MRS. PEARCE, DARCY’S HOUSEKEEPER FROM London, had arrived at Netherfield quite unexpectedly to everyone except for the professor himself. He had seen no reason to inform his host, for to his mind, her presence was of no matter to anyone but him and Eliza.
He was, therefore, rather surprised when Bingley seemed somewhat put out by the lady’s arrival. The three men were taking their early coffee and toast when a footman with an alarmed face scuttled into the breakfast room and handed his master a note. Bingley glanced at it, then read it more carefully, and finally turned a rather unattractive shade of red as he turned on his friend.
“Darcy, what on earth have you done?”
Darcy paused, his coffee cup halfway between its saucer and his lips. “Done?” His voice was uncharacteristically mild, and he resumed his task of taking his coffee.
“Done.” Bingley’s voice was not mild. “A carriage has only now arrived from London, a carriage bearing your crest and carrying your housekeeper!”
Darcy returned the cup to the table and dabbed carefully at the corner of his mouth with a linen napkin. “Oh yes, Mrs. Pearce. I sent her a message to come at once.” He peered at the sideboard. “Are there any eggs this morning?”
“You asked her to come? Without consulting with me? Darcy, do you know what this means?”
“Why yes, it means that we might take Miss Bennet’s measurements so the seamstress in London can begin making her wardrobe. Pearce will only be here for a day or two. She does not eat excessively; she shan’t be much bother.” He turned to confront his cousin. “Richard, what on earth was that noise? Are you laughing or choking on your tea?”
Bingley, by now, had called over the terrified footman and demanded that he find Bingley’s own housekeeper at once. “This is a disaster, Darcy. Caroline will have my head over this. Oh, the trouble this shall give! I must be sure to find Mrs. Pearce suitable accommodations—not so fine as a guest suite; neither so low as the servants’ rooms. Oh, and I must reassure my own staff that she is here merely as your housekeeper and as not a threat to anybody’s position. They must be told that she holds authority over no one at Netherfield, but that she should be treated with due deference, all the while not being a guest per se . Oh, bother Caroline, with her late morning habits. She ought to be dealing with this, not sleeping!
“Tell me, what am I to do with Mrs. Pearce, Darcy? Is she a servant or a guest? How do I treat her? What is her status in the house? We must find her a suitable room!” He repeated these words again and again, waving his arms wildly as he raved, running them through his hair until it fairly stood on end. He was still expositing thus when his own housekeeper entered the breakfast room and quickly took stock of the situation.
“Never you worry yourself, sir,” she assured her young employer. “I shall take more than adequate care of our newcomer, never you mind! She may take the room across from my own, for it is quite fine. I have wished to meet her for a long time. She is very highly regarded by those I know. Shall I wake the mistress? No? Leave it all to me!”
Darcy was completely unperturbed by the situation and continued sipping his coffee with equanimity. “Good, you have everything in hand, Bingley,” he stood and brushed an errant bread crumb from his coat. “It is time for my lessons to begin. Send Pearce in once she is settled, there’s a good man. Come along, Richard. And do stop laughing.”
Darcy strode through the hallways with long steps, oblivious to the chaos breaking out around him, and was gratified to find Eliza waiting for him once more. He glanced at his watch; it was only two minutes after ten. He did not consider himself, therefore, late by any real definition of the word, and had no cause to apologise to his student. He did, however, remember to ask her politely after her morning and the health of her family. These meaningless social niceties were becoming something of a habit now, and he seldom required Eliza’s pointed looks and promptings, although he also found that he missed her arch comments and the few moments of verbal sparring that inevitably ensued. Never before had he had a student who would dare speak back to him, and he had learned that he rather liked it. Her strength and wit challenged him and sparked something inside him.
Eliza had answered his meaningless questions as these musings flitted through his mind, and he had some notion of responding to her before Richard made his own inquiries. He settled himself in his chair and was leafing through his papers when the door opened and Mrs. Pearce was ushered into the study.
“Professor Darcy,” she bobbed her head in a terse curtsey. “You requested my presence.”
Richard had leapt to his feet to greet the housekeeper and Eliza, too, had risen from her chair. Darcy remained seated.
In a few words, he introduced his protégée and explained the situation to his housekeeper. “Eliza will be spending much time at Darcy House in the coming months, Mrs. Pearce,” he explained, “as both a pupil and as the woman I will announce as my betrothed. Now, do not get yourself excited, for the engagement is a facade to rid myself of unwanted society in Town, but it is a facade the entire household must uphold, and you shall be the only one to know the truth of it.”
Darcy watched his cousin guide the older woman to a seat, bemused as always by how the colonel managed to smooth ruffled feathers before they even become ruffled. “We trust your discretion, Mrs. Pearce,” Richard bowed his head towards her. “We would not be confiding in you were we not to do so. And of course, I’m certain we do not have to ask for your assistance in preserving Miss Bennet’s reputation, for this ruse is temporary and the lady’s name must be unblemished.”
At Mrs. Pearce’s request, Darcy quickly explained the purpose of the ruse, watching as she tutted and shook her head, or sighed in exasperation. “You cannot do this to the girl, Professor,” she announced at last. “I cannot be a party to it.”
“Oh, it is already done, Mrs. Pearce. I merely need you to ensure that as little damage as possible results.” He leaned back in his chair and looked down his nose at the small gathering. “She quite relies on you,” he added, nodding his emphasis.
The colonel now took over the attempt to convince the housekeeper. “If Miss Bennet is to reap the benefit of this engagement, she must, of course, emerge with her character completely flawless.” He gave the housekeeper a conspiratorial grin. “Under any other circumstances, it would be almost impossible, but we have stronger resources: we have you! In this matter we were certain we could rely upon you.” His smile broadened.
The older lady grinned back at the colonel. She was, perhaps fifteen years older than him, but Darcy knew she had never been immune to his convivial charm. In true form, Richard reinforced her good opinion of him at that moment by suggesting he call in for some tea. Unused to being served, rather than serving, Mrs. Pearce put up some more token resistance, but eventually agreed to help the gentlemen with their plan. The matter was settled, and the lady now had only to carry out the details.
The main matter for the summons to Meryton, it transpired, was to begin outfitting Eliza with some suitable clothing for London, which task commenced once tea had been served and consumed.
“But I am to stay with my aunt and uncle!” Lizzy furrowed her brow and sat up straight with pride. “My current wardrobe is certainly adequate for that! They are fine people, with whom you would not be ashamed to associate, but they are not so fashionable as to require the latest styles!”
“That may be so, Eliza, but you shall be seen with me, and I require the finest in all I do. Therefore, if we are to be seen out together, at the theatre or taking a ride through the parks, you must look the sort of lady who would catch my eye. You would never do in your current ensembles.” Lizzy’s mouth gaped open at these cruel words, and Darcy could see that he had offended her. Quickly he added, “Do not be vexed, Eliza. Your general appearance is pleasing enough that one might be quick to forgive any sartorial lapses.”
“That is faint praise, Professor Darcy, but praise from you of any sort is meanly given, and I shall accept all scraps.” She gazed at him coolly from beneath her thick lashes, and he felt that strange tugging once more. She was a rather pretty thing, and he was beginning to delight in her wit.
Eliza had yet more to say. “All this aside, sir, are we not being presumptuous in providing for a wardrobe for Town? I am hardly ready to be presented in public with you. Whilst we have done much work, I am fully aware that my speech and manners still cry of the country.”
“Oh, that is true,” the professor ran a hand through his hair to tame an errant lock, “but you shall not speak. You need merely be seen.” He turned to his housekeeper, “Now, Mrs. Pearce, measure the girl for a first set of clothing, enough to give the mantua makers a basis on which to begin their task. They can refine their measurements once Eliza comes to Town.
“When she arrives, you will take her and give her a good scrubbing…”
“Professor Darcy!” Eliza protested, while the colonel shouted out, “Fitz!”
“I may be a country girl, Professor, but do not take issue with my ability to clean myself. We have bathing tubs here just as well as in London; we may bathe more often, indeed, for we are out so often in the mud and dust, and not on the dry streets of the city.” She peered at him through narrow eyes and raised her chin in defiance. She was delightful!
“Really, Darcy,” Richard added, “must you be so rough?”
“Very well, it seems I am shouted down. But Mrs. Pearce, her hair certainly needs attention; arrange to have it cut and styled. What else need we plan?”
By the end of the day, Mrs. Pearce had been tasked with arranging for a wardrobe, an expert in hair styling, a shoe maker, a dancing instructor, a singing teacher, and a specialist in deportment. Since Lizzy would eventually be presented at Court, sponsored by Lady Grant, as well as be seen with the gentleman at all manner of social events around Town, it was imperative that she acquit herself splendidly were she to be accepted as Darcy’s intended.
“You plan to keep the girl busy, Fitz!” the colonel chided as they took tea later that afternoon. “Between your lessons and all the activities you have planned for her, she shall barely have time to eat, let alone enjoy the company of her aunt and uncle. Must you work her quite so hard?”
Eliza’s expression could only be described as thankful for the colonel’s words. “I am vindicated, Professor,” she sighed as she sank, exhausted, into her chair. “I have been voicing my concerns over this heavy schedule all day, and you have ignored my every word. Surely you will heed your cousin.”
“Nonsense!” Darcy responded with a shake of his head. “A bit of hard work shan’t kill you.”
“But when shall I see my family? And what of the Grants? You have me busy from dawn to midnight.”
“Your cousins may come and visit you at appointed times during the day, if they arrange their schedules with me in advance. I should not wish to remove you completely from your family. See, Eliza, I am not a harsh master at all.”
The colonel shrugged in defeat and rolled his eyes, and Mrs. Pearce sighed. Eliza summoned up a smile. “’Tis all for the best, I shall remind myself constantly,” she said. Darcy then thought he also heard her mutter something under her breath about cursing him and all his ilk.
Accepting her smile for what it was, Darcy turned to gaze out of the window whilst Eliza muttered more unintelligible things under her breath.
“By blazes, is that who I think it is?” he suddenly burst out.
“What are you talking about, Darcy?” Richard walked over to join him at the window and peered out to where his cousin was staring. “Well, he has some gumption indeed!”
“Wickham?”
“Wickham.”
“Who, pray tell, is Wickham?” Eliza asked, before Mrs. Pearce had the opportunity to hush her.
“A most unsavoury sort, Eliza. Do not allow yourself to be caught up in his charming snares. He looks an angel, but he is the very devil himself, mark my words!”
She looked up in alarm. “I would expect such admonishment from the professor. Coming from you, Colonel, it puts this man’s character in a different light. I shall take your words to heart, for I have never heard you speak ill of anyone until now. Such condemnation must be richly deserved.”
“It is,” was all Richard replied.
“What did Wickham think coming here?” Darcy stormed at the window. “Damnation…”
“Professor Darcy! Language!” Mrs. Pearce scolded. “There is a lady present.”
Darcy scowled and muttered an insincere apology to Elizabeth, who must surely be growing accustomed to the most ungentlemanly language he so often used. He mumbled under his breath again and stomped across the carpeted floor before coming to a sudden halt. A sly smile stole over his face.
“I say, Mrs. Pearce, have we received any more letters from those Quakers in Wales? The ones with the socialist cooperative based on the new morality and whatever-it-is they do? Yes? Perhaps I shall respond to the next one! I have a most splendid idea.” And he refused any further commentary on the matter.
Time passed, as it is wont to do, and soon they had arrived at the final few days before Jane’s wedding. Lizzy was delighted for her sister, but more than frustrated at her mother. Mrs. Bennet was quite carried away in a fluster of activity, punctuated by attacks of her nerves, which required everybody to cease his or her activities to tend to her, after which she would fly into another tizzy about how nobody was doing any work to prepare but her. Between her mother’s demands and Professor Darcy’s, Lizzy felt she might well be fit for Bedlam by the day of the nuptials. Eventually she begged off her lessons for the duration, in order to better tend to her mother and to help her sister pack.
Another inducement to this temporary respite from the professor and his lessons was the arrival, two days before the wedding, of the Gardiner family of London. Lizzy had long been looking forward to their visit, and it was to her greatest delight and relief that she saw their carriage rounding the bend in the lane that led to Longbourn. Hopefully she would find some balm for her own overburdened nerves in Aunt Gardiner’s calm and sensible company.
The evening the Gardiners arrived, Mrs. Bennet had invited the party from Netherfield to dine, so as to introduce various family members to their new relations. The Hursts begged off, claiming a stomach ailment on the part of Mr. Hurst, and Caroline insisted she must remain behind to help her sister. They were not sorely missed.
Lizzy met the party in the entrance hall to the house, although the rest of the family were gathered in the salon. For some reason, she felt the need to greet the party quietly before the melee. Perhaps it was the desire to acquaint herself with the professor’s mood this evening, to determine whether he might be insufferable or endurable, so as better to prepare her relatives. Perhaps, she allowed a part of her to muse, she wished for a moment to converse with him removed from the necessities of public manners. She fussed with a vase for a moment until Mrs. Hill opened the front door and the three gentlemen from Netherfield filled the compact space.
Mr. Bingley sported a great grin and looked quite pleased with himself; he would, after all, be marrying the most beautiful girl in the county in a matter of hours. Colonel Fitzwilliam’s smile was of a different sort, broad and generous, radiating his good humour to all around him. But the smile that caused her to catch her breath was Professor Darcy’s. As his eyes met hers, he stopped still and allowed a slight smile to creep across his face. It was not proud like Bingley’s, nor exuberant like the colonel’s, but it was genuine and almost shy, and it reached his dark eyes which glinted their approval.
“Miss Eliza.” His voice was almost a whisper, and he bowed deeply. She curtseyed in return and found her feet unable to move as he handed his hat and coat to the waiting footman and crossed the small space to her side. He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips in an elegant kiss, then offered his elbow. “Will you do me the honour of leading me to meet your relations?”
Somehow Lizzy led him through the house, although he knew the way well, to the salon where her family were gathered. As they reached the doorway, the professor stayed her with a hand atop of her own as it rested on his forearm, and he stepped aside to allow Bingley and the colonel to enter first. Such was the ado around the bridegroom’s entrance into the salon that Lizzy and Darcy were able to slip into the room relatively unnoticed.
She felt more than saw his eyes scan the room. In a low voice, he whispered, “Who is the couple seated on that green settee? Can those be your London relatives?” Lizzy nodded. “I confess myself surprised,” he clucked. “They are much more urbane and sophisticated than I had dared to expect from a family in trade. Do their manners match their appearance?”
Forcing herself not to react to this arrogant question, she began to walk over to her aunt and uncle, who rose as they approached. “They are much younger than I had expected,” Darcy whispered in her ear; “Your uncle is much your mother’s junior, I see, and your aunt looks not much older than I.”
Introductions were made and brief words were exchanged. Then Darcy made his pronouncements. “You, Mr. Gardiner, are an interesting study. London, born and bred, but well educated in Town, before being sent abroad to university. Not Boston… King’s?” Gardiner’s eyes widened, but he said nothing as the professor continued. “You travel, or have travelled, for your business, and have learned to moderate your speech to be easily understood and approachable wherever you are, but you have spent much of the last decade in London. Were I not to have my particular gifts and talents, I should never imagine you to be anything other than a son of a gentleman with a comfortable but not excessive holding.”
Lizzy had warned her uncle about Darcy’s blunt manner, and she suppressed a smile at his deliberately stoic expression. When the professor turned to her aunt, however, her uncle gratified her by rolling his eyes heavenward and shaking his head while an amused half-smile flickered on his pleasant face.
The professor inclined his head to Mrs. Gardiner, then listened attentively as she spoke. “My niece has written about you and your talents,” the lady told him, “and her claims were not overblown. Your skill is remarkable, for you have pegged my husband down completely!”
With a genteel bow, Darcy stared at the lady, his mouth all but agape, before shaking his head with a slight smile and subjecting her to his analysis. “You are not at all what I had expected,” he began.
“How so, sir?” she cocked her head to one side and observed him from the corners of her eyes.
“I had expected you also to have been born into the wealthy merchant class, but no, you are the daughter of a gentleman, raised finely and given a good education as well. You sound every bit the lady of Town. But… I hear the slightest touch of the north. By gum, you are from Derbyshire as well! Near Lambton, if my ears do not deceive me. Now, what estate is there near Lambton other than Pemberley? Not Woolforth… no, not Rushmede… nor Heatheringford… Arlenby! You are the daughter from the Arlenby estate! And of course, Grant is your brother. I might have known! I knew your father when I was a youth, Mrs. Gardiner, and I was very sorry to hear of his unfortunate passing. He was a good and honest man, and you should be proud of your heritage. Now, if your kind husband will permit me to monopolise you for some minutes, I should be most gratified to exchange news about persons we might know in common!”
Mr. Gardiner looked on in amusement, and Lizzy stared, stunned into speechlessness, as the professor took the lady’s elbow and led her to a sofa, whereupon he fetched her some tea and sat down beside her for a comfortable chat.
“Close your mouth, Lizzy,” her uncle whispered good-naturedly. She did so immediately. “I assume the professor is not always thus?” He gestured to where the tall man was sitting comfortably, but very correctly, engaged in a deep and obviously mutually enjoyable conversation with his wife, sipping tea delicately and nibbling exactly the proper amounts of small cakes.
“No! No, indeed,” Lizzy’s eyes were wide with amazement. “I have never seen him act this way at all. He talks all the time of the importance of fine manners, but until now, I had not believed him to possess them at all. And I confess, until this moment, I had never heard him utter three polite sentences in succession. I am all astonishment!”
“As you should be,” came a friendly voice. The colonel had approached, and Lizzy quickly and very properly introduced him to her uncle. The colonel wore his bright smile, and the two men took to each other immediately. “I see my cousin is determined to destroy his carefully crafted reputation of unsociability,” he continued after some initial comments and greetings. “He really does know how to behave in public, Miss Elizabeth, although we see little enough evidence of it at home. What have you done to him to entice him to simper and coo so elegantly to your aunt? You must tell me, so we may replicate the circumstances when needed!”
Turning to Gardiner, the colonel said, “I believe our Miss Elizabeth will be staying at your house when she repairs to London after Christmas. How very pleasant for her, to be happily situated with such fine and caring relations. We will, I am certain, be much in the same company, and I anticipate many a pleasant conversation over brandy or coffee.”
As the men talked comfortably together, Lizzy considered the cousins, one so easy and friendly, always with a good word for another, the other so curt and rude, and she was amazed that they were of the same family. Then she considered herself and her own sisters and tittered. Physical traits might be similar within members of a family, but personalities almost never were! Happy that her uncle and Colonel Fitzwilliam were satisfied to be left talking together, she set off in search of Jane and Charles.
There were no delays, no complications, no last-minute problems, as Jane and Charles Bingley wed in a simple and meaningful ceremony, conducted by the village vicar who had christened Jane as a babe. A couple as well-matched and even-tempered as the Bingleys must have all the fates working in their favour. Even the weather, normally so unpredictable in the latter part of December, was mild and perfect, with only sufficient high white clouds in the cerulean sky to add a picturesque element to what might otherwise have been too perfect.
Likewise the wedding breakfast was everything it ought to have been. Mrs. Bennet, for all her wailings and affectations and nerves, was a consummate hostess and had managed an exceptional celebration for after the nuptials. In due time, the newlywed couple departed for their house in London, leaving the remaining guests at Netherfield to see to their belongings before departing as they desired over the following days.
Professor Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam made a quick stop at Longbourn on their way back to London. Their trunks and belongings had gone on ahead with their personal attendants, leaving only the two men in Darcy’s fine carriage. Whilst they took tea with the Bennets, the driver and coachmen took their own refreshments in the kitchen before commencing the chilly ride to town.
Professor Darcy surprised Elizabeth once more by dusting off his fine manners—the ones he had displayed so brilliantly for Mrs. Gardiner—and showing them off to their best advantage. He complimented Mrs. Bennet on a first-rate breakfast (“I have never seen finer, even amongst the first circles in London”), thereby endearing himself eternally to her, and he congratulated Mr. Bennet on acquiring, through Jane, the finest son in England. If he murmured “thus far,” no one purported to have heard him. Darcy took a very proper leave of the family, lingering only briefly with Elizabeth, as one might expect of a courting couple still wishing to observe the dictates of propriety. The colonel, however, felt no such compunction and said quietly to her as he prepared to climb into the carriage, “You have been good for our lad. Very good, indeed!” And with that, the men were off.
The Gardiners lingered at Longbourn until just after Christmas, at which time Mr. Gardiner needed to return to his business. Mrs. Gardiner confessed to Lizzy that she and her children were also pleased to be returning to their well-ordered home, but of course said nothing of this to Mrs. Bennet, so proud was she of her exuberant hospitality.
There was one more passenger in the Gardiners’ carriage on this return journey, for as planned, Lizzy was to join them for the foreseeable future in London. She kissed her parents and sisters goodbye and promised to write faithfully, and to see Jane as soon as she possibly could. She had taken her leave of Charlotte the previous evening, and was ready for her grand adventure. As she saw her home disappear around the curve of a wooded lane, she realised that she would never return to it as the same person she was now.
She would become someone new in London. That was a certainty: it was the very purpose of this journey. She had mastered enough of the patterns of speech Professor Darcy had set before her to be able to effect a facsimile of the accent of the upper classes with concentration and effort. Until now it had been pretence, as an actor in a play assumes new personae with each production. Now that persona must become real, must take on life and essence. She must assume that new person as her identity henceforth. She might remain the same Lizzy inside, but for all appearances, she would leave a country girl and return, hopefully, a grand lady. The thought was sobering and really rather terrifying.
These thoughts consumed her for the bulk of the journey. Her aunt and uncle spent much of their time on the trip answering the endless questions of their four young children, leaving Lizzy with the solitude, if not silence, in which to ponder her self-selected fate.
The lessons recommenced immediately following the arrival of the new year. “I do not believe in allowing my students a long break for the holidays,” Professor Darcy had intoned when announcing his plans. “If there is a need for a rest from studying, I question the desire of said student to learn.”
Consequently, each morning thereafter he sent a small covered buggy over to the Gardiners’ house, which would convey Lizzy as discretely as possible through the streets of London to Darcy House, where her lessons would take place. Every morning the coachman drove her to the mews at the back of the house, to enter through the servants’ gate with the deliveries, so as to avoid the public spectacle of a young lady arriving so regularly and unattended at a single gentleman’s house. It was all terribly irregular, but the teacher and student were both satisfied by the plans, buttressed by the contingency that should any gossip be spread, Professor Darcy would immediately announce the engagement, thereby preserving Lizzy’s good name.
Her buggy arrived early each morning, allowing her to attain Darcy’s house by eight o’clock, long before the fashionable world was awake. The professor also did not approve of late mornings. The day began with tea, at the colonel’s insistence, where both he and Darcy would instruct her on the finer points of dining in high society in the city. After tea came more lessons in elocution and pronunciation, which Lizzy despised.
“Repeat after me, Eliza: quality, charity, ability.” Professor Darcy looked as alert and fresh as he had at eight o’clock, no matter that the lesson had been going on for hours.
Lizzy was feeling much less energetic and had all but given up hope for surviving the morning. “I have repeated it so many times, I can hardly hear the sounds anymore, Professor.”
“Then we still have some space within which to work. ‘Ability…’”
“Ability… Is that not what I’ve been saying? I really cannot hear the difference anymore. The sounds all combine into one chaotic morass in my ears. Ability, ability, ability. Quality, charity, humanity, impossibility! They all sound the same!”
“Oh dear, Eliza. You are become much too distraught to learn. Take a drink of water and breathe. Now once again: Listen to the ultimate syllable. Not merely the position of the vowel in the mouth, but the quality of it, the tone, the lilt of the voice, the shortness. ‘A-bi-li-tih.’”
“A-bi-li-tee.”
“Keep the final vowel shorter, further back. Recall that the sound originates with the French aigu , but that it sounds far superior in English. The sound verges towards the short e sound, but never quite achieves it. ‘Ih… ih…’ Now… ‘A-bil-li-tih.’ Better, better. Again. And again.”
“No, no, no, Eliza. You have it completely wrong. The word is ‘gentleman.’ The letters are all distinct. Observe the medial consonant blend with the T and the L. You are exploding the T off the roof of your mouth with the surface of your tongue, and letting it combine with some crude approximation of an L. But no, that it not what is done. You must keep the letters separate, no matter the blend. Observe the T: t-t-t. Tip of the tongue on the teeth. Tip, tongue, teeth. T-t-t. Now repeat.”
These endless, vexing lessons were enough of a chore, as Lizzy endeavoured, sometimes with very limited success, to hear and then reproduce the litany of vowels, or to repeat words over and over without resorting to a medial glottal stop, but when the professor insisted on filling her mouth with marbles and forcing her to recite poetry, she protested.
“Ah cahhn…” she sputtered through the marbles. “Ah cah ha’ee bee…”
“Speak more clearly, Eliza. I cannot understand you at all. This will never do.”
“Ah theh Ah cahhn…” she repeated.
“I believe, Fitz, the lady is saying that she can’t. She can hardly breathe.”
“Oh, no, Richard. I’m not asking her to breathe. Merely to recite the poem:”
Lizzy emptied the marbles into the handkerchief she had in her reticule and immediately flung one at the professor. It hit him on the arm, and the hurt look he flung at her in return would have been pitiable had it not been so well deserved.
“That hurt!” he protested. “What on earth was that for?”
“Fitz, you are too hard on the girl,” Richard exclaimed. “If this is so manageable a task, why not show her yourself?”
“Very well,” said Darcy, placing a handful of marbles into his own mouth.
He uttered a handful of barely distinguishable syllables before stopping suddenly, his eyes opening wide in shock and alarm. Ridding himself of the rest of the marbles, he gasped, “I believe I swallowed one!”
Despite Richard’s howls of laughter and demands for further demonstration, the exercise was not repeated.
After the morning’s lessons and a quick lunch, during which time the Gardiner children were permitted to pay a short visit to their cousin in the confines of the back courtyard to the house, the additional tutors would arrive, depending on the day of the week.
On Mondays, Elizabeth glided around the large library with a stack of books on her head, as a stout matron shouted commands at her to improve her posture.
She practiced at the pianoforte on Tuesdays, under the guidance of a rather sweet Italian musician, with Darcy hovering the entire time, glaring at the music master every time he moved too close to Lizzy to correct her hand position or fingering.
On Wednesdays, she would stand still for hours while the dressmakers came and fitted her again and again for a seemingly inexhaustible supply of clothing. Morning dresses, day dresses, evening dresses, ball dresses… Then came the pelisses and wraps and spencers and outerwear for winter, and the boots and shoes and slippers, not to mention the gloves and bonnets and inexpressibles.
On Thursdays the language masters came, one after the other. Lizzy spoke rather good French and had learned Latin and Greek with her father, but a lady of the ton was also expected to know some Italian and German, and it was these she must necessarily learn. “No, no, no!” Darcy would shout as he sat and read—or pretended to read—whilst she toiled at her studies. “You have finally perfected that vowel in English, but you must not use it in German. It will not do at all. Listen to Herr Breuger again, and do it his way, not mine!”
On Fridays, the dancing master arrived. “Why do I require lessons for this? I know how to dance, Professor Darcy,” she informed him when first told of this set of lessons. “If I recall, we were first introduced at a dance.”
“Perhaps so, Eliza, but a country dance in a village’s assembly rooms, even at a country house, cannot be held in comparison to a rout or soiree in a duke’s grand estate. Your schottische and reel might be adequate for Meryton, but not for finer society. Attend the master; you must also learn the Quadrille and, of course, the Waltz. It is highly scandalous, of course, but it is now danced at every ball, and as a betrothed couple, we will be expected to waltz together. I shall, of course, practice with you.” He seemed quite pleased at this pronouncement. Lizzy had heard of the waltz, although she had not seen it performed; still, she knew it involved prolonged contact between the couple dancing, with no changing of partners. She took a deep breath and steadied herself. She ought to have been horrified at the prospect of learning such an intimate dance with the professor, but somehow the thought did not bother as much as she had expected it to.
“Who shall provide the music?” she asked. “Will the tutor bring a pianist?”
“Richard can play. He is reasonably adequate at the pianoforte.” Another surprise! She had no notion that the colonel was at all proficient on an instrument, although with his mellifluous voice, it ought not to have been a surprise. She recalled one of her first conversations with the colonel, wherein they had discussed music. Charlotte had certainly made mention of his singing voice over the course of their acquaintance. It would, she decided, be most intriguing to hear the colonel at the keyboard.
Lizzy was suddenly rather eagerly anticipating Fridays.
The dancing master, when he arrived, proved to be a very pleasant man in his middle-thirties, old enough to be commanding and sure, but young enough to have the energy and vigour to perform the steps he taught. Master Hughes, for this was his name, arrived precisely on time—he knew Professor Darcy from previous pupils, and knew that punctuality was de rigueur !—and upon being announced, fairly leapt into the room like a danseur from a ballet. Somewhat delicate in manner, he moved with a lithe grace, every motion perfectly controlled and a thing of beauty, and Lizzy wondered, for the first time, if she would really be able to achieve the accomplishments the haut ton expected her to possess. But Master Hughes proved to be an excellent and encouraging teacher, leaving Lizzy happy with the choice.
“Very good, very good, Miss Bennet!” He minced over to her and, tacitly asking and receiving her permission, adjusted her arms into the correct position. “Turn the wrist just a hair more… there! Oh, Professor Darcy, is she not perfect?” Darcy was most interested in the lesson, but did not exhibit any of the possessiveness he displayed with Signor Rossi, the pianoforte tutor. “Now, Miss Bennet, may I? Oh lovely, darling. Yes, your left foot, just a touch higher… yes, lovely! That will allow you to execute the next step without catching on your gown. Lovely, lovely!”
Colonel Fitzwilliam proved to be a most excellent pianist, and he happily provided the music for these lessons, which Lizzy soon came to enjoy very much. She developed a sweet friendship with the dancing master, whom she thought, in her most private of thoughts, might be a good match for a carpenter she knew in Meryton. But these matters were forbidden and must remain unspoken, and so she attended only to the dance.
At last came the day when they were to learn the dreaded and most highly anticipated waltz. At first, Master Hughes described the steps, and had Lizzy try them alone. “There, Miss Bennet, start from the fifth position, as we learned before, and now, yes, yes, darling, have your right foot in front; the gentleman starts with his left in front. Lovely. Pass your foot forwards into fourth position, and then point the toes on the second beat of the bar. Lovely! Lovely!” After she had perfected the pattern and then executed it to the satisfaction of all with the colonel providing the music, it was time to attempt it with a partner.
Master Hughes offered himself up for the first set of practices. He was a wonderful dancer and with him leading her around the room, Lizzy felt the steps she had just learned become a natural response to the music. So confident was she that she could find no reason to object when Master Hughes suggested that Darcy now take his place, so he could stand back and observe.
But when the professor stepped close and carefully placed his hand between her shoulder blades, Lizzy felt the room begin to sway around her. The proximity of the professor’s body impinged on her senses so much more than had the dancing master’s. Was it Darcy’s height? She had not before realised quite how tall he stood, for now, so close to him, she noticed that her head reached only up to his shoulder, and she could not turn her face up sufficiently to meet his eye without feeling ridiculous. The breath caught in her throat and she might have stiffened briefly, for Darcy stepped back slightly to allow her more space, smirking as he did so. He did not allow his hand to fall from her back and silently offered his other for her to take.
“It is customary, Miss Bennet, for the lady to place her hand on the gentleman’s shoulder; however, you may also choose any comfortable place on his upper arm. Lovely!”
Somehow, Lizzy managed her way through the steps of the dance, moving her feet and arms, and pirouetting appropriately around the space in the music room, but her awareness was only on the man who moved with her. His presence was somehow overwhelming, eclipsing every other thing in the room. The touch of his hand now just above her waist, then shifting position to slide up her back, seared through her senses; his other hand, gloveless in the privacy of the house, cradling her own, felt like hot coals and frozen ice, all at once. These sensations had not happened when she danced with Master Hughes… why did the professor affect her so? It must be, she allowed, the threat of censure should she fail, but she could not ignore the very small voice that insisted that perhaps, just perhaps, she found his proximity too pleasant and alluring. No , she told the voice, that would never do . Their arrangement was one of business and they must, inevitably part ways at its conclusion; besides, she did not like the rude and overbearing man at all! And still she thrilled at the dance and let his careful touch burn her skin.
They stopped moving when the music ended, and Master Hughes made his accustomed coos and compliments, though his words were meaningless sounds to Lizzy’s ears. It was only when Professor Darcy turned to her and bowed, murmuring in a deep voice, “You dance beautifully,” that she returned to herself and, blushing deeply, answered suitably.
“Thank you, Professor. You are easy to follow. I could have danced all night.”
“Let Miss Bennet rest a moment,” the colonel called from the keyboard. “She is flushed, and must certainly wish to sit and take some water.” Relieved at the respite, Lizzy hurried to the side table where a pitcher and some glasses stood waiting, As she sipped thankfully, she glanced over to the professor, and was not certain whether she was pleased or bothered to see that he, too, looked affected by the dance. Fridays would be, she determined quite interesting indeed!