Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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Brave
Defiance
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Miss Georgiana Darcy was surprised at how very much her
life had altered for the better since her brother's marriage. This change was
in no manner material in nature, for she had always been given all she could
desire and the new Mrs. Darcy had found Pemberley in no way lacking in grace
and so had made merely minor modifications to furnishings and schedules; rather
it was a change in tone that made it all seem wholly different now. It was like
the difference between hearing a song sung by a soprano or a tenor--the score
is the same, but the overall effect quite unrelated. While her admiration and
affection for her new sister was sincere and every day seemed to increase, she
was wise enough to recognize that it was not merely the true friendship of a
sister that had wrought such an alteration, but all that came with her, most
particularly the happiness of her brother and the subtle changes in his
demeanor that said happiness had effected. He was easier now, less formidable.
During these first months of his marriage she had seen more of the man that he
was and so had come to look upon him now as more of a brother than the slightly
distant father-figure he had heretofore been; and while her respect was
unaltered, she felt her tenderness toward him becoming the more dominant of the
two emotions. This seemed to allow her to approach him with less trepidation,
although she perhaps gave too little credit for the natural evolution of
character and confidence that accompanies the maturing from girlhood to
womanhood.
Georgiana was reflecting upon this improved state of
affairs as she sat in the shade of the Spanish chestnuts with Mrs. Ashton and
Mrs. Bingley. The latter's gentleness and kindness encouraged in Miss Darcy the
same simple admiration and trust that Jane commonly inspired, yet it was Mrs.
Ashton with whom Georgiana was enthused. Georgiana's sisterly affection toward
Elizabeth was very different from the burgeoning friendship she sensed between
herself and Mrs. Ashton. Although she was many years Mrs. Ashton's junior, over
the last fortnight she had felt a kinship toward this woman she had rarely
experienced in her young life. Georgiana was not a young lady with many
friends--perhaps due to her shyness, perhaps in part to her brother's
protective manner--whatever the cause, while certainly not friendless, she did
feel herself lacking a particular friend. Their common passion for music had
brought them to spend much time together during these lazy summer days at
Pemberley, but it was more, for Mrs. Ashton made Georgiana feel always at her
ease. In truth, there were times when Georgiana could not prevent feeling
intimidated and unequal to the challenge of participating in the witty, playful
repartee between her brother and his wife, na•ve when confronted with Miss
Bingley's worldliness, or over these past days a bit shocked by the beautiful
Mrs. Thorney's eccentricity. Yet with Mrs. Ashton she felt always tranquil and
without fear of appearing silly or young or dull.
Georgiana's pleasant ruminations were, unfortunately,
abruptly disturbed when a footman came out to the sanctuary beneath the
chestnuts where the three ladies were idling away the warm morning to inform
her that Mr. Darcy required her presence in his study. Her calm contentment
collapsed, her face reddened and she felt again as juvenile as when she was an
orphaned girl of no more than eleven and her tall and impressive brother would
enter the classroom and, with a crispness and thoroughness that was both
estimable and frightening, interrogate the governess on her progress as regards
some lesson or another. He had always been generous in his praise when the
report was favorable, but equally eloquent in his reprimand when she fell short
of his exacting standards. Her behavior the prior evening came rushing back to
her and she understood that she had fallen short of those standards and must
now face his justified chastisement. He had not rebuked her even once since the
shameful Ramsgate incident, as though since than he felt she might break should
he be too harsh; albeit in truth she had been both too broken-hearted and too
mortified to be any trouble at all over these two years. The last evening's
outburst toward Lady Catherine had been an anomaly, and as such she hoped for
his leniency. She was only surprised that with the distractions of the morning
she had forgotten till this moment her extraordinary incivility toward Lady
Catherine the previous evening, and equally surprised that her brother had
waited an entire morning before calling her to account. She was quite certain
she had never in her life spoken so completely out of turn and she felt
belatedly ashamed of her audacity.
It had all begun to unfold when Georgiana had quietly asked
that Lady Catherine allow her to decline her petition to hear her niece perform
for the assembled party. Upon hearing Georgiana's negative, Lady Catherine had
shaken her head and waved her hand in the air dismissively. It was a gesture
Georgiana had observed innumerable times and yet on this particular occasion it
had irked her. She was no longer a girl to have her preferences so easily
snubbed, she felt.
"Why do you bother to practice so very continually
Georgiana if you will wilt at the thought of performing? This is hardly such an
impressive assemblage that you should be so tiresomely intimidated. You are too
much your mother's daughter in this regard. Your brother ought to push you
more." At which consideration Lady Catherine called for Darcy.
"Madam?" he inquired indifferently as he came to
her side.
"You are far too indulgent of Georgiana's timidity. I
have requested that she perform and she has denied me. You can not allow such
particularity of character to continue unchecked."
"You can be assured, madam, that I shall not require
Georgiana to perform if she is disinclined to do so," he responded evenly.
"Always so lenient!" Lady Catherine snapped.
"I have told you far too many times and yet you persist in your
determination to permit the girl's whims and apprehensions. She would not be
such a timid little creature had you been more demanding upon her. If my poor
Anne had been blessed with Georgiana's health, I can assure you I should not
have tolerated such behavior, just short of sullenness as it is."
Lady Catherine continued in this manner long enough to inspire
Georgiana's indignation--she knew she was overly timid but her aunt was too
embellishing in her description of the same--and Darcy's reflection. For his
part, as he listened to his aunt underscore his supposed leniency, he wondered
if perhaps quite the opposite had been the case. When he had found himself a
young man with the full responsibility of his much younger sister Lady
Catherine had been similarly diligent in proffering advice. At the time he had
thought her counsel more sound than not and he questioned now whether that had
been the case; if perhaps he had been in fact too exacting and not tender
enough with his sister; if perhaps his relations with his beloved sister had,
in those early days of their orphanage, been infected by what Elizabeth had
described once in heated anger as his disregard for the feelings of others. Had
he, he conjectured, been thoughtful enough to his own darling sister in those
sorrowful days? Lady Catherine's diatribe likewise succeeded in resurfacing the
never extinguished feelings of failure he had felt after the Ramsgate incident.
Had he shown his devotion too coldly? Gifts and indulgences aside, had he been
too strict, too reserved and thus left her adrift to increase her timidity and
leave her vulnerable to the persuasive gifts of that infamous, wretched cad? He
brought his mind back to the present, unwilling to revisit those painful days.
He was surprised by the turn of the conversation when he did return his
attention to its content.
"It is hardly as though the party has not heard you
play, Georgiana. I am sure the entire household was awoken this morning by your
running of scales at some unfortunately early hour."
"I am sorry, madam, if my practicing disturbed you. I
shall be sure to await a later hour to begin from hereon."
"Why bother at all if you will not perform? All your
accomplishments at the pianoforte will not assist you in finding an appropriate husband if you will keep your
accomplishment to yourself."
Darcy's barely contained sigh at his aunt's suggestive use
of the word 'appropriate' did not escape the notice of either the speaker or
her young niece. Georgiana felt a sympathetic wave of indignation, as well as a
more personally inspired sense of impatience rise; she was timid, to be sure,
but she was neither unfeeling nor lacking in perception. Opining that neither
the insinuated slight to her sister nor the dismissal of her own character
should be allowed to stand, and taking courage in the daily example of
Elizabeth's self-possession--the very thing she had come to understand as the
core of her brother's admiration for his wife--she took a deep breath to gather
her nerves before responding curtly, her tone haughty: "I do not play to
find a husband. I play for the great pleasure I derive from music."
Lady Catherine was momentarily speechless as she fixed her
eyes upon her niece, who held her aunt's angered gaze with brave defiance. Her
tone quite surpassing Georgiana's for haughtiness, Lady Catherine replied at
last: "Pray, young lady, have I inquired as to your pleasure?"
Feeling an unaccustomed exhilaration at her boldness,
Georgiana did not relent. "You have not. Nevertheless, I consider myself
full young to be concerned about a husband at this time."
"Perhaps you are full young. Yet with such manners as
you have, apparently, lately developed you shall certainly never secure a
husband of any consequence. As I cannot claim any confidence in your brother's
discernment in such matters, to say nothing of his wife's complete lack of
advantageous connections, I shall certainly be required to manage this process
for you, and clearly, the earlier I begin the task the better."
Unthinkingly, Georgiana blurted out with a dismissiveness
equal to any her aunt or her brother had ever been known to employ: "You
shall do no such thing! Your judgment in such matters is not one that I care to
respect."
Blanching, Lady Catherine turned to Darcy who had listened
to the entire exchange in stunned silence--both in dismay at his sister's
incivility and in admiration of her never before witnessed courage. Lady
Catherine's voice was even, cold, triumphant as she spoke, her eyes steady upon
her nephew's: "And you, Darcy, you stand there in silence allowing her to
address her own aunt in such a brazen manner? Such insolence behind that meek
facade! Is this then the exceptional example your wife has set? I must find the
time to know her better. What a remarkable creature she must be to have
bewitched the Darcys so completely out of any sense of propriety!"
In his anger Darcy quite forgot his sister's
extraordinarily uncustomary forthrightness, but before either he or Lady
Catherine could continue they were required for the sake of civility to attend
to Miss Bingley's performance upon the pianoforte. When Miss Bingley concluded,
Lady Catherine immediately rose and retired to her room with a curt 'good
evening' that did nothing to conceal her displeasure, while Georgiana returned
to her customary silence. Darcy, for his part, turned on his heel and exited to
the terrace, leading the entire party to the obvious conclusion that some
family discord had been unleashed in the quiet corner to which the three had
earlier retreated. Elizabeth did her best to distract the room by insisting
that Miss Bingley favor them again. While Miss Bingley had come to a grudging
acceptance of Mrs. Darcy, she was not generous enough to wish to assist her
former rival in her struggle to distract from the unusual display of familial
dissonance. However, her vanity, to her general detriment and at this moment
Elizabeth's particular advantage, was perhaps her most steady attribute, and
she was pleased enough to have the room's attention returned to her own person
and so quickly obliged.
When Darcy returned from the terrace Elizabeth could see
his temper had not been ameliorated by the cool summer evening and concluded it
would be best to leave her curiosity unquenched. So that when Darcy entered the
master bedchamber later that evening he was greeted not by the petition for
particulars he had anticipated, rather by his wife quietly pouring him a
brandy.
"Ah, a brandy!" Darcy sighed with gratitude,
sinking inelegantly into the settee as his wife handed him a generously filled
glass.
"I should imagine it is just what you require."
Kissing him on the forehead she looked upon his troubled expression before
adding, "Tonight I do not wish to know what occurred between you three. In
the morning there shall be time enough for the unpleasant revelation I anticipate
it shall be."
As she sat at his side he replied simply, "Thank
you."
Without another word, Elizabeth slipped her feet from her
slippers, lifted them from the floor and tucked them beneath herself as she
leaned into his open arm and rested her head upon him. Darcy took another sip
of the brandy while he lazily ran his other hand up and down her arm slowly.
Her summer robe left her arms nearly bare and he found a sort of hypnotic
release in the repetitive motion and an unaffected pleasure in the feel of her
soft skin beneath his hand. After a time Elizabeth reached for the glass and
took a small sip of the warm liquid. Darcy smiled. He found it amusing and
endearing that she would invariably take a few sips of his brandy while
steadfastly refusing a glass of her own. Elizabeth simply found it deliciously
intimate to sip the rich liquid from her husband's glass.
These were some of the moments they both most enjoyed of
their married life together--the quiet moments, the moments of gentle intimacy
when there was neither the sometimes bewildering intensity of their passion,
nor the challenge of wit, nor the demands of society. They simply were--a man
and a woman in harmony.
In due course Darcy perceived Elizabeth's breathing had
grown deeper. "My love," he whispered, "do you sleep?" She
made no reply and his mouth formed the smallest of smiles. Her head lay against
him and her hand had slipped from his chest where it had laid and now stood
atop the knot of his robe and rested against his abdomen. He covered her hand
with his own and sighed with contentment as he gently pulled her closer into
his embrace. "My love," he whispered again as he kissed the top of
her head. "My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."
As he held her thus and listened to the even breathing of
her sweet repose he recalled the first time she had sat thus in his embrace. It
had been their second night as man and wife, after a day in which they had been
filled with all the exhilaration of their new intimacy and all the joyfully
awkward, embarrassed awareness of the same. In just such an embrace, sitting in
the library, they had found their equilibrium and it had been thus evermore. He
closed his eyes and let all his awakened indignation toward Lady Catherine and
his confused disappointment in Georgiana's unusual outburst be forgotten until
the morrow. He would not allow anything to enter into this sacred, innocent
communion.
In the morning he was therefore rested and content, able to
describe the prior evening's incident to Elizabeth with calmness and
dispassion, able to hear her suggestions regarding Georgiana with openness and
able to marvel at his wife's apparent indifference to Lady Catherine's
continued acrimony with good humor.
"I find it remarkable, Elizabeth, that you should be
so forbearing toward Lady Catherine. I should never be so generous," said
he at last.
"Do not mistake the matter, my dear sir," she
replied with a laugh. " You may be the best of men, but I have never
claimed that I am the best of women. You once again mistake my character all
together. It is not goodness which inspires such forbearance, it is
obstinacy."
"Obstinacy? Pray, explain."
"Not two nights ago, by her mere arrival, Lady
Catherine succeeded in working me into a disgraceful panic. I am determined the
good lady shall never do so again. My vanity could not withstand such a
blow."
Darcy laughed, and silently congratulated himself for
having married a woman who could, with just a playful, charmingly impudent turn
of a phrase, defuse even his most recalcitrant anger. So that when Georgiana
entered her brother's study and found him calmly writing some correspondence,
she was surprised by the even and amiable tone in which he instructed her to
sit a moment while he finished his letter.
Nevertheless, when he had finished with his correspondence
and they had begun to discuss why he had summoned her to his study, his tone
was less than easy. Indeed he spoke with as much exasperation as anger, as much
incredulity as indecision. In truth he had no desire to call her to account,
but he knew it to be his obligation to do so.
"Lady Catherine is our aunt," he concluded after
what could not be described as his most vigorous reprimand. "Regardless of
my current differences with her, you are to treat her with respect and the
deference that is her due as your mother's sister."
"Yes, sir." Georgiana weakly replied, her eyes
downcast and her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked such a penitent
child that Darcy regretted his tone; she seemed again to be the timid girl he
was accustomed to fret over and not the strong--if wrong-headed--young lady he
had witnessed on the prior evening. Asking her to please raise her eyes he
continued in a tone of greater amiability.
"You must think me a hypocrite. Lecturing you on your
conduct to Lady Catherine while I have been at complete odds with her?"
"No, sir. I never question your judgment."
To Georgiana's complete amazement, Darcy chuckled before
retorting: "Perhaps you ought to from time to time. I am not as infallible
as I once believed myself to be."
Her eyes grew wide with astonishment at his
self-deprecation, to which he responded by holding out his hand to her.
"Come," he commanded, and as she did he enfolded her in a brief,
tender embrace, before continuing in a tone lacking in chastisement, and rich
in camaraderie. As Georgiana listened she could not deny the delightful
sensation that he was speaking to her, for the first time she was sure, as
something like an equal.
"I do not expect you to accept such commentary from
our aunt, nor such presumption. However there are more appropriate manners in
which to express your disagreement. Although you understand the general cause,
I have never shared with you the particulars of my argument with Lady
Catherine. It seems belated and unnecessary now. I will only say that when two
duties conflict a husband must always choose first his wife's honor. You had no
such conflict and your behavior was uncalled for. An unrestrained expression of
disagreement is a sign of neither strength nor wit."
"Do you wish me to apologize to my aunt?"
"I wish you to apologize for the manner of your
address, if not for the intention. You must never apologize to any one, not
even me, for defending your integrity or that of those you love." He paused,
before adding softly, "Georgiana, your ordinarily timid demeanor is
nothing for which you must be ashamed, but I should never have you meek. Your
manner last evening notwithstanding, I am very proud of your courage. Some
would have you believe it otherwise, but a woman does not cease to be a lady
for possessing valor."
Wanting nothing more than to be deserving of his praise,
she quickly replied, "I shall go to her now."
He smiled at her eagerness. "Not so swiftly. I did not
ask you here merely to speak of Lady Catherine. For while your manner was at
fault, you reminded me last night that you are no longer a girl, and you begin
to know your own mind, and so I wish to put something to you for your
consideration." As concern returned to Georgiana's expression, Darcy's
smile widened. "I believe you shall find it a very pleasing matter."
Darcy then explained to Georgiana the invitation Mrs.
Ashton had extended to her through Elizabeth to attend her musical evenings in
Town. Darcy could not but be pleased that he had not dismissed the offer out of
hand when he saw the heart felt delight that diffused over Georgiana's face.
"Oh William!" she cried. "Would you truly allow me to
attend?"
"That Mrs. Ashton should have the delicacy to approach
Elizabeth first and enumerate openly what she felt might be my concerns--the
attendance of performers and the like--shows she is a lady to be trusted. And
as your sister reminded me, I must trust you that you might learn to trust
yourself as well."
"You shall not be displeased that you have, dear, dear
brother!"
"Oh yes, I am very dear now!" he remarked
teasingly.
Georgiana laughed at his silliness with such gayety that
Darcy could not be untouched.
"May I go to Mrs. Ashton now and tell her you have
given your permission?"
"You may, but only after speaking to Lady Catherine
and offering your regret for your manner last evening."
As Darcy watched his sister depart his study he felt an enormous
sense of satisfaction, sure they had made an important step away from the
relation of guardian and ward and closer to the relation of brother and sister,
of the true friendship they both so desired. Before returning to his remaining
correspondence he walked to the window through which he saw his wife turning
into the lane toward the cutting garden. Turning back to his desk he quickly
assessed the correspondence that awaited his attention. "Nothing so very
pressing, after all," he whispered to himself. With a small smile gracing
his lips, he left his study and made his way to the cutting garden where he
found his wife busily selecting fresh flowers for the parlor. Coming up behind
her and overwhelmed with tenderness he wrapped his arms around her and let his
hands come to rest upon her belly.
"You are very affectionate this morning,"
Elizabeth replied lovingly.
"What I am, my love, is a very happy man and I have
you and our child to thank for that blessing."
Elizabeth turned into his embrace and smiled warmly.
"I do not know to what I owe this outpouring of devotion, but I shall
happily take it all in."
"Do, please," he said as he lowered his lips to
her own.
From the upstairs picture gallery Lady Catherine watched
the entire exchange. She had been in the gallery considering the unpleasant
addition of a new portrait to this hallowed hall filled with pictures of all
her nephew's great and noble ancestors when she observed her nephew's wife
entering the garden below. As she watched her, dressed in a simple and
unpretentious muslin gown, her resentment toward the object of her observation
seemed reborn. She had lived for years with the gratifying conviction that
Darcy would one day take on responsibility for Anne and the legacy of Rosings
Park; she had been certain that once the restlessness of youth had been
properly satisfied that he would have done just that, taken Anne and Rosings
Park under his care, thereby fulfilling both his duty to his family and all her
own ambitions. But then this upstart had appeared and bewitched him, destroying
all her plans for uniting the two great estates, for ensuring the excellent
management of Rosings Park and taking from her all the comfort she would have
had in having for her daughter a husband that could be trusted and respected.
Now she must start afresh when Anne was no longer in her first bloom and find a
husband for her poor sickly child that she could trust as she had once so
trusted Darcy.
She was no fool, no unworldly simpleton. When the rumors of
an engagement had first reached her had she not understood that Miss Elizabeth
Bennet was just the sort of young lady who could lure her nephew into a
compromise and thus disrupt all her carefully laid plans? Lady Catherine could
not deny that her nephew's wife had a sort of vigorous grace, a peculiarly
sweet defiance and delicate wit that could entrap a vital and intelligent
gentleman like Darcy. That acknowledgement was one matter, but believing her
worthy to be mistress of Pemberley, sufficiently extraordinary of a lady to
justify Darcy's throwing over Anne, his duty and his family--that was another
matter all together.
As Lady Catherine watched Darcy enter the garden and
embrace and kiss his wife she comprehended as well that she herself had found
something in the former Miss Bennet appealing when she had so generously
attended to her in Kent. Was that not why, when considering the rumors of an
engagement between her nephew and Miss Bennet, she had not doubted the
possibility. If not, why the rush to Longbourn to have the girl deny it, to
have her promise to forsake him? If not, why that ill-fated confrontation with
her nephew in Town? And with what calm surety he had rejected her petitions and
denied that an implicit understanding had ever existed between himself and his
cousin.
"Am I to understand then that I have designed Anne's
entire future based upon a misapprehension?" she had cried in desperation.
Darcy's response had been so tranquil, and yet so forceful
and impassive, that he had left his aunt without argument. "Lady
Catherine, I make no claim to comprehend upon what grounds you make decisions
regarding your daughter's future, nor do I care to have you elucidate them.
Allow me, nevertheless, to be quite clear. I am my own master in every manner.
No young lady can make any claims whatsoever upon me nor have I any claim on
any young lady. That said, you may be certain, madam, that should I become
engaged it shall be to the young lady of my choosing and I shall be guided by
nothing but my own conscious. Do we understand one another, aunt?"
And there below her were the fruits of his conscious. Her
nephew flirting in the garden with his own wife like some reckless, inelegant
schoolboy; her own position in the family dishonored by the insolence of a heretofore
biddable niece; a tradesman and his wife her companions at table; she required
to suffer the ignominy of seeing her sickly daughter the object of compassion
from her nephew's healthy, spirited wife.
As she watched the couple abandon the garden, Lady
Catherine felt a tremendous rage and a tremendous powerlessness. She wanted
nothing more than to force a rift between that girl with all her vigor and her
infatuated nephew, to at the very least make him suffer even some small pang of
regret, to make the girl understand that she had not won her place without
suffering consequences for her ambition. But as they disappeared from her sight
and she turned back into the room and let her eyes rest upon the just hung
portrait of Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, Lady Catherine doubted not that hers was a
hopeless aspiration. Had not the former Miss Bennet herself warned Lady
Catherine that the world in general would have too much sense to join in any
familial scorn should she marry Darcy? And it had been thus--certainly their
marriage had not been celebrated, but neither had it been censured. With his
vast fortune it was generally considered perfectly within the gentleman's
prerogative to marry whomsoever he desired, and that he had done so only seemed
to solidify his reputation as a man of independence who could not be swayed by
anything but his own self interest--and only he could know where that lie. Even
her brother the Earl had been little more than resigned. "It should have
been quite preferable that he marry Anne, sister, but what am I to do about it
now?" That had been all his commentary, before returning to his port and
his cigar.
Lady Catherine turned away from the portrait of Elizabeth
Darcy and began to make her way to the parlor. She had never felt so entirely
alone.
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