Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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Becoming
better acquainted
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Mrs. Gardiner observed her niece in silence with an
unambiguous feeling of pride. She had always been particularly attached to her
two eldest nieces, and while she loved them equally it was Elizabeth who most
drew her fascination now. Elizabeth was still as she ever had been--lively,
witty, intelligent and unaffectedly pretty--and yet Mrs. Gardiner was beginning
to see in her signs of something else: a greater elegance, a more informed
mind, a less defiant independence. All the wealth and privilege that had come
with her new station had not altered Elizabeth's artlessness, her sensible calm
or her warmth in the least, as though she almost disregarded the luxury in
which she now lived; and yet she was blossoming because of the opportunities it
afforded her into a woman of greater depth and worth. Mrs. Gardiner recalled
with clarity how she and her husband had discovered the prior summer with
something like amazement that their niece had attracted the attention of such
an illustrious young man as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. She had sensed
from nearly the first that they would be an excellent pair, should they come to
an ability to understand one another, and it pleased her to no measure to see
that she had been entirely correct. "As per usual," her husband had
laughed after they had visited Pemberley for Christmas. Yet what she saw now
pleased her still more than the charming picture they had made in those first
weeks of their union. During the Christmas season they had been still in the
first blush of marriage, and Elizabeth was just becoming accustomed to the
tasks associated with her new position. As Mrs. Gardiner sat in her niece's
private parlor on this pleasant summer morning and considered her interactions
with the housekeeper, the ever amiable and efficient Mrs. Reynolds, she saw
with satisfaction that Elizabeth was well settled into her new role. It was
with easy confidence that she finalized the plans for the evening, and Mrs.
Gardiner was pleased on her behalf.
"I believe everything is quite in order then, Mrs.
Reynolds. I shall not detain you any longer as you have a very busy day ahead.
Although first, do tell me, how is Cook?" Elizabeth smiled playfully.
"Has he regained his composure? He was quite put out with me when we
discussed the menu."
Mrs. Reynolds laughed softly. "Aye, Mistress. He is
settled again. It has been many years since he has been challenged to prepare
such a grand dinner. I believe he simply felt a little old. But have no fear,
Pemberley's staff always performs as is required in each situation."
"In no small part due to your excellent
management." Mrs. Reynolds bowed her head in acknowledgment of the
compliment. She appreciated deeply that Mrs. Darcy had not arrived at Pemberley
as an overbearing mistress determined to make her mark upon her new home by
changing how things had been done for so many years; instead she had respected
the quality of Mrs. Reynold's work and made only minor changes to the
household's functioning. That ease and lack of pretension, her warm and
respectful manner toward all had done much to win the staff's loyalty, while
her lively and joyful manner was enough to quickly win their affections.
"Thank you, madam. In truth the entire staff is
excited for this evening. It has been many years since Pemberley has hosted the
shire's finest families and we are anxious to do our service in such manner as
to further the good name of the master, as well as your own, Mistress. Nothing
shall be wanting, you can be sure."
"I do not doubt it. Thank you Mrs. Reynolds."
As Mrs. Reynold's curtsied and left the room, Elizabeth
rose from her chair and turned to the window, a smile lit her face as she
looked out onto the grounds. Mrs. Gardiner went to her side.
"And what is that smile for Lizzy?" Elizabeth
made no response, merely gesturing out the window. Beyond the glass was a lush
green lawn that climbed slowly to a hilltop spotted with brave old oaks, behind
which could be seen the silhouette of distant peaks. "It is a beautiful
prospect," Mrs. Gardiner said. "Indeed I do not believe there is
anything but beautiful prospects from any window in the house."
Elizabeth turned to her aunt, the smile still alighting her
face, and warmly embraced her. "To think, my dear Aunt, had you not brought
me to Derbyshire last summer I should not have my present happiness."
"You are happy." It was a statement, not a
question.
"So much so that I wonder it is real. I told you once
when we were not long engaged that I was happier even than Jane. I think that
is still the case. Is that dreadful of me to say? Does it seem unkind or
boastful?"
"Not at all my dear Lizzy. Her happiness will never be
mirthful, as yours is wont to be; hers is of a different kind, but no less real
or precious for the variation."
"Mr. Darcy said something of the kind to me not too
long ago. I was very upset with something I had learnt about Bingley and Jane,
because it was not how we would have been. And he told me very much the same
thing."
"I could not be more pleased for both you and Jane.
You each have had the good fortune to marry well. And I do not mean by that
merely that you have married men of affluence, rather men who suit you each so
well. Close as you are, Jane and you are very different creatures after all.
Jane is so steady in character and being that she should always have been just
what she was at Longbourn regardless of where she should reside or in what
circles of society she should travel--she needed a gentleman of equal kindness
and sweetness of temper. But you Lizzy, you are quite different."
"Do not tell me that you of all people believe I
married Mr. Darcy for the 'circles of society' in which I might travel?"
"Not at all," she laughed as she patted her
niece's hand reassuringly. "While his affection has certainly been of
longer duration, I am confident today yours is now of equal fervor."
Elizabeth could not but blush at the intimation. "It is not that at all.
Rather that I had often felt the society you could encounter at Loungbourn was
far too limited for you and worried you should ever find an acceptable life
partner. You should not have remained satisfied with Meryton and its environs
for very much longer. You required a husband worldlier than the neighborhood
could provide, a society of more variety, less confined, to allow you to become
fully yourself. You undeniably love your husband, Lizzy, but you need not be
ashamed that you are pleased with the society and opportunities offered you by
being his wife. I am sure he would not wish it so; indeed I suspect he is proud
to have that to offer you. The change has already begun, Lizzy."
"The change? I do not understand."
"In your new life I see you blossoming. You are in a
fair way of becoming a very great lady, Lizzy, and for that I shall always be
truly grateful to your Mr. Darcy."
"You are very kind to me Aunt. He has never asked me
to be anything other than I am, and yet I hope one day I can become a great
lady, for his sake."
"But it is just that my dear. By being who you are,
but now exposed to so much more than Loungbourn's environs could offer, it is
inevitable that you shall."
Elizabeth blushed anew, and responded impishly: "I do
not know, but tonight I need to be a very great lady indeed. As a bachelor Mr. Darcy
never chose to entertain in such a manner as we will this evening; his sister
was full young to be his hostess and he himself found the notion of a young
unmarried man of just three or four and twenty entertaining on such a scale
peculiar. But now we are married, now that Pemberley has a mistress again he
feels that Pemberley must be Pemberley again. So you see, I need to be quite
grand, and I am nothing of the sort," laughed she diffidently.
"I will begin by saying that you need be only
yourself. The same sensible, unpretentious, witty and charming girl he fell so
violently in love with is I am sure all he wants from you. But what does Mr.
Darcy mean by saying that Pemberley must be Pemberley again?"
"When Lady Anne still lived they entertained families
from the shire quite regularly and lavishly. Mrs. Reynolds has told me all
about these dinners and they were quite famous in the neighborhood for the
generosity and elegance of the entertainment. With the exception of Mr. Darcy's
own occasional party of friends from town, Pemberley has essentially been
locked up since Lady Anne passed away. As you can imagine Mr. Darcy spent a
good deal of his time in Town. He spent less than six months a year here, and
it was not Georgiana's home as it is now. So you see Aunt, this evening is
really rather more than just another dinner party."
"And yet you remain quite calm."
"Why ever not? Mrs. Reynolds is entirely the most
competent housekeeper one could desire and it is near impossible for Pemberley
to be anything but beautiful and elegant, so I need only look my best and be
reasonably charming. As for the former, I have a lovely gown from London not
yet worn and a maid who makes me twice as pretty as I actually am by fixing my
hair in the most extraordinary manner. And for the latter, I do not believe
anyone, excepting perhaps Lady Catherine and Miss Bingley, have any interest in
seeing me fail, which makes it ever so much easier for people to find one
charming!"
"You are optimistic, my dear! Perhaps it is the babe
that gives you such courage."
"Perhaps."
"Have you told Jane you are with child?"
"Yes, and Georgiana as well. They are very happy. But
Aunt, I have not yet felt the quickening, and yet I know it to be so."
"From everything you have told me I am quite sure you
are not mistaken. You shall feel it soon enough my dear."
"Oh I do so hope it will be soon!"
Elizabeth beamed with joy as she spoke of her anticipation
and looked undeniably lovely as a result, which only served to annoy Lady
Catherine as she walked into the room. Since her arrival at Pemberley the great
Lady had become tormented by a sort of determined and traitorous recognition
that Mrs. Darcy, while not the most handsome of women, was in possession of a
vigorous attractiveness that was undeniable and that seemed to only increase
with association. Lady Catherine reluctantly marveled that even when sharing a
room with the astonishing beauty of the indolent Mrs. Thorney and the angelic
beauty of her own sister, Mrs. Bingley, her nephew's wife still shone. It
irritated her beyond measure that while her own daughter sat passively in the
corner--sickly and unnoticed unless she herself should single her out--Mrs.
Darcy's effervescence of personality seemed to light the very room she entered.
Such recognition did not make her admire her more; rather, envious and jealous
for her daughter, it only inspired greater disapprobation.
Lady Catherine did not know precisely why she had sought
out her nephew's wife. She had watched them surreptitiously in the garden the
day before and felt defeated, but had awoken with renewed energy. For exactly
what she knew not; but here she was, standing in Mrs. Darcy's private parlor,
and feeling intensely provoked by the sight of her vivacity, health and vigor.
"You seem quite satisfied with yourself this morning,
Mrs. Darcy."
"Is there a reason I should not be?" she
responded distrustfully.
"Clearly not. You have achieved your ambitions. You
and your relations, that is." At which she turned upon Mrs. Gardiner a
look of unmistakable dismissiveness such as she had heretofore not dared in her
nephew's presence. Elizabeth seethed at the implied offense to her aunt.
"Lady Catherine," she admonished. "I would
remind you that you are not at Rosings Park where your ill-mannered commentary
must be silently endured."
Lady Catherine raised her eyebrow and cast a disbelieving
look upon Elizabeth. "This is my nephew's house and I shall speak in it as
I see fit, young lady."
"This is also my house and I will not tolerate such
disrespect toward any guest of mine," she rejoined with force.
"Your home!" Lady Catherine sputtered glibly.
"You are nothing but an interloper in this house and in this family."
Elizabeth could not restrain a dismissive laugh. "An
interloper? Really, Lady Catherine, I expected a more clever attack from you
than that!"
"I see you are as insolent as ever and have learnt no
manners."
Elizabeth made no reply. She simply folded her hands in
front of her and looked at Lady Catherine with undisguised distaste.
"Perhaps I should retire," Mrs. Gardiner
interjected into the silence.
"Certainly not on my account, Aunt Gardiner. There is
nothing Lady Catherine can say to me that I need be ashamed of. It is she that
must be ashamed for her behavior. A guest in my home and to speak to me in such
terms."
Mrs. Gardiner noted that for all Elizabeth's bravura, she
was growing noticeably pale. "Nevertheless," she whispered and
slipped out of the room. She immediately found a paper and pen and drafted a
note. Finding the nearest footman she instructed him to immediately take it to
Mr. Darcy, who was fishing at the trout stream with the gentlemen. Sir, it read, I know you shall
comprehend and forgive my intrusion when I ask you to please come quickly.
Lizzy requires your assistance. She is in her private parlor with Lady
Catherine. Yours, M. Gardiner
Elizabeth was indeed feeling weak, but thought it must be
her state of expectancy. She could not credit Lady Catherine's peculiarly
persistent spite.
"Yes, I suppose you do think of it as your own house.
You have certainly achieved your ambitions. But I know what you really are even
if my nephew does not. You are an interloper: an upstart and a fortune hunter,
a discredit to the family. That you have been successful in entrapping my
nephew does not absolve you of your selfish motives."
"You may believe that if it gives you comfort, it is
of no consequence to me. I am sure you are not alone, which should provide you
some consolation, Lady Catherine. My husband knows my feelings. And in these
matters, his is the only opinion I care for."
"I will grant you that you have succeeded in blinding
him to your true self. He is indisputably and pathetically infatuated, to be
sure. It takes no great observation to see that. But what of when he tires of
your kisses and your allurements? What will you do then?"
Elizabeth replied with an inelegant snort. "If he
should tire of me that is our business alone. And I fail to see your point. I should
still be his wife, regardless."
"You stand there with great confidence, triumphantly.
Certainly you have earned your triumph over me. You are, disgracefully, his
wife. But do not be fooled into believing that his blind infatuation is sufficient
to raise you to become the equal of his family and friends. Do not believe that
you are my equal only because you have effectively enthralled him. You have not
risen; sadly, he has fallen. A pillar among gentlemen he has debased himself,
and for what, a girl of no consequence. Society does no more than tolerate you
for his power and influence, but once he tires of you, as I know he shall, you
will be ostracized as the country upstart that you are."
"Frankly, madam," Elizabeth finally responded in
exasperation, "I know not what you think you can accomplish with your
continued acrimony excepting your nephew's ceaseless disapprobation. I should
think your affection for him quite outweighs your dislike of me. And truly, if
you could not succeed in having me succumb to your whims when I was only Miss
Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, you surely cannot believe that I will be
troubled by your tired and illogical intimidations now that I am Mrs. Elizabeth
Darcy of Pemberley! You have nothing to gain and everything to lose. Mr. Darcy
has already made it quite clear with whom his loyalty lies. I am his wife and I
am now carrying his child; your slights do no injury to our union.
Lady Catherine was silenced a moment by the revelation. It
was inevitable, to be sure, and yet it displeased her to have it so. Elizabeth,
for her part, had quite run the course of her patience. She spoke forcefully.
"I would recommended that you change your tone with
me, Lady Catherine, if you care at all for continued association with your
nephew. Plainly you must know that if I were to speak one word of this
conversation to my husband you would be banished from Pemberley forever."
"You would not dare interfere in the relations between
my nephew and myself!"
Elizabeth could not repress an ironic smile. How easily
Lady Catherine had forgotten that it was just such interference that had
procured her an invitation to Pemberley. "If I am everything you say I
am--heartless, ambitious, greedy--why should I not dare?"
Lady Catherine made no reply. So that when some moments
later Darcy quietly entered the room, his shoulders thrown back in all his
stateliness and his mien wearing the impenetrable neutrality that had so often
inspired observers to call him proud, he found the two women standing and
facing each other in determined silence; Elizabeth with hands folded neatly
before her, Lady Catherine with a hand upon the table at her side almost as if
to steady herself. Their eyes were locked in challenge and their chins mirrored
each other, thrown back in fixed defiance. Elizabeth looked, Darcy thought, as
offended and indignant and formidable as she had during his infamous botched
proposal at Hunsford Parsonage. As he saw her thus he wondered for a moment if
Lady Catherine, upon confronting Elizabeth at Longbourn, had not been as
surprised as he had been to discover that beneath her easy, light manner was a
woman of such strength of will. Mrs. Gardiner had summoned him anticipating
that Elizabeth required assistance against the relentlessness of his aunt's
attack, but she clearly could stand her own ground. He felt his heart verily
swell with admiration for Elizabeth's courage and resolve. She was no weak and
helpless female, and yet could be as sweet and yielding as any man could
desire; that contradiction, that amalgamation exhilarated him.
"Mrs. Darcy," he said calmly but demandingly as
he entered the room. "Is anything amiss?"
Neither woman turned toward him, nor seemed surprised at
his arrival.
"Nothing at all my dear," Elizabeth replied evenly.
"Lady Catherine and I were merely becoming better acquainted one with the
other. Were we not, madam?"
"Certainly. And I have discovered your wife is not to
be underestimated." And she quit the room at an unhurried, solemn pace
without another word.
"Elizabeth?" Darcy asked once they were alone.
"It is of no consequence William."
He came to her side and took her hands into his own.
"Of no consequence? You are trembling! You will tell me what she has
said!"
"No, I will not. For what purpose?"
"I will not allow her to speak to you in such a manner
as to leave you thus, Elizabeth. The particulars are immaterial; she has
clearly been more than uncivil to so affect you. This will not stand!"
"William!" she cried to no avail as he dropped
her hands and hurried out of the room, his determined gait revealing his
intention. Elizabeth sank into a chair and found she was indeed trembling. She
was impatient for his return, for she doubted not he would return to her
immediately upon confronting his aunt. She cursed the woman for her perversity.
Shaking her head in dismay as she recalled that Darcy had warned her of just
such behavior should Lady Catherine accept their invitation to Pemberley.
Still, Elizabeth wished it could be different. Lady Catherine's ire served no
purpose at all. Determined to not allow a moment more to be spent upon the
great Lady's vocal disapprobation, Elizabeth rose from her chair and went in
search of Mrs. Thorney who the prior evening had expressed a desire to take a
long walk in the park in the morning. Knowledge of whatever words passed
between nephew and aunt could wait; she would not waste such a beautiful
morning indulging Lady Catherine's irrationality.
Darcy found his aunt in the music room making as if to
listen to Georgiana and Mrs. Ashton play. Her ploy would not serve her,
however, and he curtly requested that they leave him alone with his aunt.
Closing the door behind them he took a deep breath before turning to face Lady
Catherine. She was little pleased with the unhidden indignation that sat upon
his mien, but she would not be castigated as a child, and so began herself.
"Has your wife sent you? I should have thought her
more resilient than that."
"She has not sent me, but it takes no great
discernment to know you have been arguing and I have every faith that the
injured party was my wife."
"She the injured party? Why I have never encountered
such insolence as I have at her hands. Really, Darcy, what sentiments could
have induced you on to this matrimony?"
"My sentiments are not of your concern; my sentiments
concern only myself and my wife."
"Such an insolent, head-strong girl! I have never been
spoken to in such an impertinent manner by any other person!"
"If she utilized strong language with you I am sure
you must have provoked it, for she is everything civil and well-mannered. But
she is nobody's fool to acquiesce to insult from you or any one else, and in
her own home no less. There is nothing to discuss. I have but a few words for
you and I would have you hear me well Lady Catherine: she is my wife and I will
not allow you to speak to her with anything but respect and
consideration."
"Yes, now you are concerned with formalities and
duties and respectability. But you did not care for such things when she ensnared
you with her arts and allurements; you did not care for such things when your
cousin Anne's future was at stake."
"Enough!" he roared before she could continue.
"My forbearance is spent. This ridiculous charade will not continue. You will
treat my wife as is her due or you will not remain under her roof! Be
forewarned that I shall not bend to Mrs. Darcy's will in regards to a
reconciliation again. If you leave because you cannot see fit to treat my wife
as you should then there will be no further attempts at reconciliation. The
choice is yours."
He thought he saw her wince as she turned her back upon him
and he made as if to depart the room, but then hesitated a moment. Had he
learned nothing, he wondered, about the uselessness of implacable resentment?
Had not Elizabeth told him that she did not require an estrangement to feel her
honor defended? Could he not find a manner in which to bring her 'round to
acceptance? He thought there must be another way. She was after all his
mother's only sister, one of the few living links he had back to that vague
beloved figure of his boyhood. Could he not be magnanimous for the sake of his
mother's memory? Elizabeth would not resent if he offered his aunt a sort of
amnesty; indeed she would commend him for the same. Lady Catherine was as
different as could be from what his mother had been, but still, they had been
devoted sisters. He looked upon her tall figure, and something about the
increased slope of her shoulder that bespoke fatigue and loneliness stirred his
compassion. He approached her and spoke in a gentle tone Lady Catherine was not
accustomed to hearing.
"Lady Catherine," said he. "Aunt."
She turned to him and could not deny that her heart
softened at the tender expression thereupon. Had he ever looked upon her thus,
she wondered? He took her hand into his own and was more than a little moved to
feel it tremble. He spoke softly, gently, but with conviction.
"Aunt, you must know that I would have never made Anne
my wife. It was what you wished for, and perhaps it is true that my mother also
wished it so. I cannot vouchsafe. Yet it could not be. Anne, poor girl, had
neither the desire nor the constitution to be Mistress of Pemberley. And I
never wished her so; she was not the woman for me. But I can be a brother to
her; I can give you my word that she shall have from me always the loyalty and
counsel of a brother. You can trust me, Aunt, to ensure she is never
unprotected. Let us not go on in such an acrimonious manner. Tonight for the
first time since my mother lived Pemberley will open its doors to its
Derbyshire neighbors, and I should regret to not find you at table. If you will
but allow yourself, you shall see that my wife does honor to the Darcy name. I
ask you, Aunt, do not go on blaming her. It was in my power alone to satisfy
your wish--for it was your wish, not mine, not Anne's. It was my choice to
disappoint your hopes, not my wife's. And I should have disappointed those
hopes even had I never met Elizabeth. You know I speak the truth. If my wife is
pleased to forgive, why should not you and I do the same? We are family. Let us
forgive the past and let us reconcile."
Darcy searched his aunt's countenance, but found it
unreadable. Her eyes were steady upon his face, but she revealed nothing. He
sighed and squeezed her hand. "Think upon what I have said, Lady
Catherine." Without another word, he bowed and left her.
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