Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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The Mistress
of Pemberley
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Elizabeth walked into the dinning room, stopped at the head
of the table, and silently considered the luxury and elegance that lay before
her. The crystal stemware was lined down the expanse of the table in perfect
symmetry; the Spanish linens were luminous from the finely woven silken threads
therein; the silver reflected the delicate hue of the fragrant flowers that
were dispersed up and down the table's center as clearly as a still pond
reflects a crisp blue sky. Everything was laid to perfection. A more refined
and sumptuous room could not be imagined, and yet for all the finery, the room
was free of ostentation. She sighed, cocked her head to the side and bit her
lower lip.
Darcy, who stood beside her, wondered how it was possible for
a woman to look as alluring as she did this evening--in her delicate and
becoming golden silk gown--yet simultaneously so innocently adorable. He
concluded it was just another of her charming contradictions and thought it
better to determine what was amiss seeing as her lower lip remained captured
within the grip of her perfectly white teeth.
"What is it, my love?" he inquired.
She replied without looking at him. "That is a very
long and very elegant table."
He did not at first understand the import of her comment,
but as he followed her gaze down the luxurious expanse of their table it
occurred to him that it would not be particularly remarkable should she be
feeling somewhat anxious. While they had certainly entertained with regularity
both at Pemberley and in London since they wed, they had never entertained to
such a scale before--neither in quantity of guests nor with such ceremony. Some
of the families that were to dine at Pemberley this evening had in fact already
been entertained by the Darcys, or had entertained the young couple themselves,
but those evenings were far more familiar in nature, far less formal. When he
had remarked to Elizabeth that 'Pemberley must be Pemberley again' he had
spoken half in jest. But only half, and she had understood what import this
evening held both for him and for them. Indeed it was almost late in coming,
but he had been reticent before now and she had been perhaps even more so.
Pemberley was to reopen its doors to the neighborhood for the first time in
many years, and they were to visibly take the place within Derbyshire society
long reserved for the master and mistress of Pemberley. He found it endearing
that she might need reassurance.
"Yes," he replied at last. "It is a very
long and very elegant table, and you shall preside over it with your customary lan, making it a very charming table
as well."
She turned her face to his, a less than fully confident
expression upon her mien. "I do hope that is true. I would not wish to be
a disappointment. Will you think less of me if I confess I am rather
intimidated by this evening."
"Intimidated?" he inquired, as he smiled broadly.
"Then how fortunate that your courage always rises at every attempt to
intimidate you."
Elizabeth laughed happily at the recollection. It was of
immense, if unspoken gratification to them both that they had begun to learn to
look upon some of the more painful moments of their past misunderstandings with
humor and something like levity. "Is there nothing you forget, sir?"
"Not as regards my precious wife," he replied
evenly, glad to see her not so very intimidated as she had imagined herself.
"Very pretty, Mr. Darcy."
"Yes, very pretty," replied he as he lifted her
chin and inclined himself toward her pouting lips. He hesitated a moment,
adding, "and this evening more so than ever," before his lips fell
tenderly if briefly upon hers.
"Shall we, Mrs. Darcy?" he inquired. She placed
her hand upon his offered arm and they made to the entrance hall to welcome
their guests.
Not until the fish course was complete and the game course
half consumed did Darcy have another moment for reflection. He was pleased when
the attention of each of his dinner companions' was turned away from him that
he might observe the table in silence. He could not be more satisfied with the
progression of the evening. He was particularly contented with the adroitness
of his wife's seating arrangements. Bingley really was the only person who
could coax words from the diffident Miss Church, and even the cantankerous Mr.
Lydgate could not resist the soothing effects of Jane's sweet countenance,
although she did look at the moment somewhat alarmed by whatever accounting he
was presently giving. Dr. Gibson, fine doctor that he may be, was about as
tolerant of silliness as his singular father-in-law, so to accompany him on
either side with Mrs. Gardiner and Georgiana had been kind. It had been quite
amusing of her to place the impressionable and vain son of Squire Hale, just
one year at university, next to the ever surprising and striking Mrs. Thorney;
the boy would undoubtedly boast to his university mates about the eccentric
beauty he had been called upon to entertain and they would think him a worldly
fellow for such a conquest, for as such he would surely present his innocent
and meaningless dinner conversation. Likewise amusing was her determination to
procure Miss Bingley every opportunity to become Lady Caroline. I feel
obligated!
Elizabeth had playfully asserted to him earlier. After all, I have deprived her
of Pemberley and though Blackfall Manor may be only half its size, the Manor
has the advantage of a title. He has not yet declared himself, I am sure, and
he departs on the morrow, so I must provide her every opportunity to further
her aims. Can you imagine how delightfully conceited she would be? I absolutely
must seat them together. Miss Bingley was in no manner squandering the opportunity her former
rival had provided and was being as solicitous to Sir Patrick as she had ever
been known to be toward Darcy. He trusted Sir Patrick knew what he was about.
Leaving them to their flirtation, his eyes swept the table pleased with the
easy flow of conversation throughout.
The one exception was his aunt, Lady Catherine. That she
had joined the party did not necessarily indicate that she had given any
consideration to his words earlier in the day. Indeed he could not determine
the significance of her uncharacteristic comportment for she sat at his side
stoically mute, never speaking unless spoken too, and with her imposing person
and less than welcoming countenance she gave an air of decided pomposity and
arrogance. He almost laughed at the awareness that he must have appeared just
as disagreeable and surly to Elizabeth in those first days and weeks in Hertfordshire
when his own silent demeanor was certainly no different than his aunt's was at
this moment.
Darcy did not care to contemplate his aunt's intentions,
and let his eyes continue down the table to settle on the very pleasant sight
of his wife as she conversed with Squire Hale. The Squire was a good-natured
man of advanced years who had married late and found himself a widower shortly
thereafter upon the birth of his son, the tragedy of his rapid widowhood having
no discernable impact on his jovial nature. A gentleman strongly inclined
toward the congenial, he had quickly taken a liking to the lively Mrs. Darcy
upon first making her acquaintance during the Christmas season, finding her a
delightful addition to the neighborhood. Across the din and hum of conversations
and silver upon china that ran up and down the course of the well populated
table Darcy could not hear Elizabeth's voice with any clarity, but he could
watch her in all her loveliness. At that moment her countenance was alight with
amusement as she listened attentively to the squire's talk.
Darcy was sure he had never seen Elizabeth so lovely as
this evening, and perhaps he could have credited the becoming golden hued gown,
or the delightful arrangement of her abundant hair softly adorned with a
delicate diamond studded comb, or perhaps her state of expectancy, that gave to
her face a particular quality of serenity and to her complexion an appealing
rosy blush, but he knew it was none of that. There was something distinctly new
in her manner that he could not precisely define and would surely be noticeable
only to one who had observed her as untiringly as had he since very early on in
their acquaintance. It was almost as though she was exhibiting a new dominion
over what she had hitherto considered as only his property; he fancied she felt
herself at last, in every respect, the Mistress of Pemberley. He was overcome
with a sense of glorious pride. This remarkable, matchless woman was his: his
wife, his companion, his lover. Unknowingly he sighed deeply with a feeling of
profound satisfaction.
"She is lovely, Mr. Darcy" came a voice into his
reverie.
Turning to his dinner companion, a genial looking woman of
some fifty years with an air of restrained nobility, he replied quietly.
"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Chesterton?"
"Your wife, she is very lovely."
Realizing he had been so entranced in watching his wife he
had not only quite impolitely ignored his dinner companions, but probably
appeared as much the fool in love as Bingley ever had been wont to do, he
looked down and made as if to wipe his mouth with his napkin to disguise his
embarrassment. "Was I distracted very long?" he asked at last,
sheepishly.
The sight of the perpetually dignified Mr. Darcy blushing
delighted Mrs. Chesterton. She responded in a tone rich with affability.
"Do not be concerned, Mr. Darcy, you were not so very obvious nor so very
long distracted. Just sufficient enough as to be quite charming to someone who
has known you since you were a boy." He inclined his head silently.
"May I be unforgivably impertinent?" she
continued.
"Mrs. Chesterton, you were my mother's friend and as I
recall, particularly kind to her when she was ill. I cannot imagine anything
you could say to me would be unforgivably impertinent."
"Well then, I shall tell you what I have been longing
to say since I first made the acquaintance of your wife."
"Pray, what would that be?"
She spoke in a soft voice that required Darcy to lean
closely toward her. "Lady Anne would have approved. She would have liked
her very much. "
Darcy felt his heart rush with pleasure and gratitude at
the words of his mother's old friend. He lifted his eyes to his wife again. She
was reaching for her glass and caught his eye; she merely raised an eyebrow in
recognition and returned her attention to her companions. "Thank
you," he said. "You are kind to say so."
"It is no kindness, Mr. Darcy. When she was in her
last illness she often spoke of what should become of you and Miss Darcy. I am
sure she would be pleased."
Darcy suddenly felt his sentiments far too exposed and the
conversation taking an awkwardly intimate course. Rather brusquely he changed
the subject to the anticipated return of her son, Lieutenant Chesterton, from his
current naval assignment. "Mrs. Darcy and I should be glad to have you all
to dine at Pemberley when he is settled. I know my wife would find great
pleasure in hearing of his experiences on the peninsula."
"I am sure it should be our honor, sir," she
replied and, much as Darcy had desired, proceeded to speak freely and with
undisguised affection of her preferred child.
He could not have imagined what effect this kindly lady's
inclination toward his wife, coupled with the artlessness and candor of her
character, would have later in the evening when she approached Lady Catherine.
The ladies had all retired to the drawing room and Mrs. Chesterton came to Lady
Catherine's side with a warm and affable smile upon her lips.
"Lady Catherine, I did not have an opportunity to
greet you properly earlier this evening. What a pleasure to see you again. It
has been many years since I have had the honor of being in your company."
"Indeed Mrs. Chesterton, since Lady Anne passed I am
sure. Pray, sit a moment at my side and tell me how you have been. And your
children? There were four if I remember correctly."
They exchanged predictable civilities for a time until,
recalling her old friend with sentimental affection, Mrs. Chesterton spoke to
Lady Catherine with more familiarity than had perhaps been her custom when the
daunting Lady had visited her sister in Derbyshire. "Pemberley has been
very quiet for far too many years. Lady Anne would have been delighted to see
it so full of Derbyshire society again."
"Perhaps," Lady Catherine replied with a hint of
displeasure. She did not like anyone, even an old friend, presuming to speak
for what her sister would or would not have enjoyed. "My sister was of a
very quiet and docile disposition, but she took great pride in opening
Pemberley to the neighborhood."
"I am certain she would have enjoyed this evening very
much. Mrs. Darcy is all that is charming. You must be very pleased with your
nephew's choice of a wife, Lady Catherine," Mrs. Chesterton remarked
guilelessly.
Displaying more restraint than she was known for, she
replied flatly: "And why should I be very pleased?"
Lady Catherine was, in point of fact, particularly
interested in hearing Mrs. Chesterton's opinion on her nephew's wife. The Chesterton
family was as old as the Darcy family and as well established in Derbyshire;
although not nearly as wealthy or as influential, they were highly regarded and
their good opinion was amongst the most valued in the neighborhood. For her
part, Mrs. Chesterton was a bit surprised by the question. The old friendship
had in fact not been one of equally shared confidences, and she had never been
privy to any knowledge of the great alliance purportedly planned between the
sisters. Furthermore, she kept very much to her own circle of Derbyshire
intimates and so was not aware of the whispered knowledge about London that
Darcy and his aunt were at odds due to his marriage.
"She is such a delightful and intelligent young woman,
Lady Catherine. Very much her own person, to be sure, but charming and warm.
The neighborhood has an entirely new level of regard for Pemberley thanks to
her."
"I cannot possibly imagine your meaning! Neither
Pemberley nor the Darcy family could ever be found wanting in that regard, Mrs.
Chesterton. Respect could not be more fully given than has long been given to
Pemberley and its masters," Lady Catherine replied indignantly.
"Certainly you misapprehend me, madam. I do not wish
to imply that Pemberley was lacking in any respect from the neighborhood. The
entire county owes so much of its prosperity to Pemberley that it could not be
otherwise. And of course Mr. Darcy is a good and generous gentleman of
outstanding character. But I will not scruple to maintain that Mrs. Darcy has
inspired a kind of warm personal regard that has not been seen since the days
of Lady Anne. Why, I believe half the county is mad in love with Mrs.
Darcy."
Lady Catherine sighed with annoyance, inquiring
sarcastically, "Only half the county?"
Mrs. Chesterton laughed pleasantly. "Well, there are
some mothers and single young ladies who have still not resigned themselves to
the disappointment that Mr. Darcy has wed. He was after all so very sought
after, regardless of the complete absence of interest he showed in any of the
local girls. Which is why I am certain that some resentment would exist
regardless of his bride. But those who had no such ambitions could not be
happier. After all, an estate as large as Pemberley has such an impact on so
many people's lives that something as personal as who Mr. Darcy married of
course seemed as though it could have an impact on many. In truth, many feared
he would marry a woman of fashion who cared nothing for the well-being of the
neighborhood and would want to be always in Town. Mrs. Darcy has not closeted
herself away here at Pemberley, madam, but has taken the time to be among her
neighbors; you need only attend a Sunday service to see how she is regarded. To
find Mrs. Darcy not only so witty and lively, but also so genuinely respectful
and caring of all the people in the neighborhood, well it was very pleasing and
only served to increase the admiration for Mr. Darcy himself, that he would
take as a wife such a fine, unassuming young lady."
An inelegant Humph was Lady Catherine's only response.
Mrs. Chesterton, for her part, had the good sense to
understand Lady Catherine was not entirely pleased with the conversation and
wished it over. Suspecting she had breached the Lady's understanding of decorum
and that she had been too familiar with her old friend's sister, she excused
herself and joined a conversation a few local ladies were conducting regarding
the new, unmarried clergyman who would soon arrive at Lambton Parsonage.
Mrs. Chesterton's words surprised Lady Catherine, indeed
distressed her deeply. This was a woman who had been on comparatively friendly
terms with her sister, a lady from an old and respected Derbyshire family. What
could she mean by such praise? What had her nephew said to her earlier in the
day in that strange almost plaintive plea: If you will but allow yourself,
you shall see that my wife does honor to the Darcy name. Moved anew by the remembrance of
the unusual tenderness with which he had spoken to her, Lady Catherine turned
to Mrs. Darcy and observed her nephew's wife for the first time with something
like objectivity.
Mrs. Darcy did move through the room with ease and grace,
attending her many guests with warm, gracious smiles, and delicate
gestures. She was attentive to
all, without being overly solicitous to any. She had a perpetual air of
independence about her--had possessed it even back in Kent--which lent her a
certain dignity. And yet her very unaffectedness wrangled Lady Catherine
thoroughly--for it seemed only to confirm that the entire situation agitated
her not in the slightest; the girl clearly had no diffidence, no sense of her
inferiority. Lady Catherine thought her insufficiently impressed with the life
she had obtained by snatching Darcy from her own daughter's grasp.
At the thought of Anne, she turned her observation on her
and as her eyes set upon the figure sitting almost alone in a corner--if not
for the compassionate attentions from, of all people, Mrs. Gardiner--Lady
Catherine's mother's heart, her Fitzwilliam and de Bourgh superciliousness,
suffered the keen sting of disappointment. How could she credit that the pale,
insipid little creature that was her daughter, barely able to maintain a civil
conversation as she was, could have ever provided Darcy and Pemberley with what
was required? Lady Catherine felt the bitterness of truth roil in her stomach
as she acknowledged that her own daughter would have never been capable of
presiding over this large and motley party with the artless poise Mrs. Darcy
had projected from the first guest's arrival. Indeed had she not imagined that
she herself would have served as Darcy's hostess, not her daughter? For the
first time, Lady Catherine wondered if her sickly daughter could have even
produced an heir; while this fresh country upstart would likely provide him a
menagerie of children as healthy and vigorous as she. A slow consciousness
began to overtake her that perhaps her nephew had been right to reject Anne as
mistress of Pemberley, and in that consciousness was awakened a new admiration
toward her nephew--a pride that he was man enough to put his own interests
above his aunt's womanly fancy--and an intense, tender pity toward her
daughter. He had said it plainly: Anne would have never been his wife. Surely,
Anne would never marry at all--and Lady Catherine began to see perhaps it was
all for the better--for when she passed from this world Anne would be under
Darcy's supervision. He had explicitly offered Anne his protection and this
gave Lady Catherine at last a kind of peace and satisfaction.
She turned her attention back to Mrs. Darcy. At that moment she was sweetly
cosseting an elderly gentlewoman that Lady Catherine vaguely recalled from when
her sister still lived--from a respectable but modest family, she thought. She
was a thin and frail looking creature, but she was looking upon Mrs. Darcy with
bright eyes and an expression of such frank approbation that Lady Catherine
could only conclude that Mrs. Chesterton had not been exaggerating the girl's
success after all.
But no, it would not do! She could not be reconciled! For
all Mrs. Darcy's charms of person she was still nothing, nobody, a girl of no
consequence at all. Who was her mother; her aunts and uncles? Niece to a
tradesman and that very tradesman sharing tonight's feast as though he were on
equal footing with all present, including herself. Darcy, having not taken Anne
for his wife, should have taken a girl of fortune, of connections and title to
raise still further the prestige of the Darcy name. Lady Catherine had long
looked upon her nephew as a sort of paradigm of all a gentleman ought to be:
wealthy, connected, honorable, dutiful, handsome, and distinguished. He could
have had even a Duke's daughter and this nothing bewitched him into a fool's
union of which Lady Catherine would have never thought him capable. She could
not reconcile herself to this marriage: she would resent this headstrong, insolent
girl; she would
despise her. Vigorous and charming
and lovely as she evidently could be, she was still of no family and no import
in the world. She had brought nothing to the marriage; she offered her nephew
no discernable advantages. To Lady Catherine she would ever be nothing, nothing
but her nephew's one momentous failure. She could not but despise the girl for
bringing him so low.
And yet, had she brought him low? For shortly thereafter,
as she watched Darcy enter the room with all the gentlemen in tow her heart
verily swelled with pride to see him so much the better of his neighbors: tall,
elegant, refined, imposing, they all looked common in his wake. In truth, she
had wanted him for a son for her own self as much as she had wanted him for a
husband to Anne; she could not lose him as a nephew too. This quarrel had
indeed been painful to the lady and Easter without his presence at Rosings had
been bitter. She had missed him and knew the feeling had not been reciprocal.
In his blind infatuation with the girl's rosy cheeks and impertinent
expressions, all else withered in consequence. What had the girl said to her
that very morning in her confident, defiant tones: I know not what you think
you can accomplish with your continued acrimony excepting your nephew's
ceaseless disapprobationÉYou have nothing to gain and everything to lose.
Darcy crossed the room to his wife and kissed her hand
gallantly, a look of warmth and contentment suffusing his mien. As quickly as
he had kissed her hand he had released it and each had turned their attentions
upon one of their guests. Lady Catherine was struck by that simple,
unremarkable gesture, the forthright and graceful manner in which it was
offered and received amidst a room full of guests--a gesture neither concealed
from observation nor performed for effect. Something about its unadorned
honesty clarified her prejudices and Lady Catherine at last understood this was
no mere infatuation that would run its course and leave Darcy regretful of his
actions. He loved the girl, and perhaps, just perhaps, she loved him as well.
It was as simple and as dreadful as that.
She felt defeated and wished for nothing but to leave the
room and retire to her solitude, but she could not. To discomfit Mrs. Darcy
with a curt removal from the room as she had the other evening in front of a
few London friends was one thing, but to do the same to her own nephew in front
of all Derbyshire's finest families was unthinkable. The choice, he had said,
was hers. There could be no half measures as she had so foolishly imagined when
she had first arrived at Pemberley. She comprehended fully now what the choice
entailed: respect their union or be lost to her nephew forever.
In that instant she made her choice. She chose affection
for him--fallen idol that he would forever be now--over her abhorrence of her,
over her fixed disapprobation of their marriage.
A decision once made, Lady Catherine was not one to foster
delay. If the unpleasant business must be done, let it be done with. She
cleared her throat, raised herself to her full stature and walked to where Mrs.
Darcy and Georgiana were pouring the tea and coffee. Her stateliness and
imposing carriage--so much like her nephew's as it was--ensured her actions did
not go unnoticed. Her hands folded in front of her, she began to speak without
preamble in her customarily authoritative and overbearing manner: "Mrs.
Darcy, what a lovely evening we have had thus far. Not since Lady Anne lived
has Pemberley seen such elegance and graciousness of entertainment. I hope my
niece will find enough courage to perform for us this evening. You have certainly
never lacked for courage, perhaps in that she might take a lesson from you. I
recall you performed quite charmingly when you were last dining at Rosings,
Mrs. Darcy."
Darcy and Elizabeth were fixed in astonishment at her
unexpected soliloquy. Her tone had been supercilious, even cold, but her
intention was unmistakable. Whatever her private sentiments remained, she had
acquiesced and they would no longer suffer her insult.
Elizabeth reacted first, and responded to Lady Catherine in
her warmest tones. She was not ignorant of the great forfeiture of pride Lady
Catherine had made in order to make even such a coldly civil remark. However
duplicitous was the ostensible compliment to her courage, she would be
gracious, for her husband's sake. "I am pleased you are enjoying yourself,
Lady Catherine. I shall always be grateful for your approbation."
As Lady Catherine took the cup of tea Elizabeth handed her,
she could not determine if the girl had spoken with humility or mockery. She
possessed such a peculiar combination of archness and sweetness in her
expression as to quite belie understanding. Lady Catherine was momentarily
diverted by one thought: she had been correct that morning when she had
proclaimed to her nephew that the girl was not to be underestimated.
Lady Catherine returned to her seat and as she lifted her
teacup looked to her nephew. Darcy merely bowed his head slightly toward his
aunt in acknowledgment of her resolution, a gesture she returned. After all the
heated words that had been exchanged between them, after so much acrimony, it
was all that was required, and both were satisfied. The subject of his marriage
was closed.
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