Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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Wagers and
challenges
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Elizabeth walked into her husband's dressing room and saw
him standing completely still and silent, hands at his side and chin lifted
ever so slightly as his valet carefully executed the delicate business of
knotting a cravat. Upon seeing Mrs. Darcy enter Thompson turned, bowed
elegantly and deeply, stated a sound 'madam!' in his deep baritone voice and
turned back to the sartorial task at hand. Like Elizabeth's maid, Molly,
Thompson had grown accustomed to such mutual intrusions of husband and wife into
each other's territory, although to his more mature experience the habit was
not as endearing as to young, romantic Molly. He would not judge, however; it
was not his position to do so, even if he did find it less than customary for a
lady--even if she be a wife--to enter the dressing room of a gentleman, much
less at such critical moments of dress. And it was certainly not due to his indiscretion that the entire
upstairs staff and a goodly portion of the downstairs staff were aware that
only one bed was made per morning in the master chambers--although both were
drawn down nightly. To his utter dismay there was, in defiance of all that is
proper in a household staff of such a notable estate, even a wager as to how
long that state of affairs would persist. Thompson, much to his vexation, had
never been able to establish which of the chambermaids had spoken with so
little discretion, or he surely should have informed Mrs. Reynolds to ensure
dismissal of the loose-tongued servant.
"Satisfactory, sir?" Thompson inquired as he
patted down his handiwork.
Darcy grimaced with dissatisfaction as he looked at his
reflection in the glass. "A bit too spectacular, Thompson. We are not
attending the opera, after all."
As Thompson made to undue his work, both men were surprised
by a quiet, but emphatic: "Oh, preposterous!" as Elizabeth turned and
left the room without another word.
Not one to make a scene in front of his servants, Darcy
waited patiently as Thompson made a more suitable knot and helped his master
into the golden silk waistcoat just up from London and finally his black frock
coat. As Thompson handed Darcy his fob, he was quietly if a little preemptively
dismissed. Darcy turned and entered the master bedchamber where Elizabeth sat
on a settee in front of the fireplace, impatiently tapping her fingers over her
knee. He could not prevent an amused smile from forming upon his lips, for
while she looked exceptionally well--her maid had become quite adept at setting
her hair in just such a manner as to make her appear at her most beguiling--she
looked also like what could only be described as a sulky child. Darcy found the
contrast quite amusing.
"Pray," Elizabeth cried. "Are you quite dressed?" Darcy merely opened
his arms and looked down at his attire as though offering himself to her
judgment. "Well!" She replied mockingly, "I never dreamt a
gentleman could take longer to dress than a lady."
Darcy continued to smile and stated calmly: "And I
never imagined a lady could dress so quickly and yet so successfully. For, your
pouting impertinence notwithstanding, you do look extraordinarily lovely this
evening, my dear."
As Elizabeth looked upon her husband, handsome and
composed, she was overcome with a sense of personal disapproval. How could it be,
she wondered, that she, who possessed such equanimity heretofore regarding Lady
Catherine's arrival and he who had been so very disturbed, should have suddenly
changed roles upon the eminent lady's actual arrival? In defiance of her own
uneasiness, she replied sharply: "It shall have to do!"
"Do? For what?" responded he, more alarmed by her
tone than her words.
"Not for what, for whom. For Lady Catherine of course.
Can we not make our way to the parlor now? We are quite tardy."
Most surprisingly for Elizabeth, Darcy chuckled at her
explanation. For in truth, after the initial arrival and greeting of his aunt
had been dispensed with Darcy had found himself in surprisingly good spirits.
Perhaps it had been something about the peculiar sight of his lively wife--so
filled as was her every gesture with health and vigor-- escorting his pale and
sickly cousin which had inspired in himself a sort of sublime relief that he
had been bold enough to follow his heart and to have never succumbed to the
duty-draped wishes of his aunt. Or perhaps after months of marriage to
Elizabeth he had truly begun to measure people differently--for his aunt had
never appeared to him so extravagantly supercilious in manner and dress as when
she stepped from her carriage earlier in the day and marched into Pemberley
House with all the solemnity of a queen. Whatever it had been, to his very
great surprise, he felt invigorated and cheerful, so that he replied now to his
agitated wife with something betwixt dispassion and amusement.
"Is that why you are so impatient and anxious? For
Lady Catherine's approval?"
Indignant at such a thought, Elizabeth rose from the settee
and walked toward the mantel, at which point she turned round to face her
husband and coldly replied: "Not at all! I certainly do not require Lady
Catherine's approval!"
As Darcy watched and listened he did not know which to
indulge first: his admiration for her appearance, for she did indeed look
exceedingly lovely in a finely, daringly cut lilac gown that enhanced her
natural glow and set off to perfection her figure--just beginning to show signs
of her state of expectancy as it was; or whether perhaps he should indulge his
amusement at her adorable and all together exceptional irritation. Yet as he
approached her he recalled Jane's expressions of concern from earlier in the
day and understood he must not take lightly her now ill-disguised anxiety.
Taking her hands into his own he raised one hand at a time to his lips.
"Indeed you do not require the approval of Lady Catherine, or, for that
matter, any other person."
As he spoke Elizabeth allowed herself to examine his
beloved features: the open, broad forehead that bespoke of his honesty and
integrity; the expressive eyes that revealed what his reserved manner would
guard, the finely drawn lips that when arched into a timid smile would fill her
heart with adoration. As he raised an eyebrow in anticipation of her response
Elizabeth understood that for her own self she cared as little for Lady
Catherine's approbation as she had when she had been a reluctant guest at
Rosings Park; she did, however, now desire if not her approbation, her
acquiescence, for his benefit. For Darcy was as loyal and devoted to his
familyÑflawed as they wereÑas she herself was to her own equally imperfect
family. Though she comprehended that Darcy would never repine breaking off all
contact with his aunt after her infamous letter, Elizabeth also comprehended
that the rupture of relations between himself and his mother's only sister, was
privately painful. It was only to spare her own feelings that he never spoke of
it.
She sighed, for truly, she did not know how to begin anew
with Lady Catherine. Removing one of her hands from his, Elizabeth leaned over
to the table and picked up an item that lay upon it. "And what shall I do
about this?"
"What is this?" he inquired, distracted as she
bent to retrieve the item by the manner in which her gown accentuated her bosom
and wondered for a moment whether London's latest fashion was really all
that as they were
like to say in the ton.
"This!" she cried, lifting a lace item to his eye
level. "This cap! You are aware she shall think me a hoyden for refusing
to wear a cap as all proper married ladies do."
"I believe I must write to your father," Darcy
replied, repressing a smile. But Elizabeth's expression of perplexity at what
sounded to her a confused tangent merely served to elicit an open and joyful
laugh from her husband. Lifting the lace item from her hand he threw it on the
settee and gently pulled her into his arms. "Yes," he continued,
"I must write to your father and inform him he has badly misled me. For he
affirmed he was father to three of the silliest girls in England and I am quite
certain he proclaimed that you were not among them."
"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth replied in annoyance.
"Mrs. Darcy!" he answered teasingly. "As I
said before, this is your home," he continued as he tapped the tip of her
nose. "If you choose to dispense with such a godforsaken garment, far be
it from Lady Catherine or any one else to question your discretion. Moreover,
you may always blame me. After all, I believe I was the one who insisted you
never wear such a terrible accoutrement. You looked positively matronly when
you first donned one."
"I believe, my dear sir, that is entirely the intended
effect."
"That may well be, however, I have recently been
enlightened regarding the very positive advantages to be had when breaking with
some of society's more foolish dictums. I see no point in unlearning that
lesson over such a matter as this, my love. I married a young lady of spirit
and vivacity--I shall not have her hiding under a silly bit of lace."
"So I shall simply inform Lady Catherine I am an
obedient wife," she replied with an ironic smile.
"So be it, but I hardly think she will notice at
all."
It was now Elizabeth's turn to laugh. "Do you not know
your aunt at all, my dearest sir? I shall wager she has already observed my
abandonment of an adornment generally considered requisite. Further I suspect
she is only awaiting the most embarrassing of moments to call me to
account."
"What shall we wager then?"
He looked so blissfully amused as he spoke, so positively
unperturbed that Elizabeth felt her own unease dissipate. There really was, after
all, nothing Lady Catherine could do to harm them; she could only make for some
unpleasantness. She therefore determined Lady Catherine would not intimidate
her in her own home. Feeling her courage rise, she felt consequently her
playfulness return. "What shall I demand from you?" She remarked at
last. "For victory is assured in such a wager as this."
"Then pray, make my defeat as sweet as your
victory," he replied enticingly. "One we shall never forget."
Elizabeth smiled broadly, blushed prettily and drew his
head down. As she whispered in his ear, he drew her closer to him. "My
little minx," he returned, his voice suddenly hoarse and charged.
"You have put me in the unhappy situation of finding I am required to
initiate some stratagem or other, for I surely must now do all that is in my
power to encourage Lady Catherine's insolence on this matter."
His wife simply arched her brow in response. "Come my
dear, we are surely wanted in the parlor."
With her spirit thus lightened, the handsome couple made
their way to the parlor, where they found Mrs. Gardiner alone and quietly
perusing a book of poetry that lay on a table. As they entered she rose and
went to their side, a wide smile on her pleasing and warm countenance.
"My dear Lizzy, I am sure of it! Now we are just we
three I insist you set me right. You have an unmistakable healthy glow about
you. I do believe that you and your Mr. Darcy are keeping a small secret."
The smile Elizabeth and Darcy shared was all the answer
Mrs. Gardiner required. "My Mr. Darcy has always said you are the most
perceptive of women, Aunt. But you must keep it to yourself for we have not yet
shared the news."
They embraced silently, but the room was now becoming
filled with the other household guests and so they said no more on the happy
topic. Before Darcy could attend to his duties, however, Mrs. Gardiner quietly
whispered an aside.
"Mr. Darcy you have used your considerable skill of
persuasion to bring my husband and I to Pemberley to partake of your sentimental
surprise. When shall it be revealed?"
"Patience, my dear Mrs. Gardiner. All in good
time." He smiled mischievously before turning away and Mrs. Gardiner was
recalled to her presumptuous insinuation to Lizzy that Darcy only need marry
well to acquire that touch of liveliness he lacked. She was pleased at her
discernment.
As Pemberley's guests gathered for another evening of fine
dining and agreeable company, Lady Catherine dallied in her room, quite
determined to be the last guest to arrive in the parlor for dinner. She would
in no way be obvious in her challenge to Mrs. Darcy, but she would challenge her competence. The
easiest way, she was sure, was simply to disturb her plans through
tardiness-would the dinner still be served warm? Would the tea go cold? She
would embarrass her without ever giving her nephew just cause for reprimanding
her own behavior. She would exhibit no outward disrespect, but she would make
Mrs. Darcy's task as hostess difficult as was within her power--she would crack
that facade of confidence that had so angered her that infamous and ill-fated
afternoon in the garden of Longbourn.
Intent on her mission and well past the polite hour, Lady
Catherine gathered her fan, squared her shoulders and made for her private
battle. Making her way down to the parlor she confirmed her earliest
observation--that Mrs. Darcy had made little substantial change to Pemberley.
That, at least, was a small consolation, for she had suffered visions of a
gaudy disturbance of the stateliness for which she took such pride. For had she
not so generously advised her nephew when he had made modifications to the
music room and the principal public rooms? Although she had been disappointed
that he had not selected the gold-fringed draperies she had so preferred for
the salon, nor the royal blue wallpapering she had selected for the music room,
she took personal satisfaction in Darcy's universal reputation as a man of
excellent taste and refinement.
With these thoughts entertaining her passage, she arrived at
the principal salon, the last guest and a full half hour after the proper time.
She entered with authority, a feathered creation upon her handsome head, and
draped in enough silk and jewels to impress the wealthiest of sultans.
Elizabeth immediately went to her side. The contrast between the two ladies as
they made polite greeting at the room's entrance was stark and not at all to
Elizabeth's disadvantage. From the simplicity and quality of her gown one could
see that Elizabeth was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine; with less of splendour
than Lady Catherine, and more real elegance.
"Lady Catherine," said Elizabeth as she curtsied
with simple elegance. "I hope you are well rested from your travels."
"Yes, yes." Lady Catherine replied, annoyed at
Elizabeth's evident indifference to her guest's tardiness. "Nephew,"
Lady Catherine continued. "Your arm."
As Darcy took her arm and led her to a seat, Lady Catherine
surveyed the assembled party and with her customary confidence, defined and
relegated each person to their proper place. "It seems a respectable
enough lot, Darcy." She intoned as she mentally observed that the
gentlemen were clearly all that they ought to be, well groomed and not a fop
among them. The ladies offered more variety for her scrutiny. Georgiana she
found as infuriatingly meek as always--she really could not tolerate how she
would hold her head down when engaged in conversation. She was momentarily
surprised to see her own daughter talking to a lady of some elegance and
fashion; she immediately dismissed Miss Bingley as the common London fashion
girl, found Mrs. Thorney far too good looking to do anyone any good, and Mrs.
Ashton unassuming and genteel. Lady Catherine's attention was at last caught by
the pretty, pale, delicate face under a fine, laced cap.
"Pray, nephew, who is this uncommonly lovely
lady?" She inquired, stopping immediately in front of Jane and examining
her with the same unrestrained inspection of a man buying a horse. "Such a
pretty, serene countenance she has."
"This uncommonly lovely lady," Darcy responded as
Jane blushed, "is Mrs. Darcy's elder sister, Mrs. Jane Bingley."
Lady Catherine, evidently surprised at the connection and
displeased to have so singled out a relation of Mrs. Darcy, said very little
more until they were called into dinner, but at just such a moment she could
not but return to her commanding self.
"You must take Anne into dinner, Darcy. She is so
fatigued from the travel."
Darcy simply stared at her in silence, a look of antipathy
spreading across his mien, as he had been wont to do in Hertfordshire. How
preposterous, he
mused silently. Did Lady Catherine truly suppose she could usurp his wife's
position as hostess and that she could freely manage and order people about as
she did at Rosings?
He was on the point of declining to oblige in some curt and uncivil fashion
when he felt Elizabeth touch his arm as she spoke lightly, seemingly
indifferent to the presumption of her guest.
"Yes do, my love," Elizabeth replied with sweet
defiance. "I would not wish cousin Anne tired unduly."
Darcy, annoyed, knew as he spoke that he was reducing
himself to his aunt's silly stratagems--something he abhorred--as well as
drawing upon all the ill-conceived conceits that had once brought him such
unhappiness. Yet he could not contain himself: His anger had suddenly returned,
like an unwelcome changing wind on the high seas. Lady Catherine sought to
assert herself above his wife and he sought, in a manner most sure to irritate
her, to put her in her place. That he must use a man he admired and esteemed to
accomplish this small, petty victory he regarded as unpleasantly necessary, and
hopefully not at all obvious. In a clear voice that all might hear, he
responded, "It must be as you wish, Mrs. Darcy. Then pray, Sir Patrick,
will you not accompany my wife to dinner, and Mr. Gardiner, will you not do the
same for Lady Catherine?"
Sir Patrick bowed in accordance but was momentarily delayed
by his companion, Miss Bingley. "As we have been so bold with one another
to date, may I not observe, Sir Patrick, that Pemberley has suddenly become a
very interesting place?"
Sir Patrick merely smiled a half smile without further
remark, but as he bowed to Miss Bingley and made his way to Mrs. Darcy's side he
found himself attracted to her pleasure in observing the power play. Yet, for
all her handsome face and figure, her ambition and her fortune, he could not
bring himself to a decision. Vacillation was not in his character, but each
time she seemed a fine candidate for a wife, he recalled the words he had
demanded from Darcy when he had first arrived at Pemberley more than a
fortnight ago: Her character is ambiguous. I do not mean to imply that she
is willfully duplicitous or ill-intentioned, but that, beyond her ambitions, I
am not certain of her intentions, of the quality of her temperament or the
depth of her mind.
He need make no decision now--here he had no rivals for her attention, after
all, and concluded he ought best to defer his decision until they had all returned
to London after the summer.
As Sir Patrick made his way to Elizabeth's side, Mr.
Gardiner was bowing elegantly to Lady Catherine and offering his arm. The Lady,
for her part, merely looked him up and down and inquired, "And how are you
acquainted with my nephew?"
"I am Mrs. Darcy's uncle."
"You are Mrs. Darcy's uncle?"
"Indeed I am, Lady Catherine. At your service,"
he answered with an elegant inclination of his head.
"And you reside where?"
"In town, madam."
"In which part of town?"
"Gracechurch Street."
An inelegant "Humph!" was all the reply she made,
to Mr. Gardiner's amusement--for he was a man difficult to offend. Lady
Catherine endured the realization that he was the infamous uncle in trade well
enough as she watched Anne lead the party into the dinning room upon Darcy's
arm: As it ought to have been, she mused. She even condescended to accept Mr. Gardiner's
offered arm, feeling, as she was, momentarily triumphant, she could also be
generously condescending.
Her satisfaction would perhaps have been short lived had
she known the silent observations of more than one of the party. Her intentions
for Darcy had not been London's most guarded secret and more than one within
the party could see that--fortunes and connections aside--Darcy had made the
superior choice. Even the still mildly displeased Miss Bingley could see that
from a purely sentimental perspective, the choice between the sickly cousin and
the confident, lively country girl was obvious; for while Miss Bingley's latent
envy made her quite unable to openly admire Mrs. Darcy, she had in these days
at Pemberley begun to perceive why Mr. Darcy might.
During the meal Lady Catherine quickly observed that the
former Miss Bennet had lost none of her decidedness when it came time to voice
her opinions, indeed she seemed to have acquired still greater confidence. To
her displeasure she saw that her nephew was, if not mawkishly demonstrative
toward his wife, certainly unapologetically besotted. Further, the party as a
whole seemed to find her commentary charmingly witty.
"Youth!" Lady Catherine muttered under her
breath, at one particularly frank exchange between Elizabeth and Sir Patrick
regarding the capriciousness of society's dictates.
"Yes, youth," Mr. Gardiner responded mischievously.
"So reprehensibly broadminded!"
Lady Catherine was unmistakably displeased by Mr.
Gardiner's irony, so clearly expressed at her own expense as it was. Clearly,
she concluded, it is from this upstart tradesman that she learned her ways.
Before making a reply she observed the assemblage with
something like objectivity. She would not credit Mrs. Darcy for the excellence
of the tableÑPemberley's staff and her own nephew's fastidiousness ensured its
continuance. The disposition of the party, however, the collective character of
the intercourse, was more clearly her doing. While she could not fault Mrs.
Darcy on civilities, the air of ease and liveliness that suffused the company
was not at all what she was accustomed to finding at Pemberley, and she was
uncertain as to its being sufficiently dignified for such a fine estate. That
Mrs. Darcy had imposed her personality upon the house and company--without even
altering much more than a single settee--left Lady Catherine no alternative but
to conclude that the young woman's confidence was not to be so easily shaken as
she had supposed--truly she should have expected as much after her audacious
display of will at Longbourn. Moreover, whatever her own feelings about the
exuberance of the party and the discourse throughout the meal, she was honest
enough to recognize in her nephew an air of satisfaction and contentment she
had grown quite unaccustomed to seeing. Nevertheless, for all her sincere
affection, she could not share in what she considered his misbegotten pleasure.
She could not but deduce that she had misunderstood the intent of Darcy's
letters and invitation all together. His effort of reconciliation came not from
remorse or regret as she had supposed, but from surety. Evidently, leading Darcy
to comprehend his grievous error--as she still desired-- would be a bit more
complicated than she had anticipated.
She motioned for the servant to fill her glass with wine
and drank it to the full rather inelegantly.
"Broadminded?" she finally responded to Mr.
Gardiner. "Perhaps. But not as indomitable as they believe."
Mr. Gardiner looked her intently in the face and wondered
if perhaps he might need to warn his niece to some unclear challenge. He would
consult his wife to be sure.
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