A More Reasonable Young Woman
Georgiana Darcy was a pleasant young woman. Or at least it seemed that way to Elizabeth. The truth was the girl was shy to the point of being unable to speak—Elizabeth had known this since making her acquaintance in London before her return to her home. In London, however, Elizabeth had not associated with her much due to her departure soon after. The situation was not the same in Rosings, where they would live in the same house for some weeks.
“She has always been thus,” said Charity when the subject arose between them. “It is strange, if you think of it, for we are not a family of retiring people. I do not remember her mother well, but my mother tells me that Lady Anne was a quiet woman, though not lacking in confidence.”
It was difficult, therefore, to include Georgiana in their activities when she would speak but little. And Elizabeth wished to include her, wished to learn more of the sister she would acquire through marriage. What woman did not wish to be on good terms with her husband’s sister? Elizabeth made every effort, therefore, to coax her to participate in their discussions and activities. There were two subjects which brought her into their company more than any other, subjects Elizabeth might not have considered.
“It is time you decided,” said Lady Catherine the night of Charity’s arrival at Rosings. “Should you decide to marry from Rosings, there is little reason to wait, as all your near family is present.” Lady Catherine turned to Mrs. Bennet. “Do you suppose your brother and sister will wish to attend?”
“My brother Gardiner will wish to be present,” said Mrs. Bennet, “for he has always been close to my eldest daughters. Mrs. Phillips will also wish to see Lizzy marry.”
“We can send our carriage to retrieve them,” said Mr. Bennet, and then to Lady Catherine added: “My brother Phillips is the town’s solicitor. While his practice is successful, they do not have the means to travel great distances.”
“I understand, Mr. Bennet. That is an honorable profession; we shall be happy to have them should they plan to join us.”
As she spoke those words, Elizabeth watched her, wondering if the lady would show any distaste. To Elizabeth’s eyes, there was none, again a departure from what she might have thought when she made the lady’s acquaintance. No sooner had the thought appeared than Elizabeth chastised herself. Had Lady Catherine not proven herself repeatedly? It was time to stop analyzing everything she said for ulterior motives and acknowledge the lady was not as she had initially thought.
“Then what do you wish, Elizabeth?” asked Lady Catherine, pulling Elizabeth from her thoughts. “Darcy? Do you have a preference?”
“If Elizabeth meets me at the altar, I would be happy with the meanest church in all England.”
Elizabeth smiled at him and said: “It matters not to me. If you are agreeable, I should be happy to marry at Hunsford.”
“Then we should inform Mr. Collins and decide on a date. If you accept my advice, I suggest marrying before the end of the month and then spending a little time in London before the end of the season. By then summer will be upon us, and you can have your choice of locations for your wedding trip. The lakes are beautiful in the summer months.”
They agreed upon a day toward the end of the month and Lady Catherine and Mrs. Bennet fell to a discussion about the arrangements for the wedding breakfast. Snippets of conversation between the two elder ladies drifted to Elizabeth’s ears occasionally, and Elizabeth was pleased to know Lady Catherine pushed back against Mrs. Bennet’s more extravagant plans, reminding Mrs. Bennet that Elizabeth would not marry in Hertfordshire where a lifetime’s worth of acquaintances would attend. It was clear that Mrs. Bennet was disappointed, but she seemed to rally tolerably.
Such topics of conversation continued into the next day, which was when Miss Darcy showed her enthusiasm. While Elizabeth might not have thought a young girl of her age would care much to speak of wedding breakfasts—Kitty and Lydia were not at all interested—the girl made a simple observation which helped Elizabeth understand her better.
“William is my only sibling. I wish to make his special day one worthy of the dearest remembrance.”
Elizabeth smiled at the girl, prompting a more genuine response than before. “Yes, I can see how you would wish to contribute. Your brother, I understand, has been your guardian these past five years.”
“Along with my Cousin Anthony,” replied Georgiana. “Colonel Fitzwilliam. I owe much to them, and my Fitzwilliam relations, for they have been our closest family for many years.”
“You have often stayed with them,” observed Elizabeth, thinking of the summer before when she had met William.
Miss Darcy ducked her head, her thoughts seeming to return to the misstep of the previous summer, of which Elizabeth had heard only recently. “Yes, I do. They have been very good to me.”
Sensing it would not be advisable to approach nearer to that subject—and it was not truly any of Elizabeth’s concern—Elizabeth steered the conversation away to other topics. Through this slight opening in her veil of reserve, Elizabeth was able to introduce other subjects of interest and slowly draw the girl from her shell. As she learned more of her future sister, she discovered other facets of her character, including a subject about which she was most verbose.
“I love to play!” exclaimed Georgiana when Elizabeth made some slight mention of the pianoforte. “Do all your sisters play, Miss Elizabeth?”
“Jane plays a little, and Mary possesses as much enthusiasm for the instrument as you do yourself. In my case, I can play, but as I have many interests, I can rarely take the trouble to practice; as a result, my playing is quite ill.”
“Do not allow her such claims, Georgiana,” said Lady Catherine, proving she had been listening to their discussion. “It is quite fine, in fact, and your brother has claimed hearing Elizabeth play is among his most pleasurable activities.”
“I should very much like to hear you play, Miss Elizabeth,” said Miss Darcy.
“And so you shall,” said Lady Catherine. The look she gave Elizabeth informing her that Lady Catherine thought herself sly. “I was speaking to Miss Mary, who is also interested in the pianoforte, and have arranged to bring in a master for their tutoring. I am certain it will be no trouble if you sat in on their lessons.”
Elizabeth could not help but laugh, for Lady Catherine had found a way around her reluctance to receive instruction. For her part, Mary appeared excited, for her sessions with a master had been limited. Given Mary’s playing, which was technically proficient yet somewhat pedantic, Elizabeth thought her sister would benefit from instruction more than she would herself. Thus, she smiled her acceptance. It did not escape Elizabeth’s attention that Lady Catherine’s smile grew larger.
“Perhaps you would like to go to the pianoforte now?” asked Georgiana of Mary, her manner all that was shy. “It has been some days since I practiced.”
“I would love to,” said Mary, as she fidgeted in her eagerness.
As the two girls rose, Lady Catherine addressed them, saying: “Open the doors between the two rooms, for I believe we should all appreciate hearing your efforts.”
Soon the strains of their playing, punctuated by the girls’ laughter drifted through the adjoining door. Charity, who had been sitting in silence nearby, rose and approached Elizabeth, sitting nearby.
“Well, I dare say your manner is amazing, Elizabeth. I have never seen Georgiana warm to someone as quickly as she has today!”
“I should hope so, for I wish to have good relations with my future sister.”
“Of course, you do,” replied Charity.
“Yes,” said Jane, sitting nearby and seeming introspective, “good relations with one’s future family is much to be prized.”
“Do not worry for Miss Bingley, Jane,” said Elizabeth, knowing at once to what her sister referred. “She will come to accept you, and if she does not, why, you may simply avoid her. I understand she is not likely to be in town often. And Mrs. Hurst seems like she is of a more complying temperament.”
“Yes, she is,” said Jane. “I received a letter from her not long before our departure from London assuring me of her support, regardless of whatever her sister says.”
“Then you should hold to that, Jane,” said Charity.
Jane smiled and moved to join Mary and Georgiana at the pianoforte, though her glances at the door told Elizabeth she was waiting for Mr. Bingley’s return. Elizabeth was scarcely less eager to be in William’s company again and understood her sister’s desire.
“Your sister is an excellent woman, Elizabeth,” said Charity. “In fact, I may almost say that she is far too good for the likes of us mere mortals.”
Elizabeth laughed and nodded. “I have always thought of Jane as the best person of my acquaintance, though there have been times when I wished she had at least a little cynicism to balance her goodness.”
“For shame, Elizabeth!” said Charity. “You and I possess enough cynicism that Jane need not have any at all. We can guide her when necessary.”
“Then it is well that she has none,” replied Elizabeth.
“It seems our relations are getting along well,” said Catherine.
“It does,” said Mrs. Bennet. The woman’s manner was hesitant, though Catherine had done her best to put her at ease. “Lizzy can make friends wherever she pleases, but Jane is much less open.”
“We have been happy to have Elizabeth with us,” said Lady Catherine. She paused a moment, wondering if she should share her feelings on the matter. Then she decided it would assure the woman of her support and said: “I could not have imagined this only six months ago. For you know, I long desired that Darcy marry my daughter.”
Mrs. Bennet gasped and glanced at Anne, who was sitting in close conversation with Jane. “But you do not protest it now?”
The question was asked with much timidity as if the woman suspected an adverse reaction despite the evidence to the contrary. “Do not concern yourself, Mrs. Bennet, for I am quite reconciled to Darcy’s decision, though I will own I am at times a little wistful at what might have been. It is clear Elizabeth is good for my nephew, and that is all I could ask for.”
Reassured, Mrs. Bennet smiled. “They do seem to have made an excellent match.” The woman paused and her face fell a little. “I can only hope the rest of my daughters have the opportunity to make a suitable match too.”
“You doubt their ability to do so?” asked Catherine, understanding what Mrs. Bennet was saying.
The woman sighed. “Might I ask for your advice, Lady Catherine?”
“Of course, Mrs. Bennet. I am happy to help.”
When silence followed Catherine’s offer, she knew Mrs. Bennet was deep in thought. Whether she did not know what to say or how to say what she wished Catherine did not know, but she hoped Mrs. Bennet’s thoughts were on her youngest daughters. The days since the Bennets had arrived had firmed her opinion that Kitty and Lydia should not be in company at all, and likely should spend some time at a school learning how to be young ladies of their station.
“I am afraid I am struggling to know what to say, Lady Catherine,” ventured Mrs. Bennet at length.
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning.” Catherine smiled at her guest and added: “Whatever it is, do not suppose I will censure you for it. The most direct route to solving a problem is to confess it exists and confront it.”
Mrs. Bennet sighed and nodded. “The truth is I do not know if my younger girls measure up to the examples of their older sisters.”
“Your children are lovely, Mrs. Bennet,” assured Catherine. “Jane and Elizabeth in particular are excellent young women and will grace any society in which they appear.”
“But that is just it,” said Mrs. Bennet, her voice attaining plaintive tone. “I was not raised as a gentlewoman, Lady Catherine. My father was a solicitor, one who had lost his wife when I was quite young. My father, though he loved my sister and me, reserved most of his attention for my brother, leaving us to fend for ourselves.”
Mrs. Bennet paused and added: “I would not have you think I envy my brother, for Edward is a good man. But it is difficult now that I have married a gentleman. I have raised my daughters as best I could; it has become clear, however, that my best was not enough. Jane and Lizzy have become excellent women despite my efforts, for in truth, I often lack understanding about how to behave in polite society. My sister Gardiner assisted them when they were young, but she has had less time to devote to my children since her own were born. Lizzy and Jane often attempt to assist, but I will own I have not always welcomed their interference. Pride is a dangerous vice.
“Now, when I look at my youngest, I see that deficiency of restraint and behavior in them, and I wonder if their future can be as bright as Lizzy and Jane’s.” Mrs. Bennet’s eyes found her youngest girls, who were sitting close together in some conference or another. The woman sighed and turned back to Catherine. “I have also seen echoes of my own behavior in them. It has become clear to me that I have damaged my family’s standing in Meryton. I wish to improve myself. At the same time, I wish for more for my daughters.
“I suppose I hope to solicit your advice about how to proceed, for I do not know what is to be done.”
“First,” said Catherine when Mrs. Bennet fell silent, “I would not consider your efforts to be a failure, Mrs. Bennet.”
When her companion looked on her, skepticism brimming in her eyes, Catherine reached forward and patted her on the hand, emphasizing the point, wishing the woman to approach what they must do from a position of strength rather than doubt. “You have raised five excellent daughters, Mrs. Bennet. Your younger girls are intelligent and lively. They lack the ability to temper that liveliness and turn it in a more constructive direction. A few accomplishments would also not go amiss.
“What you have forgotten, however, is that as much as we teach, our children must be willing to listen to our advice. Not every child is the same. I dare say within your own family, raising Jane was nothing like raising Elizabeth.”
“Heavens, no!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. “Jane has always been a complying child, one who could be left on the floor with a toy and amuse herself with it for hours. Lizzy, however, was always moving, always engaged in some mischief or other. As we have never had the funds to hire many servants, the girls’ nurse also had other duties. Watching Lizzy was a task that consumed all her waking hours, for the girl would never sit still.”
“And yet, she has grown to be a lovely woman,” said Catherine. “When you look back on your children, though Elizabeth was restless and inquisitively, I suspect she was not the only child who required more watching. I also suppose she listened when required. Was that the way all your daughters were?”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head with some distraction. “No, Lizzy took to her lessons and seemed to be eager to learn everything she could. Lydia was my most difficult girl in that respect. All she wished to do was play. Inducing her to attend to her lessons, to learn to read and write was a chore.” Pausing, Mrs. Bennet added: “In fact, as I recall, Elizabeth became Lydia and Kitty’s primary tutor when she was younger.”
“And did she accept the duty willingly?” asked Catherine, interested to learn more of her future niece.
“She offered to do it,” said Mrs. Bennet. “I was becoming more frustrated with Lydia. Elizabeth has always commanded Lydia’s respect, even when Lydia pushed back and did not wish to listen to an elder sister.”
“That is interesting and confirms what I have observed,” replied Catherine. “Let me say that your daughters are not beyond amendment. Their energies need to be directed toward better manners. There are many ways that can be accomplished. Perhaps you could speak to your husband to determine the best way to proceed.”
For a moment, Mrs. Bennet appeared disappointed, as if she had wished for Catherine to direct her. Catherine was well aware of her nephews’ opinions, how they thought she meddled and directed and did not allow any dissension. But Catherine had always found those who discovered the solutions to their problems realized greater benefits. Not only were they more likely to take the steps required to improve, but their self-awareness would increase as a result.
“Yes, perhaps you are correct,” said Mrs. Bennet, appearing distracted. “In fact, I think I have just the thing in mind. Though perhaps my husband could engage a companion to instruct them, I think they required a more structured environment.”
Catherine responded with a slight smile; Mrs. Bennet, it seemed, was thinking what Catherine might have counseled if she had asked. “I am certain you will come to the proper decision, Mrs. Bennet.”
Mrs. Bennet nodded and focused on her. “That does not assist me to learn how to behave.”
“I think you only require minor alterations in your behavior, Mrs. Bennet,” said Catherine. “If you watch your daughters and my nieces and daughter, I am certain you will come to the proper conclusions. Should anything remain unclear, I would be happy to offer my advice.”
“Thank you, Lady Catherine,” said Mrs. Bennet, her gratitude overflowing in her voice.
“It is no trouble, Mrs. Bennet.”
The statement was no less than the truth. What to do about the Bennet family had been a subject about which Catherine had given much thought since making their acquaintance in November. Her brother, she knew, would rest much easier if he knew the Bennets could behave themselves, even though he did not appreciate the connection as being inferior. In her heart of hearts, Catherine could not say that she disagreed with him.
Against Elizabeth and Jane, however, there was nothing to criticize, for they were both wonderful girls. Should the rest of the family improve their standards of behavior, they would be acceptable. Catherine meant to ensure that change took place, for the standing of her family could not suffer as a result of their connection to this quixotic family.
“So I have met your young lady, and none of the praise with which Charity showered her was in any way overstated. As yet, however, I have heard little of your meeting, courtship, or other such matters. Will you not share?”
Darcy, who had been thinking of the day’s efforts, their fruitless search for the bounder Wickham, noted his cousin looking at him with interest. Though not as close to Banbury as he was to Fitzwilliam, he had always respected his cousin, for he was an excellent man, and in many ways, much more like Darcy than his brother.
“We met in London in an art gallery,” said Darcy. He had not shared the full story with anyone other than Fitzwilliam, but he knew he could trust his eldest cousin. “Miss Elizabeth made some comment of a piece of art we were both viewing.”
“And from there you struck up a friendship?” Banbury chuckled and said: “Given how you look at her, I suspect friendship did not last long.”
“I did not get her direction at that time,” replied Darcy, thinking back on those days. “I was fortunate that I met her in Hyde Park not long after. Her uncle, you see, lives nearby—not far distant from my house, actually.”
“That is serendipitous,” said Banbury. “One might almost wonder if it was fate.”
“Considering she may just have saved me from myself, I cannot disagree.”
Banbury frowned and regarded him with curiosity. “Do you speak of something in particular?”
Belatedly Darcy realized that other than Fitzwilliam, his cousins had not been told of Georgiana’s escape the previous summer. But if he could not trust his cousin, who could he trust? Thus, Darcy informed Banbury of the events of Ramsgate, how he had sent Georgiana with Lady Susan to Snowlock and remained in London, aimlessly loitering in the city he usually disdained. When he finished his account, his cousin looked at him with compassion.
“First, let me say that you should not take the entire blame on yourself. Perhaps you should have informed your sister, but Georgiana must also understand she should not allow such liberties as this Wickham obviously stole. Given all you have told me, it seems this meeting with Miss Bennet was the saving of you. It is incontrovertible that you appear happier than you have in many years.”
“I am,” was Darcy’s simple reply, for it was nothing but the truth.
“And Miss Elizabeth does not seem like the type of woman to cleave to a man for his position and wealth.”
“Certainly not!” said Darcy. “Our connection is true and deep, the likes of which I have never experienced with another.”
Banbury did not reply, for they were hailed as they walked onto Rosings’s drive. It was, Darcy was relieved to see, his Cousin Fitzwilliam, looking quite put out.
“It seems you have a veritable party here,” Fitzwilliam observed as he drew close, greeting them both with his usual brand of insouciance. “Though I was not unhappy to greet a bevy of pretty young ladies, I am rather infuriated that Wickham gave us the slip.”
“We have just returned from a search that turned up nothing,” offered Banbury.
Fitzwilliam gave his brother a sour look. “This does not sound much like the Wickham I know. Wickham likes his comforts. This hiding does not fit what I know of him.”
“A man will do many distasteful things when provoked by necessity,” said Darcy. “And we know nothing of his circumstances. We only have Elizabeth’s assurances that he is present at all.”
“That is the strangest part of this,” said Fitzwilliam. “Are you quite certain we can trust Miss Elizabeth in this matter?”
Though Darcy bristled at the implication, Banbury stepped in and interrupted before Darcy could say something impolitic. “Peace, Darcy. I do not believe my brother is questioning her trustworthiness.”
“I am not,” replied Fitzwilliam. “This must affect you to a great degree, Darcy, for normally you understand exactly what I mean to say.”
Darcy grunted: “I apologize if I have offended. In this matter, yes, I am quite affected, for Wickham has gone too far in his threats against Elizabeth.”
“Which is amazing in itself,” said Banbury. “Even Wickham’s offenses against Georgiana did not provoke this level of vengeance from you.”
“If I had had my way,” said Fitzwilliam, “Wickham would have met his end on the point of my cavalry blade.”
“The situation with Georgiana did offend me,” said Darcy, ignoring his younger cousin. “But we deemed it best to avoid provoking him into ruining Georgiana’s reputation.”
“You decided how to deal with him,” corrected Fitzwilliam. “As I noted, I was ready to respond in a quite different manner.”
“The other difference,” said Banbury, his tone more conciliatory, “is that Wickham was not physically threatening Georgiana as he is Miss Elizabeth. That may be a bit of a fine distinction, but it exists all the same.”
“Be that as it may,” said Fitzwilliam, “perhaps you should inform me what alerted you to Wickham’s presence, for your letter was not explicit. Then, I wish to know what you have done, how you have conducted your search, and what you have discovered. Tomorrow, I shall begin more general inquiries into the area, the neighbors, and the tenants.”
“Then let us go inside,” said Darcy, leading his cousins into the house. “Searching this morning was dusty work; a drink would not be amiss to loosen my parched throat.”
“Lead on, Cousin,” said Fitzwilliam. “I am at your disposal.”