Teaching Eliza, page 32
Then the girl cast a glance towards Lizzy and meeting her eye, seemed to take strength from their bond of friendship. She took a deep breath and straightened her back and stepped forward out of her brother’s protective embrace. A look of determination replaced that of anxiety, and she raised her chin and flared her nostrils. Lizzy knew immediately that Wickham would have no more power over the young woman.
Darcy, too saw this transformation, and he nodded once, definitively. “Good girl!” he praised her, his voice almost too quiet for Lizzy to hear. “You are free of him.”
“This is a problem we will deal with one final time,” he announced to the room. He straightened to his full height, and squared his shoulders as his eyes narrowed. “Freddy, come with me. We will present a united front; Wickham’s ceaseless lies and accusations will end today.”
Georgie tried to insist upon being present at the confrontation, pleading eloquently that she had been wronged and deserved to face her abuser, but Darcy stood firm in his denial. At length, he agreed that Georgie might listen at the door, but should not be seen. “I am most reluctant in this decision, Georgiana. I would not have you harmed anew by this cad’s lies. Eliza,” he turned to Lizzy now, “I can trust you to stay with her all the while she listens. If you feel her resolve weaken, I charge you to remove her immediately. Georgie, there will be no discussion.”
Lizzy agreed. “Your brother is right. You are strong, but your health must take precedence.” Darcy nodded again and strode forth through the adjoining door with Freddy like two knights of old charging into battle.
Consequently, as Wickham spewed his venom, Lizzy and her friend stood silently behind the door, listening to every vile word of the bizarre accounting. Lizzy felt herself grow red with anger and embarrassment! Every word the unscrupulous cad uttered was a lie, but oh, she was horrified! How could she bear the shame at what her friends would think of her? She was about to run off when she felt Georgie’s hand on her arm. The victim was now victor, and the touch of her hand gave Lizzy strength and confidence. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper in her ear, but no less strong for its quietness. “We do not think this of you for a moment, Lizzy. Not I, not Fitz, and not Freddy. Wickham has never told the truth, and my brother is hardly about to start believing him now.”
And so Lizzy had stayed, listening to accusation upon accusation of the vilest nature heaped upon her character, whilst Darcy seemed unconcerned about the whole of it. But as Lizzy grew calmer, Georgie grew more and more angry. At last she could hold the girl back no longer. With a huff that sounded remarkably like her brother’s, Georgie wrestled herself from Lizzy’s grip and pulled open the door, then dashed headlong into the room beyond to counter the horrid man’s abuse.
As the girl railed at her erstwhile tormentor, Lizzy felt her embarrassment turn to pride at Georgie’s strength, and she felt her own spine stiffen as she grew equal to the situation. Then, when it became apparent that Wickham was talking about a different person entirely, she felt she might collapse from laughter and relief!
The rest of the interview with Wickham passed in a blur. Georgiana Darcy stood tall and triumphant, George Wickham was cowed and destroyed, and she, herself, vindicated from accusations she had no notion even existed. Perhaps she ought to chastise herself for allowing Georgie to enter the study, but all she could feel, after those horrid words, was profound relief.
And then he had come for her. Quietly, gently, so very much the gentleman after Wickham’s venomous poison, Darcy had come for her and guided her into the space so she could face her accuser and watch as he realised the complete destruction of all his evil plans.
Now the drama of the morning was over. Wickham was safely stowed away where he could cause no more harm until Bingley could decide how to proceed, and Darcy was scurrying around and yelling at servants, demanding that an express rider be found, calling for his paper and pen, wondering why there was never coffee when he needed it, and generally making a racket. He would, Lizzy knew, apologise profoundly and sincerely to his servants the following day, for she had seen this happen before. This was part of his character, and nothing would change it. His staff seemed to accept it without the first sign of complaint, for they knew their master well and understood his moods. Lizzy also knew, from discrete and less-discrete inquiries, that despite these sudden rampages of indignation or fury, Darcy’s staff were loyal and respectful to a man. For all his blustering and tempestuousness, he was never harsh nor cruel, and treated the lowest scullery maid with the same respect he treated his sister. If this was not much, it at least indicated that he did not think meanly of those in his employ, and his intention was understood and commended.
Slowly, Lizzy was coming to understand what she had observed, both in London and at Pemberley. She had, at first, regarded Darcy’s various moods as being almost those of separate men: the arrogant and crusty professor, the sweet and vulnerable friend, the tender and coaxing suitor. But they were all part of the same man, different facets to a fascinating character. His accustomed rudeness made those moments of tender solicitousness all the more poignant; the unforgiving arrogance gave even greater import to those moments when he allowed his sensitive nature to be seen. He was vexing and compelling and really rather wonderful, and as she paced the perimeter of the fine carpet in the morning room, she thought she might very well grow accustomed to these flurries of bluster and tempestuousness.
But he was not the only man who had taken residence in her heart. For there was also Freddy. How could she fail to think most affectionately of Freddy? He had been, since their very first encounter, sweet and steady and reliable. He had been there to support her at every turn, to offer his strength in support or a shoulder to cry upon, and he hung on her every word. Even today, despite his currently strained relationship with his cousin, when the honour of either Miss Bennet or Miss Darcy was at stake, he had put away his rivalry and stood at Darcy’s side, ready to support him against whatever Wickham had found to throw their way. Freddy’s natural good humour made him excellent company; life with such a man would be most pleasant and free from turmoil. Further, should Freddy offer for her, and should she accept, he would one day make her a countess. This was hardly a reason to wed, but it was not an insignificant detail to consider.
She looked over at him as he toyed with the cards he held in his hand. He had seen her agitation and had offered to divert her, either by taking some air outside or by reading aloud, or by engaging in some conversation on some topic of her choice, but she had suggested he see to Georgie’s comfort first. Meeting her glance, he whispered to his cousin and rose to meet Lizzy as she made her circuit around the room. “Lizzy, are you truly well? You heard things today a lady ought never to hear.” He glanced over to Georgie, who was examining her own cards, and whispered, “I had wished to speak with you in private, and at another time, but perhaps— that is—” He breathed deeply, and then spoke quickly and quietly. “Elizabeth, I know of your arrangement with my cousin, but if you are not happy, I would be most honoured if you would consider my offer in lieu of his. I would be the happiest of men were you to be my wife. I know this is not the time to ask, but if there are rumours flying because of that rat, I can and shall quash them all quite soundly. Do not answer me now; but take your time to consider my offer.” He put his bare hand on hers, and let it rest there, with no pressure, no presumption, just his constancy and steady support.
At that moment heavy footsteps were heard approaching the room, and in a moment the door was flung open and Darcy blew in like a storm. “My tasks are complete,” he announced to all and sundry. “The letter to Bingley is written and sent off, and Wickham is secure. At last I may sit.” He fell into a chair, and then noticed Freddy standing all too close to Lizzy. Leaping up once more from his seat, he announced, “We must have some air. Some exercise will do us all good. Perhaps croquet so I may hit something.” He glared at Freddy. The truce was over.
~
Darcy glowered at his cousin. He had just spent all morning dealing with Wickham; he had no patience now for his rakehell relative to be importuning his lady. A closer glance revealed that Freddy had taken Eliza’s hand, and Darcy felt his head swim at what this might mean. Eliza was his, and he would not allow Freddy to wrest her from him. He made some comment about wishing to hit something and strode out of the French doors and onto the terrace beyond, hoping the fresh air of the afternoon would restore him to some semblance of civility, for his sister’s sake, and Eliza’s, if nothing else.
He sensed, rather than felt, the others follow him onto the terrace, and then down into the rose garden beyond. Eliza was walking with Freddy, but silently, and Georgie seemed confused and ill at ease, despite the tremendous show of strength she had exhibited before Wickham. The awkwardness between the trio grew, until Elizabeth spoke, breaking the tension. “You were wonderful this morning, Georgie. I knew you had such strength in you, but it was a blessing to see it. Do you feel stronger?”
His sister agreed heartily, and began talking rapidly as she sought to order her thoughts. “When I heard him lie about you that way, Lizzy, I could bear it no longer! I could not allow him to destroy anybody else with his duplicity, and most especially not my dear friend.” She stopped for a moment to regulate her breath, and continued. “I knew, at that moment, that I had to confront him, and that he would never have power over me again. There is no truth in him, and no beauty, or none in his soul, where it matters,” her voice was firm. “He refuses to know himself, and as long as he lives only on the surface, caring only for what is superficially pleasing, he will never be happy. I hate him, but today, for the first time, I am also sorry for him.”
She grabbed Eliza’s hand and walked resolutely forward to meet the roses in their bloom.
He refuses to know himself . Darcy heard the words his sister had spoken, and they bored their way into his spirit. Did he, Fitzwilliam Henry Darcy, Professor of Language and Phonetics, special lecturer at Oxford University, know himself at all? Or was he as vile a creature as Wickham, fixated upon appearances, fated to a life devoid of true happiness? He slowed his step and looked at the three people walking in front of him now, enrapt in their discussion of Georgie’s inner strength. Did he possess a fraction of his sister’s fortitude? What did he want for himself? What would truly satisfy him?
Did his studies make him happy? They did, he confessed, but to a point only. He delighted in discovering a new vowel shift, or an unusual way of pronouncing a combination of consonants or of documenting subtleties in fricatives. Intellectually, the intricacies of jaw position and sound production were most stimulating, but his studies were only a part of his life. What else was there? He was satisfied, was he not, with Mrs. Pearce in London and Mrs. Reynolds at Pemberley, each seeing to his affairs and managing his life most admirably, whilst he took brandy with Richard or with Charles? But these two men, his closest friends, were now married with their own homes and responsibilities, and he could not devote his life to finding those few moments when he might impinge on their time. No, his happiness had to come from within. He turned his head once more and took in the sight of his sister, glowing for the first time in months, her golden head kissed by the sun and a sense of calmness and animation suffusing her face. Something swelled in his heart, and he nearly stopped walking.
With a start, he realised that what he wished for, more than anything else, was for his family and friends to find their own happiness. This quite astounded him, for he had always considered himself a very selfish creature. His personal wellbeing and luxuries were important to him, and he took them very much for granted, but these were, he now reckoned, what Georgie had termed superficial. True happiness came not from things but from people, from the people he loved. And, with even more of a start, he realised that this was exactly what had happened. He loved. He loved his sister—he would move heaven and earth to see her happy—he loved his cousin, no matter how the man annoyed him, and by God, he loved Elizabeth!
He had been infatuated with her for a while, and had revelled in those stolen kisses and in her impertinence and self-assuredness, but he had grown beyond that, to a point where her happiness meant more to him than his own. He heard her in front of him, talking easily now with Freddy, offering some comments on the weather and the variety of roses and on whether the war in the Americas was detracting from the battles on the continent, as Freddy feigned a look of interest in the topic. For the first time in his life he felt faint. To truly know himself and to truly become settled in his own mind, he had to make a very large sacrifice. The thought of it broke his heart whilst at the same time, it set it free.
TWENTY — DECISIONS
~
AFTER THE HEIGHTENED DRAMA OF the confrontation with Wickham and the renewed rivalry between Darcy and Freddy, the remainder of the day took on a most unnatural flavour. An abnormal calm settled upon company, and despite attempts to carry on conversations and activities as per normal, everybody seemed to be acting out his or her own role in a play. Those few moments of candid conversation were rare and ended abruptly, and Lizzy wondered when the four would be able to return to their heretofore comfortable familiarity.
At least, she recognised, Georgiana had come through her ordeal rather unscathed; if anything, the girl was stronger than ever Lizzy had seen her. She spoke freely of her thoughts and feelings about the matter, and Lizzy was most reassured by her liveliness and resolve. Of everybody, Georgie seemed the least affected by the morning’s proceedings.
Her own thoughts were less settled. She had so very much upon which to think, so many decisions that must be made, and made soon. She had been placed in a most unusual situation, and it would do nobody good to let it continue for any length of time. For her sake, as well as for Freddy and Darcy, she must come to a resolution, although she knew that at least one heart would be broken in the process.
For what a situation she now found herself in: officially engaged to one man, but courted by and proposed to by another. Both suitors were wealthy and handsome, and both were good men who would make excellent husbands, no matter their very different characters. Taken as an accounting, such as one performs in choosing which field to cultivate, or whether to purchase a new curricle or repair the old, the two men might be weighed rather equally, with a balanced number of positive and negative traits. But this was not a matter to be decided based on reason or logic. Nothing but the deepest love, she had come to understand, would convince her into matrimony, and she had need to spend some time examining her own heart, for she felt great affection for both men.
Regardless of her choice, Darcy had succeeded at his scheme. He had turned a country girl into a lady equal to the highest ranks and ensured his immunity from the matchmakers of Town for at least another season. And as far as she, herself, was concerned, should she wish it, her future was secure. Marriage to either gentleman here at Pemberley would be an entrée into a fine life, and should she reject both, she was certain that she might have her choice of a hundred others in the coming season.
The affair, however, had progressed far beyond schemes and plans and vowels and manners. Hearts were at risk, and true happiness or emotional devastation were the possible outcomes, depending on her decisions. Feigning a headache, she begged off the walk on which they had all begun, and she made for her rooms to lie down and think very carefully about what she wanted. And as she lay there upon her bed, seeing the sunlight filtering in through the light sheer curtains that covered the windows and smelling the rose-scented air from the gardens below, she could hear the muted voices of the others as they completed their rounds of the intricate pathways through the rose bushes. Letting the indistinct sounds provide a cushion for her thoughts, her mind began to clear, and she found that her choice was really not that difficult after all.
~
Dinner that night was a rather subdued affair. The exultation and false cheer after the incident with George Wickham had dissolved, leaving everybody withdrawn into his or her own thoughts. Conversation was almost non-existent, consisting primarily of “please pass the butter,” and “the tapers are smoking.” The soup, though excellent, may as well have been water, the expertly prepared fowl sawdust. Even the normally ebullient Freddy was quiet and pensive, his customary colourful waistcoat discarded in favour of a dull grey.
The gathering seemed ready to part ways after the meal, to partake of solitary activities or to find oblivion in sleep, but as Georgiana was about to leave the salon where they had taken their tea and sweetmeats, Darcy called upon her to stop.
“I have something to say,” he announced, “though it pains me greatly to say it.”
Looks of extreme concern passed amongst the other three in the room. What on earth could have happened? Seeing how Darcy was fighting to avoid looking directly at her, Lizzy wondered, briefly, if she was being ejected from the house for some unknown reason. Her initial tenure in the house had been as Georgie’s guest, but her status soon changed to that of guest of the master, and he could toss her out as quickly as he could request a different cravat from his valet. Surely he had nothing to say against his sister or cousin. Georgie was blameless in all things, and Freddy’s only crime was to care a bit too much for herself. If she had come between the cousins, and if Darcy had recognised her culpability, he would be within his rights to see her gone.
With trepidation, she and the others crept back to the chairs and settees which they had so recently abandoned to await the dire news that Darcy seemed about to impart. Three sets of eyes, anxious and alarmed, focused upon the professor, who ignored them all as he paced up and down, chin in hand and a troubled look upon his face, until Freddy at last called out, “Speak, for heaven’s sake, and stop this agony.”
