Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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A family
party, interrupted
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"Molly, I think I would prefer the pale yellow," Elizabeth
said to her young maid, pointing to a simple, graceful muslin gown. "Much
more appropriate for a picnic than the green one."
"Yes mistress," Molly replied. "There may be
a breeze today," she added when Elizabeth was dressed. "May I suggest
that the yellow gown would be prettily complimented by the Spanish shawl the
master recently gave you?"
"Oh yes it would, Molly. Please bring it."
"There now, how do I look?" Elizabeth inquired as
Molly draped the elegant, fine shawl onto her shoulders. Before Molly could
reply a deep voice came from across the room.
"Fetching, Mrs. Darcy."
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth cried. "How long have
you been lurking there?" Darcy shrugged his shoulders, the hint of a smile
on his lips. Leaning unceremoniously against the doorframe, his arms crossed,
his expression warm, and his informal attire adding a certain softness to his
mien, Elizabeth could not but silently observe that he himself looked rather
fetching and found herself regretting the day's itinerary which would give them
not a single occasion for privacy. At moments such as this she reflected that
she had become quite shockingly immodest in her thoughts.
"Molly, that will be all, you may go now."
As Molly left Mrs. Darcy's dressing room she espied Mr.
Darcy approaching his wife with a roguish smile upon his face. Molly understood
her responsibilities, and did in no way undervalue the trust the master and
mistress displayed in her discretion by allowing her such small glimpses of
their intimacy. The trust was not misplaced and Molly did not gossip; yet at
moments like this her youthful sensibility reared and she could not help but
discreetly observe to Mrs. Reynolds how devoted to each other were the master
and mistress.
As the door shut behind Molly, Elizabeth turned to her
husband with a generous and welcoming smile. "You really must stop making
a habit of sneaking up on me unobserved so that you might watch me equally
unobserved."
"I do not sneak, Elizabeth. If I am unobserved it is
merely due to your own willful lack of attention, since you really are a remarkably
observant woman. I would have to assume, consequently, that you rather enjoy
that I sneak up on you in this manner. As to the matter of watching you, I
simply cannot oblige you. Since our earliest acquaintance I have been unable to
keep my eyes from you."
"So I recall," Elizabeth laughed. "All the
while I thought you looked at me only to find fault."
"How very foolish of you." Darcy wrapped his arms
around Elizabeth and smiled. "You fascinated me as Miss Bennet and you
continue to fascinate me as Mrs. Darcy. Everything about you fascinates
me." Lifting his hand he took hold of a curl that hung behind her ear.
"Such as the manner in which this tiny curl always persists in escaping
the confines of your hairpins."
"All this time I have thought myself fortunate to have
such a sensible and clever husband. If you cannot explain why a little curl
could possibly be a source of fascination I may have to reconsider."
"Nothing so simple. This little curl and its
determination is just like your spirit." Elizabeth arched her eyebrows
disbelievingly. "It cannot be contained. It will be independent, unbound,
free. When I look upon it I see something so extraordinarily lovely that I must
struggle to suppress my desire to touch it."
Darcy promptly demonstrated, kissing the curl before
sinking his head down to that delectable expanse where neck and shoulder join
and proceeding to kiss her warm and soft skin. "My own Eliza," he
murmured. "My fetching, bewitching, fascinating Elizabeth."
"Fitzwilliam!" She softly replied. Darcy adored
it when she called him Fitzwilliam, and not William as his sister did. There was something alluring and
tantalizing with promise in the manner in which she purred out the long
syllables of his name, and as the only person to ever use, something
deliciously intimate as well. "Much as I am enjoying your
attentions."
"Are you?"
"Very much indeed. You know I have become unspeakably
immodest and do not hesitate to tell you frankly everything you make me
feel."
He halted his attentions and looked her squarely in the
eyes. "Immodest? What absurdity is this? When we are in the privacy of our
chambers, when it is only you and I, society's regulations have no place. Had
we not long ago agreed to that?"
"Yes, we had."
"In truth, even from our earliest acquaintance you and
I have never really done anything as society would require it of us. We have
been frank and open in every manner, two equal minds, two equal hearts, and, in
the end, the better for it."
"Be that as it may," she replied with a wistful
smile, "society's rule cannot be altogether forgotten. It would not do for
us to leave our guests waiting upon us and I would surmise that if we do not
make our way to the drawing room they will be doing precisely that."
"We are still just a family party, Elizabeth. We
hardly need stand on such formality." She shook her head, amused by his
persistence. "What is the point of being master if one must be subject to
such strictures?" he remarked as she grasped his hand and pulled him
toward the door.
"Such torments you must bear, Mr. Darcy!"
"Yes, torments Elizabeth," he lightheartedly
responded as they stepped out into the hallway. "Delightful and delicious
torments, I grant you."
Darcy and Elizabeth entered the drawing room to find
Charles Bingley excitingly extolling the virtues of his wife to Georgiana
Darcy, while said wife sat in placid reception of the same. "Poor
Georgiana really must be growing tired of hearing the virtues of Jane,"
Elizabeth laughed. "Between you and I Charles there is no end. But I
promise, Georgiana, the day will not be limited to the same. Once Miss Bingley
arrives we will depart."
Miss Bingley's arrival was not punctual, yet it had a
certain studied vigor. She swept into the drawing room in full regalia. Head
high and with a general air of dominion, she considered the group briefly
before declaring: "You all look absolutely charming this morning, so
unaffectedly informal."
"We are going to picnic, after all." Darcy noted,
as he considered Miss Bingley's quite inappropriate attire. But then, he
reflected, for all her indisputable understanding of the fashionable, she had
long shown a propensity toward an unbending formality of attire. He had never
recognized before how ridiculously supercilious it could appear. Unconsciously
he put his hand over Elizabeth's, where it rested neatly in the crook of his
arm, and grasped it affectionately before announcing that the carriage was
waiting.
Elizabeth had planned a picnic in a particularly
picturesque spot at the edge of the estate: known as Cranston's lake, it was
not really a lake, rather a large pond. The pond sat in a flat, shallow valley
surrounded on the one side by a grouping of verdant trees and in the distance by
the lovely Derbyshire peaks. Wild flowers in bright yellows and purples
abundantly adorned the pond's circumference, and the valley itself was covered
with a rich, thick carpet of grasses. When the party arrived at the site, the
gentlemen on horseback and the ladies in carriage, they beheld a charming
sight. A comfortable distance from the pond was laid out an enormous cotton
mantle, sheltered from the sun by a billowing canopy. An impressive array of
cold meats, cheeses, fruits, cakes and light wines were presented underneath
with unaffected elegance. In total
it had a slightly exotic air, like something from the fabled Arabian Nights.
Darcy dismounted from his horse and shook his head in
pleasant disbelief. He had not been wholly inclined for a picnic, telling
Elizabeth he much preferred taking his meals in a civilized fashion--sitting at
his own table. "Man advanced from sitting on his haunches while consuming
his meals quite some time ago," he had asserted. Elizabeth had only
laughed at his aversion and prevailed upon him to indulge her.
"I say, Darcy," Bingley said as he stepped to
Darcy's side. "Lizzy has outdone herself."
"Undeniably," he remarked. Approaching the
carriage he handed the ladies out, and as Elizabeth exited he leaned in close
to her and whispered, "I acknowledge my error, Elizabeth. There is nothing
uncivilized about this at all. Indeed, it promises to be quite charming. May I
offer my congratulations?"
She laughed happily. "Mr. Darcy, you really ought to
learn the full capacity of Pemberley's staff. It is remarkable, given the
opportunity, what imagination they possess."
"So I see, my dear."
The party sat down to a long, leisurely meal. The afternoon
was magnificent, with mild temperature and an agreeable breeze. The setting and
the near intimacy of the party encouraged an easy informality and the ladies,
with the exception of Miss Bingley who wore one of her ubiquitous turbans, soon
removed their bonnets and the two gentlemen lounged, hatless, like stretched
cats. Conversation was casual.
Miss Bingley took in the scene with interest. She had never
seen Mr. Darcy so informal and relaxed, but more so, she was fascinated by the
differing behavior of the two married couples before her. Both had been,
undeniably and somewhat notoriously in the case of the Darcys, marriages of
affection, and yet that affection was displayed so differently as to be worthy
of note. She had long found her brother's manner with Jane overly solicitous,
too obvious and inelegant. The unvarying, unguarded references to her beauty,
her sweetness, to her being his very angel were tiresome to hear and seemed to
somehow diminish the value of the words, if not the sentiments themselves. It
was the sort of behavior she was wont to mock with her friends when gentlemen
chose their affections over their interests, leaving them all to conclude that
a marriage of interests in which the parties were compatible was far more
desirable. In Mr. Darcy, however, to both her relief and her consternation, she
saw something different. She could not have borne to see the man she still
admired show himself a fool in love; his marriage itself had been sufficiently
mortifying. His manner of showing affection for his wife did not disappoint her
expectations, and she saw a restrained, careful attention to his wife's needs
and wants, a subtle, delicate profusion of tenderness that surprised her in a
man she was long accustomed to admire for his aloof formality. And she could
not deny that Mrs. Darcy returned an equally tender, equally unobtrusive
regard. Their mutual affection was, to her continued vexation, as unmistakable
as that between her brother and his wife, and yet it was not at all overt and
seemed therefore, to her mind, more precious.
Before she had time to feel again the loss of such a man,
and before her old resentment toward the former Miss Bennet could be reborn by
such reflections, she did what her sister had counseled to ensure continued
admittance to PemberleyÑshe took sanctuary in civility.
"Mrs. Darcy, may I offer my compliments. You have
provided us with a most delightful afternoon."
"Thank you, Miss Bingley. I trust it has been
agreeable to all."
"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley continued, "all
the times I have visited Pemberley you have never brought your guests to this
delightful spot. It really is very quaint."
"I rediscovered this lake, so to speak, while touring
the park with Mrs. Darcy. It has since become a favorite spot for us
both."
"I believe this is also the very first time I have
been on a picnic at Pemberley, is that not correct Charles? Can you recall a
picnic before?"
"Not at the moment," he replied indifferently.
"A picnic is such a charming country activity!"
Miss Bingley had the unfortunate propensity of sounding insincere even at those
moments in which she wished to be sincere. She was so concerned with her
interest and her position within society that her calculation sadly diminished
her not insubstantial advantages: she was, after all, a handsome and
well-educated lady, a clever and experienced hostess, capable of charm, and,
not of little importance, in possession of a fortune worth twenty thousand
pounds. Regrettably, her ambition was, visibly, her dominant trait, so that her
arts were often obvious and in that obviousness often lay her certain failure.
In this instance she had intended to compliment Elizabeth; the result had been
less than successful.
"Yes, well, we are in the country, Miss Bingley,"
Elizabeth replied archly. "And on a most splendid day. Would anyone care
to take a turn with me along the water's edge?"
Miss Bingley opted to remain under the canopy and out of
the sun and encouraged Georgiana to do the same. Darcy and Bingley understood
their wives might enjoy a private walk and so declined as well. As Elizabeth
and Jane rose from the picnic and made their way across the field and toward
the lake, Darcy observed them in thoughtful silence.
"Such thoughtfulness will not do at a picnic,
Darcy," Bingley finally interjected. "What could possibly have you so
serious now?"
Darcy smiled good-naturedly at his friend's mirth. "I
am thinking about your future, Bingley."
"My future? Why I think that is all decided now, yours
too, these past eight months," Bingley laughed.
"You are wrong. My future is certainly decided, yours,
however, is not."
"You can be so cryptic when you choose. Whatever do
you mean?"
Darcy turned his attention back to Elizabeth and Jane. They
walked with their heads slightly inclined one toward the other; they spoke
easily and an atmosphere of contentment surrounded them. "Bingley,"
Darcy said at last, "Why don't you give up Netherfield altogether?"
"Give up Netherfield? Now?"
"Yes. Give it up entirely. Purchase a property here in
the north. What better gift could you give your wife than a home close to
Elizabeth?"
Bingley sat up in surprise, his mouth dropping open as he
contemplated the suggestion. He too turned his attentions to the sisters as
they continued their stroll. Just at that moment a silly giggle could be heard wafting
in the air. "What a splendid notion, Darcy. Why had I not thought of it
myself?"
Miss Bingley, who, along with her sister Louisa, had long
desired that her brother purchase his own estate, immediately seconded Darcy's
suggestion. Directly assuming the argument, she began to enumerate the many
reasons why he should leave Netherfield for the north. Wisely she emphasized
Jane's certain happiness were she close to her most beloved sister and did not
mention what would be her own source of personal delight, to be far from the
mortifying Mrs. BennetÑshe could hardly invite her acquaintances to her
brother's country estate when that woman's constant presence was assured. Miss
Bingley had no difficult task in truth, for Bingley was certain, now he thought
on it, that given the choice, Jane would prefer to be closer to Elizabeth than
to Longbourn.
Seeing Miss Bingley entertained in discourse, Georgiana
stood and approached her own brother. "Will you walk with me?" she
asked as she held out her hand.
"It would be my pleasure." Darcy stood, taking her
hand and affectionately placing it upon his arm as they began to walk together
at a leisurely pace. Darcy absently noticed that she seemed a little taller and
wondered when she would stop growing. She was becoming a handsome and sensible
young lady, unpretentious and elegant, and he was immensely proud of her. What
pleased him most, however, was a certain lightness of bearing that he detected
in her air for the first time.
"Is my darling girl enjoying herself on this splendid
afternoon?"
"Very much. I wonder we never thought before to have a
picnic here."
"I think Elizabeth has opened our eyes to many
possibilities, has she not? I suppose we were a bit of a sober pair on our own
for so many years."
"Perhaps given our circumstances and characters it was
inevitable."
"Perhaps," Darcy replied.
They continued to stroll for a time in the companionable
silence that was so often their custom. "You will think me silly,
brother," Georgiana suddenly remarked. "I am almost envious of
Elizabeth and Mrs. Bingley."
"Did Mrs. Bingley not request that you call her
Jane?"
"Very well. Elizabeth and Jane."
"Better. Now, tell me, why would my dear sister, who
is all kindness, feel something as mean as envy?" His tone was mild, yet Georgiana
knew him disappointed with the sentiment expressed.
"Their accord is palpable," she replied after a
moment.
"Does not Elizabeth adore you and does not your
brother dote upon you?"
"You must think me an ungrateful sister."
"I think nothing of the kind. Pray, Georgiana,
explain. I would wish for you to feel you can always confide in me. You have
done so in the past."
"Do not misapprehend. You are the dearest and best
brother a sister could desire. As regards Elizabeth, I dare claim that she has
been as much a source of happiness for me as she has been for you." The
expression that spread across Darcy's face upon hearing this avowal clearly
revealed how dubiously he viewed said assertion. "Well, perhaps not as
much," Georgiana smiled sweetly. "I can affirm, however, that you,
who have always given me my every wish, have also given me as a sister someone
I have grown to admire and regard as sincerely as you yourself could wish me
to."
"I am pleased. I could not be happy at your expense,
Georgiana. I still do not comprehend your initial statement, however. Will you
not explain?"
Gesturing toward the sisters as they continued their
stroll, she explained: "Can you not see when they are together the deep
understanding, the confidence and trust? It is something that cannot be born
from a moment's acquaintance, but only from a life shared. Although I have
found in Elizabeth a true friend and confidant, indeed a sister in every
manner, they clearly share a bond of unusual strength. I should have liked to
know such an openness and trust."
"With me you do not feel such openness and
trust?" Darcy inquired, wounded by the possibility.
"William, I am afraid I am explaining myself very ill.
You I trust as none other, implicitly, entirely. Although you claimed otherwise
after that disgraceful Ramsgate incident, the truth is that you have never once
failed me. Yet it is only natural that you and I should not have the same
intimacy they so evidently share, even should we have desired it so. They are
sisters and close in age; whereas I am a sister more than ten years my
brother's junior. After all you have been more father to me than brother.
Perhaps I use 'envious' inaccurately. I admire their unity and would wish to be
fortunate enough to experience such closeness myself."
As Georgiana finished speaking she looked at her brother
with a gentle, affectionate smile. Her soft blue eyes held the same timid,
docile expression as always, and yet in her face he saw something less girlish
than usual, and in her tone a new maturity. Spontaneously Darcy leaned over and
kissed her on the cheek while softly squeezing the hand that rested upon his
arm.
"To what do I owe such tenderness?" she inquired.
"Because you are dearer to me than words can express, Georgiana.
And because you are no longer the frightened little girl who came to me seeking
comfort when her father died and did not know that she was a greater comfort to
me than I could ever hope to be for her. Perhaps, Georgiana, it is time I
become a little less father and a little more brother and we can learn to share
more confidences."
"I should like that very much, my dearest
brother." Her eyes grew teary with emotion and she leaned her head against
his shoulder just as she had when she was just such a frightened girl.
The display of tenderness did not go unobserved. "What
a pretty picture they make," Jane remarked as she continued arm-in-arm
with Elizabeth around the water's edge.
"They are devoted to each other, Jane. Sometimes, when
I see them together, tender as they are now, I remember how horribly I once
misjudged him and I feel such pangs of remorse."
"That is not like you at all Lizzy. Did you not tell
me that in cases such as these a good memory is unpardonable?" Jane
laughed.
"Indeed it is Jane. I suppose I love him so very
dearly now that I am angry with myself for having ever caused him pain. Now
when I truly understand the depth of his affections, the generosity of his
heart, I am ashamed."
"I am very surprised at you Lizzy. You have never been
one inclined toward melancholy or recrimination."
"Oh, do not be concerned Jane. I say this now in
passing only to you. Once I told Mr. Darcy how mortified I was by my past
cruelty and he grew quite angry with me, insisting that all the fault was his.
He would not have me castigating myself, for while my opinions had been formed
on mistaken premises, his behavior had been at fault. He would not allow me any
fault at all."
"Naturally he would not, he loves you Lizzy. That is
plain for anyone to see from the manner in which he looks at you and cares for
you. He does not show his regard in any undue manner, he is discreet and
proper, reserved as is his wont, but it is nevertheless evident. Charles has
said that he is still a little startled when he sees you and Darcy together."
"Startled, Jane?"
"Startled by the change he has seen in Mr.
Darcy."
"In what manner?"
"As you are aware Charles and Mr. Darcy became
acquainted with each other after the elder Mr. Darcy had died. Charles tells me
that Mr. Darcy was always the cleverest man in the room, sharp and witty. He
was the envy of many menÑrich, handsome, his own master, and with an enviable
air of command and decisiveness. But Charles was struck by a certain almost
secret sadness in his eyes, something he never had the courage to discuss with
Mr. Darcy himself, but which drew Charles to him. That sadness, he insists, is
now gone and it gives to Mr. Darcy's countenance a different, slightly softened
appearance, and it startles him as he has not yet grown accustomed to it. He is
delighted for his friend."
Elizabeth did not respond, instead she turned her gaze upon
her husband and his sister and watched them walking peacefully together across
the park. She smiled and turned to Jane. "If you are half as happy as I am
Jane, then we are both very fortunate women."
"I can not measure your happiness against my own
Lizzy. Indeed, we each have our own character and so we have our own manner of
happiness. Yet I suspect that we are both happier than we ever imagined we
could be when we would sit together at night and share our dreams."
"All I would require for perfect happiness would be to
have you closer. We shall always be at Pemberley, but Netherfield is no legacy
for Charles. Can you not encourage him to purchase an estate in the north? Can
you imagine, Jane, if, in addition to every other happiness, we were
near?"
"That would answer my every wish. In truth, I am a
little ashamed to confess that at times I feel I am too near to some and too
far away from others. Am I ungenerous for such thoughts, unkind?"
"You have more patience than you ought. I have read
your letters with your tales of daily visits from Mama and Aunt Philips and I
am recalled to an odd little conversation Mr. Darcy and I once hadÑor at least
it seemed odd at the time, now it seems so obvious that I wonder at my lack of
perception. In any case, we were discussing whether it might be possible for a
woman to be settled too near her family. I am now of the firm conviction that
it is and you should not be ashamed to acknowledge it so. I have no scruples in
acknowledging it better for all that it be you and Charles, with your easy
natures, who are settled three miles from Longbourn and that Mr. Darcy and I
are settled three days from Longbourn."
"I think you perhaps give Charles and me too much
credit, and Mr. Darcy and yourself not enough."
"Perhaps. Yet when I was reading your letters and
found myself delightfully installed far away at Pemberley I could not be but
grateful. So you see, I am the one who is unkind, not you. But I have a
solution. If you cannot convince Charles to give up Netherfield, you could
always come and spend months upon months here at Pemberley. After all, it's so
enormous we might lose you completely from sight for days."
"Lizzy! I have so missed you," Jane laughed.
"I must acknowledge I was surprised when we first came over the hill and
saw the house itself and I did find it enormous. Not a single description I
have heard does merit to Pemberley's grandeur. You seemed to have settled on
'beautiful', Charles on 'impressive', and of course Caroline has long
proclaimed it the embodiment of elegance. My father, of course, was even more
circumspect. All he would say when he returned from visiting Pemberley was that
you had done quite well for yourself and that your Mr. Darcy appeared, in his
own particular manner, very devoted."
"Oh Jane, many days I awaken and I cannot believe that
I am the mistress of so much. I think I must have dreamt it all, the wonderful
husband, the beautiful grounds, the elegant rooms. But then I turn my head and
see my darling husband sleeping at my side and I am returned to the reality of
my great fortune."
"Does he always sleep with you then?" Jane asked
softly, surprising herself at the inquiry.
"Yes, Jane. What will you think? I would have it no
other way. Are you shocked?"
"Not at all. Merely surprised."
"And why should you be surprised?"
"Just that he is so formal and correct in everything
he does. And that appears a rather informal choice." Jane stopped and
blushed. "Forgive me Lizzy. We should not be discussing this."
"Why ever not? It is only between you and I. It is
true that Mr. Darcy is formal, correct, often reserved in company. But when we
are alone, oh Jane! When we are alone he is all tenderness, affection and
candor. Even playful, if you can imagine. That he behaves in such a manner only
when alone with me gratifies me most foolishly." Elizabeth stopped walking
and turned to face her sister. She took Jane's hands into her own, her face
aglow with feeling. "Jane! Jane! Do you not feel as though you love
Charles more now than when you married him? As though each day you feel your
heart expanding from the love that overwhelms it, from that delicious,
beguiling mixture of peacefulness and passion."
"Not precisely," Jane smiled sweetly, amused by
Elizabeth's ardent expression. "I have always felt the same constant and
deep regard for Charles; I cannot say that it has altered. But then, we are
very different creatures you and I. Charlotte always said that you were the
romantic one and you would laugh at her, but I begin to suspect that she may
have been correct after all. We both feel deeply and faithfully, Lizzy, but you
have always been more passionate and I more serene in the execution of the
same."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, a little embarrassed by her
outburst of emotion. "Before I expose myself more, perhaps we had better
return to the rest of our party. The afternoon is drawing to a close."
Jane smiled and the sisters embraced warmly before rejoining the others.
That evening the party was gathered in the yellow drawing
room used during the warmer summer months. The doors were opened wide onto a
terrace that overlooked the park and a gentle breeze cooled and refreshed the
room. After the pleasant afternoon by Cranston's lake, they were indulging in
an equally calm and informal evening. Georgiana and Jane were sitting together
and quietly chatting while each worked on a piece of embroidery, whilst the
remaining four played cards. Elizabeth was highly amused by Miss Bingley's
persistent compliments to the excellence of Mr. Darcy's game.
"I am so fortunate to be partnered with you this
evening, Mr. Darcy. You are consistently an astute and challenging competitor.
You really must explain to me the reasoning behind some of the more daring
plays you have made."
"Yes, my dear Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth remarked
mischievously. "You really are making a mockery of our game, is that not
so Charles? But I am sure, sir, that you would credit Miss Bingley for equally
excellent play."
"Naturally," he replied indifferently. His wife
was finding the spectacle far too amusing and he really loathed playing with a
partner that could not remain quiet and focused on the game. The hand
completed, he therefore suggested they forego another round.
"But this has been so delightful," Miss Bingley
replied. "Shall we not play another hand? Pray, Mr. Darcy, will you not
indulge me? I do so enjoy a challenging game of cards."
"I really must decline, Miss Bingley. However, your
relish for cards will be easily satisfied soon enough. The remainder of our
party will arrive in two days time and you will then have ample sources of
competition." Darcy bowed and removed to another part of the room where he
took up a book.
"Perhaps you will indulge me in another matter, Mrs.
Darcy. I am curious as to who and how many make up the party that is to join
us."
"Certainly. There will be five, possibly six. Sir
Patrick MacLaighid, who as you know is the Member of Parliament for Donegal.
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Ashton, Mr. and Mrs. John Thorney, who, if we are
fortunate, may be accompanied by the young painter Mr. John Constable. Mr.
Constable is currently working on a commission for Mr. and Mrs. Thorney,
painting Alresford Hall. We would like him to paint Pemberley for us."
"I did not know you were a connoisseur of painting,
Mrs. Darcy."
"I am not. However, when we were in Town we did see
some of his works at the home of some acquaintances and found them very
appealing."
"A painter and an Irish Member, how singular,"
Miss Bingley remarked, unable to fathom such a motley combination and curious
to see how the party would interact.
"Since we are no longer to play cards, Miss Bingley,
would you pleasure us with a song at the pianoforte?" Elizabeth responded,
imperturbable to anything Miss Bingley insinuated, intentionally or otherwise.
She had certainly shown an effort to treat her with more civility than had been
her habit when she was just Miss Bennet, and so she was determined to return
the civility for Jane's sake, as well as Georgiana's, who seemed, if not deeply
attached to her, accustomed to her. Otherwise she could not abide her tiresome
snobbery. As Miss Bingley sat down to oblige Elizabeth's request, Matthews, the
butler, entered the room.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy."
"Yes Matthews, what is it?"
"A gentleman has called and is waiting upon you in the
blue drawing room."
"At this hour? Did he not give his name,
Matthews?"
"Yes sir. Lord Chiltern."
The expression of astonishment that spread across Darcy's
often inscrutable face could not be disguised. "Lord Chiltern! Are you
certain he said Lord Chiltern?"
"Yes sir. His card, sir." Darcy took the
proffered card and stared at it for a moment in silence.
"Tell him I shall be there directly."
"You are acquainted with Lord Chiltern, Darcy?"
Bingley inquired excitedly.
"Yes, I am."
"Is it the Lord Chiltern?"
"I know of only one, Bingley," he groused.
"May I go with you, Darcy?"
"I should prefer to attend him in private."
Turning to Elizabeth, he remarked, with a vague anticipation of disarray:
"Mrs. Darcy, it is possible we shall have another guest. I am not
certain."
"Lord Chiltern, well, I'll be." Bingley mumbled
as Darcy exited the room.
"You have both reacted to this gentleman's name with
great emotion, Charles. Who is Lord Chiltern?" Elizabeth asked.
"I know of Lord Chiltern, Lizzy, but I am not personally acquainted
with him. Indeed, I had no notion that Darcy was. He has a reputation among the
Clubs as an adventurer."
A general sense of curiosity settled about the drawing room
as they awaited Darcy's return, and with it an explanation to this peculiar
interruption to their family party.
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Austen Interlude Author Directory