She withdrew from Mrs Hurst and came with a light smile. “Congratulations, Thomas. What a joyous day. I am so happy for Jane!”
“Aye, she will do well enough. I’ve no doubt the housekeeper shall rule over her within a fortnight and her husband will bankrupt himself investing in her beauty, but they are both of such an easy disposition I doubt either circumstance shall trouble them.”
“Thomas!” she laughed. “I think they are more prudent than you give credit for. Two such kindred souls cannot be prone to folly, and they have learnt much from the vices of others.”
“They would be wiser than most of their persuasion, then. I scarcely remember my own younger years, so lost was I in my fancies and whims at the time. Tell me, Madeline, what circumstance could cause one who has been so much in the habits of pleasure—which had always seemed synonymous with their nature—to appear suddenly downtrodden? Is it a malady peculiar to young ladies, or have I so long forgotten my own youth that the explanation escapes me?”
Her face sobered and she glanced toward the kitchen. “You are speaking of Lizzy?”
“Indeed, none other. Why, even my cousin Mr Collins failed to amuse her! She has ever possessed a quickness and a clever humour that have allowed me to depend on her, at least, as an amiable companion, but I have found more stimulating conversation with Mrs Bennet of late.”
Madeline’s lips pinched in thought. “Elizabeth has been sorely disappointed, Thomas. You must understand that one of her character does not find it easy to…” she paused, searching for words, “…to excuse the offences of others where the injury was hers.”
“Ho! Do not attempt that explanation. It would do very well for Mary, but not for Elizabeth, who would be as apt to laugh off any injustice as otherwise.”
“I think Elizabeth nurtured a hope which none of us might have understood, Thomas.”
“You are not saying that she had some lover who has left her over Lydia’s affairs? No, I could not believe it of Lizzy. She is of such an open, cheerful disposition that if she had some admirer, we should all have known of it. And what should it be to her if such a fool did exist? A man who would desert such a prize as my Lizzy over a sister’s scandal seems hardly worthy of her.”
“Indeed, Thomas, I think as highly of Elizabeth as Mr Bingley clearly does of Jane. Such an event has ruined many a family’s happiness, for just cause or no, but I think any man of sense would recognise Elizabeth for the treasure she is. However, I do not imply that she has been jilted for that cause. I think her expectations were more general, and she now feels herself without direction.”
He studied her careful expression, her composed response, and judged—correctly—that there remained some hidden meaning that she would not pronounce. “Perhaps,” he mused very quietly, “a diversion might be in order. I had hesitated to send any of the girls from Longbourn for a time, but with Jane settled and Lydia appearing to suffer no further ill consequences for her escapade….”
Madeline’s brows arched sharply. “Truly?” she whispered. “Oh, that is good news! Such a relief it must be.”
“Indeed,” he grimaced and changed the unpleasant topic. “I have faith in Elizabeth’s discretion and your guidance. If she should desire to pay your family a visit in London, perhaps for the remainder of the Season, I should not object. A change of scenery might do her good, now that her favourite sister will be occupied by other matters.”
“I heartily agree, Thomas. I will speak first to Edward and then to Elizabeth. If she agrees, I think she ought to remain with us until spring. Her cousins do adore her so. I think it would be a happy circumstance for all.”
“All save myself!” bemoaned Mr Bennet. “With Jane married and Lizzy in London, I shall not hear two words of sense together in this house.”
“If I am not mistaken, Lizzy speaks little enough as it is. You will have lost nothing more by sending her away,” she smiled.
“Aye, there is that.” He stopped and shed a little paternal smile as the very young woman in question passed by them again for the stairs. She appeared in no hurry, but she could not be troubled to give more than a cursory greeting to either her father or favourite aunt.
Mr Bennet’s face clouded once more. “See that you take her out,” he sighed. “If I am not mistaken, she rather enjoyed the symphony. I will forward enough spending money for whatever she requires.”
“The money will not be necessary,” she assured him. “It will be my pleasure to try to cheer her.”
Pemberley
“Take her back to London!” Richard Fitzwilliam’s fingers curled into fists, longing to tug at his collar or rake his fingers through his hair. He had to continually remind himself that he wasnotwith the men of his regiment, but with his aunt, and she would consider such mannerisms vulgar in the extreme.
“Aunt Catherine, it is impossible. Georgiana has been inconsolable, and to expose her to London again so soon, when she is still so fragile, is—”
“Is exactly what she needs, Fitzwilliam! She cannot hide away here at Pemberley. She must be seen among Society!”
“With all due respect Aunt, I disagree. No one could expect a girl of not yet seventeen who has just lost her brother to carry on as though all is well. What do you think for her to do? She could not attend public events before, but even less can she do so now!”
“She needs to receive female guidance, not the attentions of an unenlightened bachelor! People will begin to talk. Anne and I will come to Darcy house and act as hostesses for her, so she may receive callers,” Lady Catherine decided. “She must become acquainted with the ladies of theton. Many alliances are forged during morning calls, Fitzwilliam.”
Richard drew a sharp breath, and his eyes rounded. Lady Catherine taking charge of Georgiana? The poor girl would become as overborne and timid as Anne—why, even more so, for Georgiana had already experienced far more trauma.
“Aunt, I cannot allow it!” he protested. “You are concerned for Georgiana’s future, which I quite understand, but I am more troubled by her present. I, too, was doubtful at bringing her back here to Pemberley, but here at least she does not keep to her rooms as she did at Matlock House. She is still despondent, but she walks the halls and the orangery here, and though her companion is frequently called away, Mrs Reynolds has proved a comfort to her. She is not strong enough to face a string of Society mamas, all desiring a match for their second sons.”
“Second son!” scoffed the Lady. “Georgiana will settle for nothing less than a viscount!”
“And do you also have a suitor arranged for her?”
