth teased him. He smiled and lifted her hand to his lips.
When Hayes happened to pass by a few moments later, he smiled at the sight within and very quietly closed the door.
Chapter 39
Georgiana rapped lightly on the door of the bedroom that Lydia shared with Kitty. She clasped her hands nervously, drawing deep breaths to calm herself. The door swung open, revealing a tousled, red-eyed Lydia.
"I wonder if I could speak to you, Miss Lydia," Georgiana said quietly.
"What do you want?" was the surly reply. "I'm amazed your brother let you out of your tower to see the likes of me."
"Fitzwilliam is my brother, not my jailer. I wished to see you, so I came."
"Well, you can go away. I know what you are, and if you came to deliver a sermon like the rest of my dear family, I shall laugh."
"I am the last person who would wish to preach to you," Georgiana said firmly. "I only want to talk. Please, may I come in?"
Lydia stared at her for a few seconds, and then stepped back. Georgiana entered and sat near the fire while Lydia reclined lazily on a sopha.
Georgiana drew a shaky breath. "Have you heard from..."
"From my George?" Lydia interrupted maliciously. "Not yet, but I will."
"I hope you will not be disappointed."
"Of course I won't! Why would I be?"
Georgiana sighed. "Mr. Wickham is not known for keeping his promises."
"Well, neither are you, Miss Darcy!" Lydia snapped.
"What do you mean?"
"You promised to marry George, and then you cried off! He told me all about it."
Georgiana did not recognize her own laugh. It was dry and brittle. "I rather doubt that."
"I am quite tired of everyone mocking me," Lydia said vehemently. "George loves me!"
"He told you that, I am sure."
"Yes, he did!"
"And that you were a woman whose family refused to let you grow up."
"Yes!"
"And that he had never loved anyone as he loved you."
"Yes..." Lydia eyed her warily. "How did you know that?"
Georgiana smiled sadly. "He said the same to me."
Lydia gaped at her. "You're lying."
Georgiana's eyes flashed with a spark of her brother's formidable temper. "I have tolerated many accusations from you, Miss Lydia, but never call me a liar! I have made many mistakes, and I have countless faults, but deceit is not one of them!"
"And what do you call trapping poor George as you did?" Lydia demanded.
"I, trap George Wickham!" Georgiana gasped. "I was a girl of fifteen, Miss Lydia, with no experience of the world outside of school and my own family. How could I trap him?"
"Did not you write to him when you were at school?"
"Never, and if he said I did, I should like to see the letters. For five years I never laid eyes on him. Then, last summer, he reappeared at Ramsgate, the most handsome and agreeable man I had ever seen. Within a few short days I was very much in love with him, and I agreed to elope with him."
"You never loved him," Lydia scoffed. "You cried off. You would have done as he asked if you had loved him."
"Indeed I would have," Georgiana said solemnly, meeting Lydia's eyes. "If Fitzwilliam had not joined us unexpectedly, I would now perhaps be Mrs. George Wickham, and one of the most miserable creatures in existence. More likely, though, he would never have married me at all, and my character as well as my heart would be in shreds."
Lydia huffed. "Your character - what does that signify?"
"It means a great deal."
Lydia rolled her eyes.
Georgiana bit her lip, praying for patience. "You do wish to marry, don't you, Miss Lydia?"
"Of course! Especially if I could marry before all my sisters. It would be such a lark!"
"I wish to marry, too."
"Oh, you will, I'm sure. Jon is madly in love with you, you know."
"Well, I don't know anything about that," Georgiana answered, blushing, "but my point is that if I had run away with Mr. Wickham and he had refused to marry me, I would now have no prospects of marrying anyone."
"Really? Why?"
"Because, Miss Lydia, no good man wants to marry a young woman of questionable morals."
"Oh, pish-posh! There are dozens of soldiers from the --- Regiment who are violently in love with me, just as I am!"
"Have any of them proposed?"
Lydia paused, thinking this over. "No." Georgiana looked away, hoping Lydia would reach a conclusion on her own. "So," Lydia said at last, slowly, "if I want to get married, I need to act like you and Jane and Lizzy. But Lizzy laughs and jokes and teases! Why has she caught a husband?"
"Miss Lydia, it is much more than acting the part."
"I don't see why. Once you've caught your husband he can't give you back, so you are free to act as you please."
"But don't you wish to make your husband happy?"
"Oh, he'll be vastly happy, as long as he gives me my own way. I intend to let him know that from the start."
Georgiana sighed. "Well, if that is truly how you feel, there is nothing else I have to say." She rose. "I'll say good day, Miss Lydia."
Lydia stood as well. "Miss Darcy, please - I am sorry about everything with Mr. Wickham. I hope you won't freeze me out."
"Of course I won't, Miss Lydia. We are to be sisters, after all."
"How I shall laugh when I tell Harriet and Pen," Lydia grinned. "To have such in-laws! They'll die of jealousy."
Georgiana told no one of her interview with Lydia, as she was sure of raising unnecessary concern and dissatisfaction if she imparted the details. Instead, she contented herself with reflecting that she had done her best, and turned her attention on her brother's nuptial arrangements with extreme pleasure.
The sisters had positively insisted on a double wedding, and were doubly immersed in flower arrangements, coiffures, and invitations. Arrangements for the wedding party remained exactly the same, except that Georgiana now required an escort down the aisle. It was agreed that Mr. Hurst would step in to escort Mary, and Georgiana would take her place at her cousin's side. Miss Bingley had politely but resolutely refused to be a bridesmaid, and Mrs. Hurst found her husband unusually insistent on attending to his duties as brother-in-law.
With the gentler sex so absorbed with these important matters, the gentlemen were left with very little to do. Darcy and Bingley suffered continuous jeers and congratulations - both equally embarrassing - from the members of their clubs and chose to remain in the library of Darcy's townhouse, out of reach of the mania overtaking the household, often joined by the Messrs. Bennet and Col. Fitzwilliam.
"I thank God you two have agreed to your fiancées' wishes," Mr. Bennet sighed, accepting a glass of port wine from one of his future sons-in-law. "I couldn't endure this nonsense twice in one year."
"To say that we agreed would imply that we had some choice in the matter," Darcy said dryly, taking a seat near the fire. "As I remember it, Elizabeth simply looked me in the eye, said 'Jane and I have agreed on a double wedding,' and went back to whatever book she was absorbed in at the time."
Bingley chuckled. "Jane was slightly more subtle. She asked me if I didn't think it would be a wonderful idea to be married at the same time as Darcy and her sister, trying to give me the impression that I could disagree if I chose. I knew better."
Jonathan shook his head. "You'll both have your hands full. Jane will manipulate Bingley so completely he won't even be aware of it, and Lizzy..."
"Is a force unto her own," Darcy completed with a grin.
Everyone laughed, but stopped abruptly when a knock sounded on the door.
"Don't answer," Mr. Bennet said fearfully. "It could be Mrs. Bennet, seeking our opinions on flower arrangements."
Darcy laughed. "Not likely. Enter!"
A footman entered, carrying a note on a silver tray. "For Col. Fitzwilliam, sir," he said. Darcy took the note and handed it to his bewildered cousin, who took it and glanced at the direction. His face blanched.
"Good Lord," he said quietly. "'Tis from our Aunt Catherine."
Chapter Forty
When last Col. Robert Fitzwilliam had spoken to his aunt Catherine, he had been scolded for his presumption in asking to marry Anne, and ordered not to return. Now, however, he stood puzzled in front of her townhouse door, scrutinizing the cursory letter in his hand.
Nephew,Wait upon your cousin and myself today at 3:00. You have been sadly lacking in your attention this year.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh
The butler showed him into the drawing room, where Lady Catherine, Anne, and Mrs. Jenkins sat in gloomy silence. Robert greeted his aunt calmly. “Good day, Aunt.”
“It is not a good day,” she contradicted directly, “and you would do well not to speak so flippantly.” The colonel mumbled an apology and sat, studiously avoiding Anne’s eye. Her ladyship took a few moments to reflect before continuing. “Your cousin’s defection has dealt my daughter a terrible blow. You can see how deeply she is affected.” Robert nodded in agreement, not daring to look at the lady in question. “Still, despite her disappointment, she must marry.” His eyes widened, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. “Your brother has, of course, chosen his Viscountess already. However, you yet remain unattached. If you are still so inclined, you may try your hand at persuading Anne to transfer her affections to you. The Fitzwilliam name is just as ancient and respected as that of Darcy, if not more so.”
Blinking rapidly in disbelief, Robert looked at Anne, whose hand had risen to excuse a brief coughing fit. She met her cousin’s eyes, her own twinkling momentarily, before returning her gaze to her lap.
“Y-your ladyship is most gracious,” Robert stammered. “If my cousin has no objections…”
“Anne knows what is expected of her, unlike my ungrateful nephew,” Lady Catherine answered sharply. “You will excuse me.” Abruptly she rose and sailed out of the room.
When she was gone, Anne whispered in her companion’s ear, and Mrs. Jenkinson left with great haste. As soon as she was out of sight, Anne rose and hurried to Robert with outstretched hands.
“Oh, Robert, if you could have seen your face!” she whispered, her eyes shining with mirth. “You looked as if you’d been pole-axed!”
“I felt as if I had,” he answered, lightly squeezing her hands. “She certainly surprised me.”
“Have your mother invite me to stay with her in London. Mother means to leave at the end of the week, and I couldn’t bear to go away now.”
“I’ll have her try, but dear Aunt Cat is not very fond of her sister at the moment.”
“Because she condones Darcy’s engagement.” Anne bit her lip, considering. “What of my uncle? Would he carry more weight?”
“We’ll manage something, m’love.” He lifted her hand to his lips. “I take it you will, er, allow me to persuade you to transfer your affections?”
Anne gave a rather unladylike snort. “My mother…Any transfer will be completely unnecessary, I assure you.” Robert tried to draw her closer, but she resisted him, laughing softly. “Mrs. Jenkinson will return soon – I sent her for my wrap.”
He sulked. “I hope that woman doesn’t expect to attend you forever.”
“Oh, of course she does. Mother would insist.”
Your mother can…”
“Sh!”
Robert growled. “I’d best leave, my dear. My mother will write to invite you as soon as possible.” And kissing her hand, he made a hasty exit.
Lady Matlock laughed when her youngest son described the afternoon’s events to her.
“Are you engaged, then?” she asked when her mirth had subsided.
“Not yet,” he answered. “I think it best to court her mother’s favor at first.”
“And yet acting quickly has its advantages when it comes to Catherine,” her ladyship mused. “Tomorrow she may intend Anne for a convent.”
Robert blanched. “You don’t think…”
“Oh, no, Anne is her heir, after all, and must one day produce an heir herself – but a journey to the Continent would not be surprising…”
“God forbid.” Her son shuddered. “We must save poor Anne from such a terrible fate.”
“I suppose I must invite her,” her ladyship mused. “It must be true, what they say about a wedding producing more of the same: Miss Bennet and Mr. Bingley, Miss Elizabeth and Darcy, and now you and Anne.”
“Darcy suspects Jonathan Bennet of having designs on Georgiana.”
Lady Fitzwilliam snorted. “‘Designs’ indeed! Jon Bennet is the least designing boy I’ve ever met.”
Robert frowned. “Even so, she is far too young…”
“I’m not saying I wish them married tomorrow, so don’t scowl so.” Her ladyship took up a pen and began her note to her sister. “When your father finds out about this, he’ll cry with relief. We’d nearly given up on you – thought you a confirmed bachelor.”
“Until Fitz met Miss Elizabeth, so had I,” her son answered.
“He would never have come to the point. He owes his present happiness to more…adventurous people. That boy thinks too much for his own good.”
Jonathan hid in his future brother-in-law’s library, scanning the well-stocked and well-organized bookshelves. The townhouse the Bennets had taken was overflowing with seamstresses and florists, and he deemed himself superfluous to the arrangements and had made himself scarce.
Only Darcy, he mused, would have organized his library so thoroughly. Jonathan thought that, without a doubt, if a single book went missing the owner would notice immediately and send a well-trained servant in search of the thief. Chuckling to himself at the image of the staid butler tearing through the house with a butterfly net, he reached up, plucked a volume off the shelves, and ensconced himself very comfortably on a sofa.
The door opened, and Jonathan hastily closed the book and got to his feet. Darcy walked in, one hand massaging the bridge of his nose as he closed the door. When he looked up, he smiled weakly.
“Ah, Bennet. I didn’t know you were here.”
“I managed to escape,” Jonathan said with a grin. “And you?”
“I’ve only just returned,” Darcy answered wearily, sinking down into one of the larger armchairs. “Had I only been aware of all the preparation involved with a wedding, I would have…” He trailed off, looking up at warily at Jonathan’s face, which wore a wry smile.
“Eloped, I would suspect,” he finished for him.
Darcy’s face reddened slightly. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“I wouldn’t be in the least surprised.” Jonathan returned to his seat on the sofa. “Though I could never have allowed such a step.”
“No, of course not.”
Silence reigned.
“Bennet…”
“Jon.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Call me Jon. Or Jonathan.”
Darcy paused. “Jonathan. I wish to speak to you about my sister.”
Jon’s fingers clenched around the book he held in his hand. “Concerning what, exactly?”
“I know you are fond of her.”
“I have yet to meet anyone who has met her who is not fond of her.”
“Let me finish. I do not rely on my own powers of perception in this case – they have been erroneous before. I owe my information to a more reliable source.” Lizzy, Jon thought darkly. “And no, the source is not your sister.”
“Then who…?” Jonathan silenced himself quickly.
“Who does not matter. What does matter is this: Georgiana is too young to become engaged.” Jonathan met Darcy’s eyes. “She is too impressionable, too naïve. You know now of past occurrences, and she is still full young to know when she does and does not love. She does not understand the difference between love and infatuation. She…”
“…is perfectly capable of knowing her own mind!” Jonathan found himself interjecting, rising to his feet. “You underestimate her, Darcy. I have not addressed her as yet, because I know that were I to do so, she would say that she was too young. She does not need this protection.”
“As a brother, it is my duty to protect her as much as possible.”
“But not to insulate her.” Darcy opened his mouth to protest, but Jonathan hurried on. “Were I some upstart intent on a good fortune, your warning might perhaps be called for, but I am no such person. When Miss Darcy enters society next year, she will be inundated with admirers, and you will not always be present to flush out the genuine from the fortune hunters. You might wish to allow her the opportunity to decide for herself.”
“Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said frostily, “it is I, with some help from my cousin Robert, who have raised my sister all these years. She looks up to me almost as if I were her father, and I cannot prove that trust in me misplaced. I will continue to protect her interests in any way I see fit, and it is not for you to determine how I shall do so!”
Jonathan began to say something, but was too angry to reply sensibly. Instead, he pushed past his future brother-in-law and stormed from the library. In the hall, he nearly trod upon someone who, at that moment, he least wished to see – someone with blonde curls and luminous blue eyes.
“Miss Darcy!” His face turning red, he could say little more.
“Mr. Bennet!”
“You…
“I…”
“Pray continue.”
Miss Darcy looked at the floor, and then met his eyes. “I have never thanked you, Mr. Bennet.”
“Thanked me, Miss Darcy?” Jonathan eyed the front door with longing.
“Yes, for…for your services to me. The incident with Mr. Wickham…your bravery…”
“Do not thank me, Miss Darcy,” he said formally. “I did no more than any man would have done on the occasion.”
“I do not agree with you,” she insisted, drawing his eyes back to hers. “I feel that I must thank you, and take great pleasure in doing so. There is little more gratifying than the expression of gratitude, you know.”
“Very noble sentiment. Some, I believe, consider gratitude little more than obligation, and its expression nothing short of irritating.”
Georgiana blushed, covered in confusion at his brusque tone. “That may be true, but when gratitude is sincerely felt, one feels no ‘obligation’ to express it. It is a matter of enjoyment.”
“If you will excuse me…” Jonathan tried to edge around her, but she put a restraining hand on his arm.
“I don’t think you fully understand,” she said a little desperately. “Until last summer my acquaintance with Mr. Wickham was so trifling, and my knowledge of the world so little, that…I do not believe that I ever…he told me I felt so, and I was simple enough to believe him…”
“Please, Miss Darcy, you have no reason to explain yourself to me,” Jonathan said, feeling some desperation himself. “No one need understand your reasons and your feelings as well as you do yourself. If you will excuse me, I believe my father will be wanting me.” He turned and strode down the hall and out of the front door, leaving a very confused and slightly mortified young lady behind him.
Chapter Forty-One
Georgiana Darcy stared in bewilderment as Jonathan Bennet walked away from her, his stride long and hurried. She had never seen such a stormy expression on his normally cheerful face, and wished that she could understand what she could have done to make him scowl so. She had half a mind to follow him and demand explanation, but her pride – she had her fair share of the Darcy pride, after all – forbade it.
Shaking off her confusion, she continued up the stairs to the music room to begin practicing the pianoforte. Elizabeth and Miss Bennet – Jane – had very kindly asked her to play a piece or two at the small party Mrs. Bennet had arranged for the night before the wedding. Uneasy as she was performing in front of strangers, Georgiana was even more unwilling to disappoint friends who had been so kind to her.
Placing her fingers on the ivory keys, Georgiana soon transported herself into the elegant, melodious world that always surrounded her when she played. Georgiana had learned several years ago that music had the power to relax and soothe her mind; she had come to depend upon her pianoforte and her harp as her best sources of comfort, aside from her brother. Fitzwilliam, however, would soon have other matters to care for, and while she knew that no one could take her place in her brother’s affections, she knew that inevitably her importance must give way for a brief time to the more immediate and novel concerns of newly wedded life.
Unconsciously her fingers transitioned from the sonata she planned on performing for her future sister-in-law into a new tune, a melody of minor arpeggios played so lightly and airily that their melancholy seemed somehow cheerful. Georgiana knew that she had never played this particular melody before; her fingers were making music of their own, and suddenly her musical world had changed. She felt at once more empowered and less in control, breathless in anticipation of where her music – her own music – would lead her next.
Darcy, stewing in his library over the words of young Bennet, heard the familiar strains of the sonata and was somewhat calmed by them. His sister’s playing always served as a soothing agent, and he took great pride in her ability and her diligence. When the notes changed, however, they introduced a disturbing sensation that he could not quite name. He had never heard her play this tune before, and rising, he approached the parlor.
He stood in the door and observed his sister, her face relaxed and concentrated as her delicate hands danced above the keys. No music sat on the instrument, and her eyes were closed; the notes came ever so haltingly, as if she were not quite sure which note would come next. Suddenly a discordant note jarred the harmony, and her brow furrowed slightly as she repeated the passage, searching for the proper cadence. She found it, and then her hands dropped from the keys and she sighed, a secret smile on her lips. Turning her head ever so slightly, she started when she recognized her audience.
“Goodness, Fitzwilliam,” she said, one hand going to her heart. “You startled me.”
“Not my intention, I assure you.” Darcy moved forward and sat on the bench beside her. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you play that particular song before. Is it new?”
“Yes and no,” Georgiana demurred. “I do not believe that I’ve ever heard it before either.”
Darcy pondered this strange declaration. “Do you mean to say that you… composed that piece, my dear?”
Absently she reached out and stroked the keys. “I do not know if ‘composed’ is the correct word, brother. I only played. I don’t know if I could remember it to play again.”
“Will you try?”
Hesitantly Georgiana touched the instrument again, and slowly, but more confidently, the nameless song returned. Darcy listened more closely and recognized the tones of love, heartbreak and healing; checking his reaction, he watched as Georgiana finished, looking very pleased with herself.
“I did remember it!” she said with a smile.
“And very lovely it was, Ana,” he answered. For a moment they were silent, and then Darcy suddenly rose and walked to the fireplace. “I know,” he began haltingly, “that of late we have not spoken with the lack of reserve that was our wont. I claim a good deal of the blame for that; your friendship with Elizabeth has given me such pleasure that I have encouraged your confidence in her to such a degree that I fear you no longer have need of confiding in me.”
Georgiana began to protest, but could not find the words. She wondered if perhaps he was right.
“I would very much like to be in your confidence again, Ana,” he said frankly and with some emotion, turning to face her. “I have lately been dependent on others for information about your thoughts and your feelings and I must tell you that I do not care for it.”
Blinking back tears, Georgiana studied her hands and then looked up and met her brother’s eyes. “I do not know how to tell you some things, Fitzwilliam. You are so good to me that I feel guilty expressing displeasure, and think so highly of me that I am afraid of lowering your opinion.”
Darcy sighed as he took a seat on the sofa. “I am sorry that I have ever made you uncomfortable. I want to talk to you, Ana, and have you talk to me.”
“There is so much to say that I don’t know where to begin,” Georgiana said slowly. “Is there anything in particular you wish to know?”
“There is…but I am afraid that the subject will pain you.”
“You fear too often that you will pain me,” she said with a gently chiding smile. “I am not so delicate that I cannot withstand some pain.”
“I wish to know about…Wickham.”
Georgiana looked more confused than pained, much to Darcy’s surprise. “Mr. Wickham? You know all about Mr. Wickham, Fitzwilliam; you were there, after all.”
“I know of what transpired, of course, but I have often wondered…that is, I wish to know…whether you really loved him.”
“I have considered that question often,” his sister mused, “and I cannot arrive at any definite conclusion. At times I recall how I felt in his presence and how much his betrayal pained me, and I think that I must have loved him; at others I remember what effort he expended to convince me that I loved him, and think that perhaps I was merely tricked into believing that I was in love.” She paused and stared thoughtfully into space for a few minutes. “But, really, if a woman has been persuaded to believe herself in love, is her love any less real? She feels, I believe, exactly as others do. In short,” Georgiana stopped her ramblings with a little sigh, “I do not know whether I really loved him. At any rate, I no longer do, so it is of little importance.”
“I have feared that his treachery would poison you against men forever.”
“And so it did, for a time. You and Richard appeared to me the only human beings I could truly rely on; then you procured Mrs. Annesley for me, and I began to trust again. I began to know Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst and discovered that not all men are vicious and underhanded. I met Elizabeth and discovered that true friendship did exist.”
“And her brother?”
Georgiana’s delicate complexion took on a decidedly rosier hue. “I met Mr. Jonathan and found that…that some men can be patient and understanding.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Have I not been…”
“Oh, certainly, you have, Fitzwilliam! But Mr. Jonathan’s patience is…that is to say, his is not exactly of the same kind…” Poor Georgiana now looked as if she wished to sink through the floor.
“Has Bennet addressed you?” Darcy’s incredulity – not to mention anger – brought a flush to his own face.
“Well, not exactly…”
“Not exactly?”
“He…he told me that he admired me and wished to continue our friendship…and that he would ask nothing more of me.”
“So he did not make you an offer?”
“No. He did not.”
“All the better for him,” Darcy muttered darkly.
Georgiana’s eyes widened. “Have you something against Mr. Jonathan?”
“Well, no, but…you are so young, my dear. I would not wish to give you away just yet.”
“But if I wished to be given away?”
“Do you wish it?”
The question was so bluntly put that Georgiana was silenced for several seconds. At length, she replied, “No. Not at the moment. However…I cannot deny that my friendship with Mr. Jonathan…that is to say that I have lately begun to think that…that I may be beginning to love him.”
Emotions rushed through Darcy – rage, disbelief, and a profound sadness – leaving him rather pale and feeling a little exhausted. “Is Bennet aware of your…regard?” he asked with an astonishing degree of equanimity.
“I cannot imagine that he is,” Georgiana answered, a frown marring her brow as she recollected his treatment of her earlier that afternoon. She shook her head slightly. “You must not spend so much time worrying over me, Fitzwilliam. You are to be married very soon, and will have better things to think of than your baby sister. I assure you, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”
Darcy frowned a little, thinking of Bennet’s similar words only a half hour before. He looked up again at his sister, her face, though a little red, the picture of serenity and confidence, and felt as if he had, at some point, fallen asleep and only just now awakened to find a strong woman in place of his girlishly charming sister. It was what he had wished for and dreaded at the same time.
Georgiana studied him as he pondered, and then seemed to read his thoughts, for she reached over and took his hand. “You fear losing me,” she said gently. He made no answer, but looked away. “You need never fear that. You have been my brother, father, and guardian angel for far too long. You will always have me.” Darcy had never considered it possible that his sister could be a source of wisdom and comfort for him, instead of the other way ‘round; he had also never expected to feel the respect which one must feel for a grown and independent young woman. He was not displeased over such developments, but saddened. He would not meet her eyes, but he covered the hand which gripped his with his other hand, and they sat in that manner for some time.
Chapter Forty-Two
Posted on Saturday, 16 June 2007
Mr. Bennet stared forlornly at the trunks upon trunks of gowns, veils, shoes, jewelry, and more items of clothing than he cared to count. Somehow his wife and daughters had managed to compress the multitudes of clothing they had purchased into trunks that would be conveyed in a separate carriage hired expressly for the purpose. The time for departure had come and passed, and still the young men had not finished saying their goodbyes to their young ladies, and Mr. Bennet, much as he could remember being a young lover and not wishing to be parted from his fiancée, was beginning to grow quite impatient to be gone. Besides, the young men would be back in Hertfordshire themselves within a week.
Mrs. Bennet finally descended the stairs, followed by her three youngest daughters, all of whom were rather astonishingly subdued. For Mary, at least, this silence was at least to be expected, but the two youngest seemed more sullen than serene. They attended their mother down the stairs with appropriate respect and almost irreproachable deportment – a few sighs could not but escape now and then – and stood calmly in the foyer to await their oldest sisters. Mr. Bennet did not quite know what to make of it all, though Mrs. Bennet appeared to see nothing amiss.
He studied the three girls discreetly, and realized with a bit of a shock that they were no longer little girls. Mary was no handsomer than before, but still she was not as plain as any of the Lucases, or even many of the rich young heiresses courted and praised in Town. In fact, when she was not slumped over the instrument or preaching to her family, she might almost be a well-looking young woman. Kitty was the handsomest of the three, but she had the disadvantage of being the shyest, and with her younger sister suddenly so dull, she was unsure what to do and how to behave. Lydia having, as well as she was able, seriously considered Miss Darcy’s advice, had determined that if men liked wives like Lizzy and Jane, she had best learn to mimic some of their ways if she ever wanted a husband. She could not quite distinguish between “serene” and “dull,” however, and already was beginning to think that Lizzy’s style was better for the purpose. After all, Lizzy’s beau had ten thousand a year, but Jane’s had only three or four. Lydia wondered if all frightfully rich and silent men liked laughing, teasing women, and whether Mr. Darcy had any cousins or friends to whom she could be introduced.
Jonathan wandered into the foyer and glanced at his family, who looked very odd indeed standing quietly in a clump with no strife or argument in sight. He could not recall ever having seen them in such accord in his entire life. He saw his father glance at his watch in exasperation. Jonathan smiled.
“Haven’t they finished yet?”
Mr. Bennet scoffed. “You’d think those young men were off to fight a war.”
As his son laughed, the guilty parties finally entered. The young ladies looked much more cheerful than was at all proper for two heroines about to be separated from their heroes. The gentlemen gave their ladies’ hands their last kisses, gave their final bows to their future in-laws, and walked out together.
“Are we fully prepared now?” Mr. Bennet asked irritably.
Elizabeth swallowed her laugh and nodded demurely, while Jane looked a little chagrined at having made her family wait for so long. Mr. Bennet turned on his heel and stalked out to the carriage, his family following with varying degrees of meekness or amusement. Jonathan took his two eldest sisters’ arms and walked with them, suddenly realizing that soon he would no longer have the first right to do so.
“Oh, how grand it is to be home again!” Mrs. Bennet sighed as she and her family assembled in the drawing room, and for once in their entire marriage, Mr. Bennet found that he could not disagree. Jane and Elizabeth sat together on a sopha near the fire, thick as thieves, talking quietly, while Mary tinkled a new melody on the pianoforte and the two youngest girls decorated bonnets nearby.
Mrs. Bennet continued speaking her thoughts. “Only think, my dear, it is but six months since Mr. Bingley first came to Netherfield. I told you how it would be!”
Mr. Bennet smiled. His wife was rarely in such good humor, and he meant to take full advantage of the situation. “Indeed you did, my dear. Your perspicacity astonishes me.”
“I was certain Jane would have Mr. Bingley, but I’m sure even I did not know that Lizzy would catch Mr. Darcy! Indeed, who could have thought it?”
“If you could not foresee such an event, I’m sure no one else could.”
Kitty looked up at this. “Miss Darcy knew,” she said, sounding rather triumphant. “She told me.”
“Pardon?” Elizabeth asked, looking over from her conversation with Jane to stare at her sister in astonishment.
“Oh, yes,” Kitty replied, clearly enjoying being the center of attention for once. “Miss Darcy told me that she knew her brother was in love with you, and was certain you would do well together.”
Mrs. Bennet gaped at her, then recovered her wits. “Well, I’m sure no one else could have guessed it. Miss Darcy was probably in her brother’s confidence.” But she looked put out that someone had known such an important piece of information before she was aware of it. Kitty looked as if she were about to argue, but a glance from her father silenced her, and, smugly aware that she had the right of it and for once had the upper hand, went back to work on her bonnet with a triumphant smile on her face. Lydia glared at her older sister, clearly annoyed at having been unaware of such information, and at not being as much in the influential Miss Darcy’s confidence as Kitty appeared to be. Elizabeth hid her astonishment at Georgiana’s confiding in her younger sister, though she was pleased that the shy young lady had extended her social circle to include girls her own age. She was struck with a sudden idea and turned to Kitty with an air of thoughtfulness.
“Did you get on well with Miss Darcy?” she asked.
“Oh, yes!” Kitty enthused. “She is such a lark when she is not being so shy!”
Lydia snorted. “I thought her very dull. She hardly ever laughs, and has no idea of a joke!”
Kitty looked rather offended. “That is only because you have not spent any time in her company,” she replied, her tone a mixture of sincerity and self-importance. “She is great fun when she wishes to be!”
Lydia would have continued in her ill-natured remarks, but noticed that Lizzy was beginning to look rather black. She gave vent to her feelings by sneering and returning to her bonnet, while Elizabeth picked up her chain of thought.
“Georgie seemed to like you a great deal, Kitty. Though I shall have to discuss it with Mr. Darcy first, would you care to spend a few months at Pemberley after the wedding?”
Kitty’s eyes lit up excitedly. “Oh, Lizzy! Do you mean it?”
Mrs. Bennet looked her excitement as well, but cautioned, “I shouldn’t presume to make such invitations, Lizzy. What would Mr. Darcy think?”
“Mr. Darcy has already informed me that I may invite whomever I please to Pemberley, as it is to be my home as well.”
“But you shall be on your honeymoon! Surely he would not be pleased…”
“Don’t fret, Mama. I said I would discuss the matter with Mr. Darcy, but I can’t see what objections he could present. While we will be newlyweds, there is still Georgie to consider, and I imagine she could easily become very lonely if left to our mercy.” She glanced at her father. “You and Papa would be willing to part with Kitty, I trust?”
“Oh, naturally!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet without allowing her husband to answer. “And there is no telling whether she might not meet a rich young man while in your care!”
“Pemberley, as you shall see for yourself soon enough, I am sure, is rather far out of the way for Kitty to meet anyone but the servants, Mama.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Bennet looked disappointed, but brightened again at the prospect of her daughter being known to visit such a prominent house. The knowledge of the visit alone, that proof of the affection that existed between the families, would surely be beneficial.
Lydia huffed at last loudly enough for the party to turn to her. “And why should not I be invited as well as Kitty?” she asked petulantly. “I am sure I would be pleasant enough company for the great Miss Darcy!”
Elizabeth frowned, attempting to keep her temper in check. “To begin with, you are not on nearly so intimate terms with Georgie as Kitty is. They began to be friends while you pouted in your rooms about not being permitted to go to balls.”
Mrs. Bennet might have taken up an argument for Lydia’s being included in the invitation as well, but suddenly recalling her awe for her future son-in-law, thought perhaps it would be best not to tax his patience with two sisters-in-law so soon after his wedding.
“All this talk of your wedding has made me recall something, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet said, her mind taking a very different turn. “There is something I would speak to you about. And you, too, Jane. Come along!” Elizabeth and Jane exchanged wary glances and, ignoring their youngest sister’s knowing giggles, followed their mother dutifully from the room.
Another week brought the gentlemen to Netherfield, and much to the young ladies’ surprise, that week had passed far more quickly than they had anticipated. Mr. Bennet had awaited only his family’s return to Hertfordshire to publish the girls’ engagements in the papers, pretty well aware that the swarm of visitors and well-wishers which could be expected to descend upon Longbourn, while bound to be overwhelming, would have been dwarfed by the crowd that would have engulfed all three townhouses in London. He had made the necessary communications, of course, beforehand – in particular a letter to Mr. Collins, which he wrote with a pleasure bordering on smugness, never having quite managed to laugh away Collins’s insults to his family and especially his Lizzy.
Darcy and Bingley had suffered their week’s worth of congratulations, jealousy, and ridicule, and were come to be soothed by the presence of their respective ladies, and to take comfort in the peace of Netherfield before their relatives and friends descended upon Meryton. It was likely to be a crush to satisfy even Mrs. Bennet, for all Mr. Darcy’s relatives, besides of course Lady Catherine, were scheduled to attend, as well as his closest friends, and though Bingley’s family was not extensive, his social circle was much wider than his future brother-in-law’s. Darcy was once heard to remark rather sardonically that Bingley had invited his sisters, his brother-in-law, and one or two hundred of his dearest friends to his wedding. All were ready to be merry and in love, and they went about their business quite well, and in the week preceding the wedding Elizabeth had nothing to wish for – except that her brother and her fiancée could at least remain in the same room together for more than two minutes at a time.