A Constant Love: A Pride & Prejudice Continuation, page 10
They were all to remain at Curzon Street, except for Darcy, who determined he must go back to Pemberley for at least a week. Alms must be distributed to the poor in the area, and baskets of delicacies to all of his tenants. Both Elizabeth and Georgiana volunteered to return with him, but he bade them stay, not wishing to see them exhausted with so much travelling, and – as he noted privately to Elizabeth – not wanting even the slightest separation between Georgiana and Lord Alfred, as he suspected the young man would make an offer in the next month or two, and that it would be far better received than Georgiana’s first offer of marriage. Mrs. Reynolds could manage the baskets perfectly well, and he should be back before they even had time to miss him.
On this account, he was most incorrect. Elizabeth had spent every night since their marriage by her husband’s side, and she found she was most uncomfortable sleeping by herself, in her own bed. She wrote to him, a tender letter, filled with all she could think to write after so short an absence, and when the post came a few days later, found that he had done the same for her:
“My darling Elizabeth,
“If an acquaintance had told me before our marriage that I should hardly be able to sleep without you by my side, after managing to do so with little difficulty for nine-and-twenty years, I would have thought them to be absurd. Yet last night, after what should have been a most tiring day, filled entirely with visits to as many of the farms as Richardson and I could manage, I found myself unable to do that which had come so easily before. I hope this letter finds you well, and not similarly suffering. It is not as though we have not spent time apart in our acquaintance, but I find I have too quickly come to take for granted that I should always have a last sight of your lovely eyes before I should attempt sleep, that I should wake every morning to your beautiful face. It is, I suppose, in the same way we take the air we breathe for granted, and yet would suffer so immediately were it taken away.
“Pemberley is all disappointment at my not having brought Mrs. Darcy. I believe they assumed you were to accompany me, when I wrote to Mr. Parker to tell him of my coming, and I never saw the faces of the servants fall so much as when they saw me alight the carriage without a Mrs. Darcy to follow. I suspect they have a great curiosity of you, Elizabeth, although they will not ask me anything to alleviate any of it. I have no doubt that you will give them every pleasure, when you finally take your place here. It is not natural for a house such as this to go so long without a mistress, and I fear it would have done so for much longer, had I not had the fortune to fall in love with such a woman, and to eventually become worthy of her affections.
“I must confess to a certain amount of relief at being away from town, and here at Pemberley for a little while. I spent a half-hour before retiring for bed in the library, for no reason other than the simple wish to sit, and to enjoy my favourite surroundings. There is a particular smell to the library, of old books and leather, and it may sound strange to say so, but I crave it when I have been away for too long. It is the place in the world where I feel most comfortable, and yet it is not the same now without my Elizabeth. I think of spring, and a rainy day when perhaps we might sit here together, far from the obligations of town. I cannot wait for the day when you might have the chance to oblige me of such a fantasy. Until then, I shall ask you to give my regards to our sisters, and attempt to tease you by signing this letter,
“FITZWILLIAM
“and reminding you that I think of you with a depth of affection I lack the capacity to describe, and long to be in your presence again.”
Elizabeth read these words with the deepest love for their writer, and reread the letter before she would gather her writing things and pen a response that added very little to their correspondence but a repeat of her love, and likely would not even reach him before he had left to return to London.
Georgiana, of course, had more to distract herself with during his absence. She thought often of Lord Alfred, and more and more, she allowed herself to think of what her life might be like, if she were to marry him. After receiving such a strange early proposal of marriage when she had just come out into society, she began to wonder whether Lord Alfred would offer for her, and if so, when. She greatly enjoyed his company, and she preferred him to all other men she had met, and yet she still was not quite sure she was fully in love with him. She feared he might make her an offer before she was certain of her affections, and then she would have a very difficult decision to make.
She confessed as much to Elizabeth one day, while they were alone in the drawing room. Elizabeth looked at her with concern, and then said: “You must never, ever, tell your brother what I am about to tell you.”
Georgiana assured Elizabeth of her secrecy, and then listened in surprise as Elizabeth told her that Mr. Darcy had made her an offer of marriage many months before the offer Georgiana knew of, and that Elizabeth had refused him. Georgiana could recall his correspondence of that time, and although she remembered him writing of Miss Elizabeth Bennet with the highest regard, she could recall nothing that indicated such an event had happened.
“He must have been so disappointed!” she exclaimed. “I never knew of any of it.”
“Your brother and I had a great deal of misunderstanding between us at the time,” Elizabeth said. “I shared the storey with you, though, to tell you that even if you are uncertain of your heart when he first offers for you, if he truly loves you, he will wait. Things that are meant to be come out right in the end.”
Darcy returned two days before Christmas, and commented, as had much of the rest of the household, including Mrs. Wright, on how nicely the pine boughs made the entrance-hall smell. Elizabeth took some small measure of pride in this, but for her they were less about decoration and more a reminder of Longbourn. Mary and Catherine were to remain with them at least through January, and with Jane coming to Christmas dinner, Elizabeth wanted only her father with them to eliminate her last remnants of homesickness. He was to stay in Hertfordshire with Mrs. Bennet, however, who wrote regularly to Mary and Catherine and encouraged them to find good husbands while they had such an opportunity as to be in town and in the company of rich men. They had no excuse, now, with such dowries as had been provided them by the extravagant kindness of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, she counselled.
Christmas came with a light dusting of snow, but nothing that was of concern to those with well-sprung carriages and good horses, and so the Bingleys, Hursts, and Gardiners arrived well in time for dinner. Caroline Bingley arrived with substantial news, as well: Sir Sedgewick had made her a marriage proposal, and she had accepted him, and there could hardly be a lady in town so happy as she was currently. Georgiana felt strange at hearing the news – Caroline had known Sir Sedgewick for about the same amount of time she had known Lord Alfred, and perhaps this did mean Lord Alfred would propose to her soon.
For the rest of the party, the news simply meant that they must all hear far more than they wished to about Sir Sedgewick. If the conversation at dinner was a bit lacking, however, they all assured Elizabeth that the food and wine were not. Cook had felt a great desire to wipe Pemberley’s eye, and had outdone herself with every dish. The puddings were universally declared to be even more impressive than the main dishes, and Mr. Hurst, in particular, looked to be in ecstasy.
Before the gentlemen made their way into the drawing room, Mrs. Gardiner sought out her niece and paid her compliments again.
“You have become quite the mistress of this house, Lizzy,” she said.
“It is nothing, when I have such a housekeeper and cook,” Elizabeth said. “I fear I mostly take credit for their efforts.”
“They would not put in such efforts for a mistress they do not like, however. It has been clear to me that you have earned their respect.”
“Soon I shall have to do the same at Pemberley. That will be the real challenge. I must admit, although I owe a debt of gratitude to Mrs. Reynolds for vouching so for Mr. Darcy’s character that she contributed to my reconsidering him, I still fear taking up residence there with her as the housekeeper. She has been in that role for more than twelve years, and there has been no mistress of the house in all that time.”
“You will be fine, Elizabeth,” her aunt said. “Use her experience. I assure you it is much preferable to have a housekeeper who overreaches occasionally than one who needs constant monitoring.”
Elizabeth continued to think of this conversation as Sarah helped her out of her dress. At least Sarah would be with her, whenever they finally removed to Pemberley. Elizabeth had given the girl a substantial Christmas bonus, and Sarah had been thrilled, sharing that she should be able to send much back to her family in Ireland, before she remembered herself. Elizabeth knew there must be some boundaries between her and Sarah, and yet she still wanted to know more about the girl’s family, and resolved she would try to make Sarah feel comfortable sharing such bits and pieces as she could.
Although the guests had stayed late, generally enjoying the conversation of the family group (excepting Mr. Hurst, who had fallen asleep), Elizabeth found that neither she nor Darcy were so very tired when she entered his bedchamber. He needed very little encouragement from her that she desired his attentions, and before her thoughts were thoroughly distracted, she found herself reflecting happily that they were very much matched in this aspect of married life. This led, however, to a reminder of the fear she could not even bring herself to share with her aunt: that they had done this many times, and yet still she was not with child.
Chapter 13
When Christmas had passed, all that remained for Elizabeth to do with regards to Georgiana’s coming-out ball was to deliver the invitations. This had already been done for those most intimate to the family, including Lord Alfred and his brother, and Lady Tonbridge, who had promised that she herself would be holding her long-promised ball soon. However, there were still the introductions Lady Ellen had wished to make, families with excellent influence and enough sons to ensure there would be ample partners.
As the families began returning to town for the season, Lady Ellen’s carriage became a regular fixture outside of the house on Curzon Street. She would call for half-an-hour or so, and then she and Elizabeth would make their way to the house of those chosen for a visit that day. Introductions were made with Lady Ellen’s usual standard of elegance, and some families were delighted to receive their invitations; a ball held by the Darcys, so early in the season, gave them something immediate to look forward to.
There were other families, though, where Elizabeth was not so well received. None of them were so ill-mannered as to conduct themselves improperly, especially not with Lady Ellen having made the introduction. However, there were far more of them than should have been possible who claimed a prior engagement for the evening. The ladies of these families did not return her calls in the following days; it was clear they wanted no connexion with her.
Elizabeth was pained by the notion that these ladies – who might, before her marrying Mr. Darcy, have been eager to ally themselves with the Darcys – should choose to shun her. She took heart that some of them had chosen to further their acquaintance with her, and that at least there should be no problems with the number of partners. Colonel Fitzwilliam had recruited enough of his comrades-in-arms, returned from the continent, to see to that. This pleased everyone at Curzon Street with the exception of Kitty, who was delighted beyond description, but could not quite bring herself to ask Colonel Fitzwilliam if the gentlemen would attend in uniform.
True to her word, the viscountess called on them a few days before Georgiana’s ball to deliver her invitation. Her own ball was to be barely a week after Georgiana’s, a sign of the pace the full season promised them. Indeed, their callers and engagements had picked up remarkably; for the week after the ball, between dinners, the theatre, and the viscountess’s club, they had plans to be out in society nearly every single evening.
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Elizabeth woke the morning of the ball to find her husband had, as usual, already gone downstairs. Beside her on the bed, however, was another jeweller’s box, which she opened far more eagerly than the last. It was amethyst, this time, most delicately set, and she showed it to Sarah when her lady’s maid came in to dress her.
“Oh, ma’am, those will look so lovely on you!” Sarah exclaimed. “I think we must go with the lilac silk, to match, and I shall talk to Miss Hughes about what I might do with your hair, to show off the hair clip.”
“Nothing too showy,” Elizabeth said. “This is Georgiana’s ball, after all.”
“Of course, ma’am, although it is your first time hosting a ball, so it is special for you as well. I am sure it will be wonderful.”
Elizabeth came down to breakfast to find only Darcy sitting at the table – the young ladies must have chosen to sleep in so that they would be well-rested for the ball.
“I found my present,” Elizabeth said, kissing him quickly, in case some one else walked in. “It was not quite so nice as waking up to find you there, but still, very nice. And the jewels are lovely, once again.”
“I know it is Georgiana’s ball,” he said. “But I thought you should have something for all of your efforts in planning it. I am sure Georgiana appreciates all of the work you have put in every bit as much as I do.”
“It was good to have a purpose for the ball, otherwise I might have put off hosting my first ball indefinitely. There was so much to attend to.”
“Were it not for our sisters, I would be perfectly happy with you indefinitely postponing having any balls here.”
Elizabeth laughed, and realised she felt far less anxious about the ball than she might have if she had hosted it a few months ago. By now she trusted Mrs. Wright to ensure that every detail was attended to, and only bring items to Mrs. Darcy’s attention if the staff could not, for some reason, handle it themselves.
There were no such issues raised to Elizabeth; the decorations went up and the food was prepared with the efficiency of a well-paid staff who had grown quite used to having their family in residence. Georgiana, however, felt a great trembling nervousness in herself throughout the entire course of the day. She had been to two balls already, and had promised dances to Lord Alfred and all of the Fitzwilliam gentlemen, and so should have felt more complacent about the prospects of the evening. She would rarely be compelled to dance with new acquaintances, and she was at home. Yet one thing was different, and that was that this was to be her ball. She would be the centre of attention, leading off the dance with her brother, and although being in company over the course of the autumn and winter had done away with much of her shyness, she felt it returning now.
Her dress for the evening was by far the most magnificent of those that had been made for her coming out, white silk with the most delicate embroidery, and she was much exclaimed over when everyone came down from dressing. Such exclamations continued as they all took up a line in the entrance-hall to receive the guests, and Georgiana blushed furiously to be the centre of the guests’ attentions. Caroline arrived with Jane and Charles Bingley, and her betrothed, Sir Sedgewick, and all could see that Jane’s estimation of his being an ill-looking man was correct. He did dote on Caroline, however, and no one could find deeper fault with him than wishing to marry her.
There may not have been two other people in the ballroom with less interest in being the centre of attention than Georgiana and her brother, but the pair managed creditably as they led off the dance. They were both of them very good dancers, and it helped Georgiana to know that all the dancers around them were family – Lord and Lady Brandon, Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam, Kitty and Colonel Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth and Charles Bingley. The latter pairing had been a bit of a surprise to all, but Jane, although in attendance, was feeling a little ill and did not intend to dance that evening.
Georgiana danced the second set with Lord Alfred, Elizabeth with Darcy, and it was only during the third set, which Elizabeth sat out, that she learned the cause of her sister’s illness. She had seen her sister in a whispered conference with their aunt Gardiner in a far corner of the ballroom during both the first and second sets, and now Jane told her the nature of their discussion.
“Oh, Lizzy, I am with child!” she whispered to her sister. “I knew only some of the symptoms, but in talking to my aunt, I found that there were more I did not know about, and my condition matches all of them.”
“Jane, I am so very happy for you!” Elizabeth mustered as much enthusiasm as she could for her sister, and indeed she was very happy for Jane. But Jane’s news brought with it a deep pang of jealousy as well; Elizabeth still had no reason to suspect herself to be pregnant.
“I have not told Charles, yet,” Jane said. “I wanted to be certain. Even now it is so early that I wonder if I should wait until the pregnancy is further along.”
“Jane, you must tell him tonight,” Elizabeth said. “He can hardly dance for looking over at you in worry. The poor man has no cause to think that your illness is perfectly normal and related to such happy news.”
Jane looked up, caught her husband’s anxious glance, and said: “Lizzy, of course, you are right – I shall tell him as soon as this set is finished.”
“There should be no one in the conservatory,” Elizabeth said. “Perhaps you might find the air a little stifling in here – it will be much better in there.”
When the set ended, Elizabeth watched Jane do exactly that, and as the Bingleys exited the ballroom, she felt such a mixture of happiness for Jane and sadness for herself that for a moment the entire ballroom blurred with the tears in her eyes. She knew many childless couples; some had lost children through sickness, others had never managed to conceive. Only recently had she begun to worry that she and Darcy might be among them, that something might perhaps be wrong with her. Soon enough, though, her duties as hostess distracted her from such unhappy thoughts, and the sight of Georgiana and Catherine dancing every dance and enjoying themselves very much cheered her demeanour, if not her heart.
