Teaching Eliza, page 9
“Mama has gone to request an extra course for dinner. I believe you are expected to stay to dine and gaze dotingly at me all evening. I hope this will not be too much of a chore. Shall I send a note to the colonel inviting him to join us? Would that make you easier?” Her voice was almost a whisper, as to be expected from courting couples, seeking a semblance of privacy in the midst of company.
“No, this was my plan and I shall abide all the indignities that are part and parcel of it.” Oblivious to how insulting his words were, he carried on blithely, “I believe I can gaze adoringly at you for long enough to convince your family of my intentions. That should not be beyond my skills.” He now looked at her and sputtered, “What have I said?” Then, in quieter tones and more dispassionately, “I have offended you somehow. Well, nothing to be done for it now. How long should I sit here revelling in my success before I may be permitted to go and find Bingley? Where is he? In the back garden, do you think?”
Lizzy sighed as every soupçon of her discomposure vanished. This was the Professor Darcy she had come to know; this is what she had agreed to tolerate over the next several months. If she took offence at every unintended slight and display of carelessness or selfishness, she would never be happy until the whole ridiculous affair were called off. Best to tolerate the professor’s rudeness and smile while doing it. She could take him to task at another time, when she had the privacy to tell him her true thoughts.
This was an advantage to his unpleasant nature, now that she considered matters. He was rude and churlish, quite unthinking really, and consequently she felt no qualms about returning his abuse syllable for syllable. Had he been a real suitor, she might have accepted some minor slights with Jane’s outward complacency, for fear of sending the man running from her independent mind and barbed wit. But with Darcy, she need have no fear of wounding him, for he had as much to gain from the agreement as she did. She could castigate him and correct him and speak her mind quite freely. It was a wondrous thing, really, to be able to take such liberties with a man such as he, with no concerns about repercussions.
But that would come later. Now she had to rely on her own skills to make her mother believe that she were besotted with the unpleasant man. “Five minutes beside me on this sofa ought to suffice. You would wish to tell your friend, after all, that you are to be brothers. For now, however, you may wish to smile at me.”
“Five minutes. Right.” He drew out his pocket watch and marked the time. Then he turned to Lizzy and smiled. At first, the smile was the smile of an actor upon a stage, but as he caught her eye, the glint in his emerged and his smile became genuine. He reached over and took her hands in his. His fingers were warm on her own, for neither was wearing gloves inside, and she started at the sudden intimate contact. “We are begun, Eliza!” he said proudly. “Here is to our imminent betrothal. May it be fruitful for both of us!” With that, he raised her one hand to his lips and bestowed a gentle kiss on the back, almost as elegantly as the colonel, and just in time for Mrs. Bennet to turn her head and notice it. Yes, it would be all over town by sundown.
~
As expected, the news of Lizzy and Darcy’s supposed courtship spread quickly. Charlotte Lucas came upon Lizzy the following morning as she was preparing for her ride to Netherfield. “Let me ride with you,” she begged of her friend, for I have much to ask!”
Soon the two were seated in the small chaise Lizzy drove when the weather was fair. “What is this news I hear?” Charlotte asked without preamble. “Is it true?”
Lizzy laughed. “I cannot imagine how the news spread, but yes, it is true. Professor Darcy has requested a courtship and I have agreed.”
“But you don’t like the man!” Charlotte was astounded. “You have always told me how rude he is, how unfeeling and selfish. How can you allow him to court you?”
Lizzy stared into the distance and shrugged her shoulders. “I am not certain. I still do not know whether I like him, but I am willing to spend the time with him to learn more about him. We are not marrying yet. If Charles Bingley has accepted him so completely as a friend, there must be some good in him! And the colonel seems to genuinely enjoy his company too; they are friends as much as cousins. I believe there is good in the man, and I am happy to be allowed to seek it.”
“Are you certain, Lizzy, of what you are doing?” Charlotte’s concern was obvious. As much as she had always protested that marriage should be a matter of convenience and security rather than romance, she was nonetheless anxious that her dear friend not find herself in an unhappy situation.
“I am very sure, dear Charlotte. ‘Tis only a courtship. I have thought about this longer than you can know and am quite confident in my decision.”
“Then I must be very happy for you, my friend. I know you are not wed yet, but if that day arrives, I shall celebrate heartily and wish you the greatest joy.”
Whilst Lizzy and Charlotte were riding over from Longbourn, Darcy and Richard were talking in the breakfast room at Netherfield. Richard had been occupied with his business all the previous afternoon, and then had been called to confer with the colonel commanding the militia unit stationed in Meryton for the winter. It had been very late when he had finally returned to the house, somewhat foggy from the freely flowing ale that Colonel Forster had ordered for their consumption, and he had not had the opportunity to ask his cousin how matters had progressed until now.
“So Bennet approved, I trust? Now is hardly the time for him to withdraw his support, but she is his daughter, and he must look to her interests.”
Darcy nodded and took another sip of his coffee.
“Then I shall warn you, cousin,” Richard continued, “that I have taken a liking to Miss Eliza and I will not stand for you treating her ill.”
“Why on earth does everyone think I intend to abuse the girl?” Darcy exploded. “Bennet said pretty much the same thing. I am hardly about to beat her senseless and then drop her into the Thames. Do you take me for a monster?”
“I shall reserve judgement on that.” The colonel rocked back in his chair and appraised his cousin. Darcy wondered absently whether the chair would tip backwards from the uneven weight upon its legs. “However, since we are on the subject of monsters and men of dubious character, I have some news you may wish to hear.” He leaned forward and rested his hands upon the table and waited for his cousin to look up from his steaming coffee before he continued. “Whilst I was conferring last night with Colonel Forster of the militia, I discovered that one of his officers is none other than George Wickham.”
Richard sat back and waited for the reaction. He did not have to wait very long.
“Wickham?” Darcy roared, slamming his cup down with sufficient force to spill hot liquid over the table and rattle the china plate holding the morning’s pastries. The delicate cup did not break, but only through sheer good luck. “What in blazes is that blackguard doing here? I had thought us well rid of him!”
“It appears he has been here for some weeks,” Richard stated calmly, “but since you have hardly been out in society, nor hardly left the estate, it is of little surprise that you have not seen him about the village. Still, he is here. You ought to know.”
Darcy reached for a napkin and began mopping up the mess he had made before a footman appeared from nowhere and took over the task, refilling the cup as part of his duties. “Yes, thank you,” he replied to his cousin. He spoke with resignation and he calmed somewhat as he inspected his clothing for traces of coffee. “I would rather he be nowhere on Earth, but I would prefer to have the information than not. So he is in the militia now, is he? I suppose I should have wondered what became of him, but I was just too relieved to have him out of my life. Does he know that I am here? Did he see you?”
“From what I know, he did not see me, but it was common knowledge that I was meeting with Forster last night. As for whether he is aware of your presence in the neighbourhood, I cannot say. But you should not assume that the knowledge will remain secret for long. Jane and Bingley marry very soon, and you will be seen at the ball Bingley is hosting next week to celebrate the wedding.”
Rubbing his forehead between his eyes, Darcy asked, “How much should I say about him? He will not leave the area without a string of debts and broken hearts—or worse—behind him. The people here deserve to be warned.”
The colonel thought for a moment, then said, “I will talk to Forster and explain our history with Wickham, whilst requesting his discretion in publicising particular details. Hopefully that will suffice.” He reached into a coat pocket and drew out a letter. “By the way, this came in my package yesterday. It is for you, from Mrs. Pearce.”
“Pearce? Why does she write to you and not to me? She is my housekeeper, after all.”
“It seems,” the colonel explained placidly, “that she has done so several times of late, but you seem not to have received or read her missives. She hoped that by sending this to my care, I might entice you to actually read the damned thing.”
“Language, Richard, language.”
“You just wished someone to blazes, Fitz. I am a soldier. Swearing and uttering profanities is part of my stock in trade. Now, will you read this letter or shall I read it aloud to you?”
“Damn and blast, I shall read it myself.” He grabbed the envelope and began skimming the contents. “Pay the accounts, yes, yes… order new linens… send permission to the steward at Pemberley…. Oh no, not this again.” He scowled.
“Trouble, Fitz?”
“No, merely an annoyance. I have mentioned to you before of my connection with this group of reformers in Northern Wales.” He looked up and waited for Richard’s nod, then continued, “They have taken their inspiration from the Quakers and some revolutionary named Robert Owen. Their wealthy patron has procured a large tract of land for them near Conwy, where they have established a cooperative community of some sort. For some unaccountable reason, they have decided that I am a kindred spirit to them, a model of enlightened leadership and a paragon of a new morality. I came across them in the course of my studies, and now they wish me to travel to their remote outpost to give them guidance and inspiration. Why on earth they think this of me, I cannot possibly imagine. Me?” he spat out a short laugh, “Advise Quakers on matters of modern morality? A farce, Richard, a farce! Another one for the rubbish bin. I will respond to Mrs. Pearce later, I promise. At least this eases my temper, for should I happen to think of the scoundrel that is Wickham, I shall cast my mind instead to the presumptuous ignorance of these reformers and laugh myself silly. Now—.”
He was interrupted by the footman bearing a note on a silver salver. “Now, it appears, I must go. Eliza has come and duty calls. Be so kind as to entertain her friend Miss Lucas until the carriage can be called to return her to Meryton. There’s a good chap.” And off he strode, coffee cup in hand, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips.
SIX — FRIENDS AND STRANGERS
~
LIZZY PACED THE SMALL STUDY, a thousand thoughts running through her mind. She had been waiting some minutes in the study with no sign of the professor. This was most unusual; on every other occasion when she had come for her lesson, he had been waiting for her in his accustomed chair behind the large desk. Now, for the first time, she was let into the room alone, and told that the professor would attend her shortly. The sun streamed in through the window and cast a bright glow throughout the room, gilding the honey-blond wooden furniture and illuminating the flowers in the vase on the side table as if from within. Lizzy took the opportunity to survey the room and its ornaments, freed from the disapproving eye of the professor, who would surely chastise her for her distraction and force her back to work. He was a harsh master, tolerant of little, extremely demanding. He would bludgeon her through her exercises again and again until she thought she might break down in tears.
“No, no, no,” he would say. “Can you not hear the difference? The sounds are as distinct as night and day. If you can’t hear it, you will never be able to say it. Listen, Eliza, listen. Pay attention this time. Again…” And Lizzy would blink back her tears and swallow her mortification and redouble her efforts.
On occasion, the colonel would join them in the study. His presence was always welcome, for he was friendly and amiable where Darcy was curt and dour, and his polite addresses were a blessed remedy to the professor’s accustomed rudeness. He would take Darcy to task for some of his more egregious lapses in civility, reminding him that despite everything else, he was a gentleman and ought at least to pretend to the part. On those days, there would be some lightness in the lesson, for the colonel would engage Darcy in banter and repartée that would bring some humour to the room, even if it did not lessen the amount or challenge of the work.
Now Lizzy wandered around the study, wondering what it was that had kept the professor, hoping, perhaps, that Colonel Fitzwilliam might accompany him today, but knowing that he would not, for Charlotte had arrived with her. The colonel had taken a liking to Charlotte, and took every opportunity to engage in conversation with her, even encouraging Lizzy to bring her friend along in the mornings. He always behaved very much the gentleman, and would insist on seeing to her comfort until a carriage could be called to drive her home. The two had certainly developed a firm friendship over these past few weeks. Charlotte enjoyed the colonel’s humour and colourful tales of his years abroad, and the colonel seemed to enjoy Charlotte’s sensible nature and clear view of life.
The friendship could never be more than that—a friendship—for both were most keenly aware of their respective positions in society. As the second son of an earl, the colonel depended on his family’s approbation should he wish to retain his allowance from that source, and when he chose to marry, it would have to be to a lady with a large fortune. Although Charlotte’s father had been knighted for some minor service to the king, the family’s income was quite modest, and Charlotte herself had no fortune at all. Lizzy reflected upon this with regret, for her friend and the colonel seemed to suit rather well, and would be most happy together. Fortunately, the two seemed satisfied at the moment with the relationship they did have, and Lizzy knew that although fate might deny them more, Charlotte could do worse than have a friend and champion highly placed in the military and with intimate links to the aristocracy.
She stood musing over these various subjects, while examining the vista outside the large window behind the desk, when Professor Darcy entered the room at last. He was only fifteen minutes late, but it was so unlike his usual punctuality that it might have been hours.
He did not offer any apologies, but he placed his cup of coffee down on the desk and then handed Lizzy a plate filled with sweet cakes. “I have requested tea. It should arrive shortly,” he said. Lizzy was stunned. Never before had Darcy considered, let alone asked, whether she might like something to eat or drink. Rather, she had learned after her first lesson to bring along something to appease her hunger in the middle of the day, in the event that Bingley was out and neither of his sisters thought to offer her luncheon. Professor Darcy himself could go all day without food, and seldom thought to offer his pupil anything to eat; it was only when the colonel was present that a tray of suitable victuals would appear in the study. “I… I thank you, sir,” she managed, still taken aback by this unexpected gesture.
Something in her voice must have caught Darcy’s attention, for he moved his coffee cup away from the corner of the desk and bowed gracefully. “Good morning, Eliza. It is a pleasure to see you looking so well this morning. I trust you slept well. What plans have you for today after we have concluded our lesson?”
“My goodness, Professor! Are you quite well? You seem to be not quite yourself this morning. You are… polite! First you offer me tea, then you greet me properly without being reminded. Whatever is the matter?” Her voice was light and teasing and her bright eyes shone with amusement.
“Why nothing at all is the matter, dear Eliza. It is a beautiful morning and we are courting, if you recall. I believe I am permitted to be polite to the woman I am courting. Am I not?”
“Of course, Professor, of course. It is just unusual for you.”
“I may be old and grumpy, Eliza, but I hope I am still able to learn a thing or two. Perhaps you have proven a good influence on me.”
“I should hope so!” she responded. “I could hardly have been a poor one, considering what your manners were before!”
“What on earth is wrong with my manners? They have always been perfect. I merely do not choose always to use them.”
“Yes, Professor.” Her arched eyebrows left no doubt that her thoughts were very different from her words. However, now was time to work!
“You are doing well to modulate those vowels, Eliza. I heard scarcely a trace of the rhotacisation. Once we achieve London, and you no longer need to switch between proper English and the dialect you are expected to speak with your family and friends, the adoption of new patterns will progress much more quickly.”
“Thank you, professor. Shall I recite the poem you assigned to me at our last lesson?”
~
George Wickham had led a charmed life, right up to the time he decided that everything he had was not quite enough.
By his ancestry and parentage alone, he ought to have been born in squalor, destined to live out his miserable existence toiling in the fields of someone else’s farm, or carrying slop up and down hundreds of stairs on someone else’s estate. But fortune had smiled upon the family when a wealthy landowner recognised the spark of intelligence and signs of diligence in the boy’s father and raised him up out of the muck to assist the steward of one of his smaller estates. When Wickham senior proved beyond a doubt that the wealthy landowner had made a wise decision, the landowner gradually bestowed upon him greater and greater responsibilities until he achieved the position of steward-in-chief of the man’s primary estate, Pemberley.
