“And you have been generously provided for on each of your journeys to see him?”
“Of course, Miss Bennet,” was the icy reply.
“I am glad to hear it. You must attend to him, of course. It is such a pity, however,” Elizabeth mused, “that you are called so frequently away from Miss Darcy. She has been rather vulnerable, and I know she misses your companionship terribly when you are away.”
“How fortunate for her that she has you and Mrs Wickham.”
Elizabeth thinned her lips. “Indeed. Please do not hesitate to make known your needs, Mrs Annesley. I wish you a comfortable journey, and I shall refer the notion of a physician to Miss Darcy.”
Mrs Annesley dipped a cold curtsey, which Elizabeth answered with marginally greater warmth. As the woman swept from the room, Elizabeth stared after her and crossed her arms. She truly had not wished for a confrontation, but perhaps it was inevitable. In the time since she had come there, Mrs Annesley had been far from the devoted adviser to Georgiana that Darcy had desired for her to be. She seemed more often distracted by correspondence, or unwell herself. This particular leave-taking was the third such—on record, at least—since Mr Darcy’s death. It was as if she deliberately left Georgiana’s side when she was most needed, but for what purpose Elizabeth could not fathom.
The curiosity was in the timing of each of these episodes. Elizabeth might not have noted it but for a peculiar coolness she felt whenever the woman was in the room, and therefore any information concerning her drew her interest. Coinciding with the dates of each of Mrs Annesley’s departures and the accompanying stipends, the household ledgers took a sharp turn. Fifty pounds here, thirty there—roughly two hundred in all. Lavish traveling expenditures for one woman, if that was what she was to take them for!
She chewed her lip in frustration.Darcy would have caught it.She sighed, feeling all the more incompetent. Naturally she could not be so clever about his private and extensive affairs as he had been, with his greater education and experience, but she hated the thought that she was disappointing his memory or allowing all that he had shepherded to come to ruin.
Inwardly she laughed at herself for her own imaginary drama. Two hundred pounds could scarcely ruin the Darcy fortune! She had only viewed the household budgets, which was what she was to teach to Georgiana, but even that flow of currency dwarfed all Longbourn’s coffers. An accounting error, surely… but that answer did not satisfy her.
Grumbling and casting another chagrined glance toward the ledgers, she decided to take a short break from them and retired to the sofa. She had brought Lady Georgina’s diary down from her room and had found it a most amusing diversion for when she had only a few moments to read. The lady’s pithy humour in her private writings never failed to make her chuckle. Very like Elizabeth’s father she was, recording all manner of candid observations on her husband, life at the estate, and the social obligations imposed upon one of her station. As was customary, Elizabeth could scarcely read a page before some irreverent remark would make her giggle and blush guiltily. Such an unconventional life and marriage the woman must have had!
18 October, 1758
“My husband came to me again last night, after nearly three months on the Continent. One would think that in such time, he might have practised adequately to improve his performance, but I find him as deficient as on previous occasions. He requires an heir, I suppose, and so for now I must become his mare. I think if he stroked me with the same kid gloves with which he rides that fool chestnut of his, I should happily leap fences and follow the hounds as well, so to speak!
I threatened to take me a lover of my own if he did not look to amend his approach, to which we both afterward shared a hearty laugh. He recommended that as soon as a son is born to us, I ought to importune his present guest: that Portuguese fellow with the name I do not trouble myself to pronounce. I retorted that the idea had merit, but only for his benefit. Privately, I came to detest the man after I discovered him laying hands on my chamber maid. Lady Margaret Fitzwilliam, however, seems to nurse something of a fascination for the man. She always did fancy an accent, but for myself….
“Lizzy, please forgive us for being so tardy!” Georgiana cried. “Lydia and I were trying a new dress for her.”
Elizabeth dropped the journal as though it had singed her fingers and gulped, attempting to compose herself. “Not to worry,” she croaked, “I have been well entertained.”
Georgiana danced near, all smiles as she swept her arms after herself to present a cocky Lydia, striding into the room with exaggerated grace. “Just look how well it suits her!”
Lydia paused for dramatic effect, then arched a hand over her head to twirl as one of the dancers she had seen at the ballet in London. She bowed her body backward until her stomach protruded awkwardly, and took a few hopping, ponderous leaps that fell far short of the original. All the while, she made certain to thrust her growing stomach with each step, so that it jiggled and bounced through the sheer fabric of the new gown. Her antics produced riotous giggles from Georgiana and even a mirthful chuckle from Elizabeth.
“Well, Lizzy, what do you think?” demanded her sister, coming to rest with a hand poised daintily in the air. “Am I not the very picture of elegance?”
“You are the picture of something, but I cannot yet decide what it is.”
“If I am to grow so awkward and fat, I shall at least do so in style. Look here, Lizzy! Is this not the most exquisite lace you have ever set eyes upon? Georgiana says it came directly from Paris. Would not Mama simply swoon for it?”
Elizabeth arched her brows in appreciation. “I believe she would.”
“Oh! You have not seen the best part.” Lydia rounded clumsily and flounced to the door of the library, where a patient maid had been waiting. She returned with her hands full of some floral confection, piled high with netting, bows, and feathers, and raised it over her own head as if in coronation. “How well the bonnet looks on me, do you not think? It was all Georgiana’s creation. Have I not taught her well?”
Elizabeth found herself seized by a violent cough, and turned her head politely away. “Pardon me, but the fire has made the room dry,” she mumbled hoarsely. “It is—” she coughed again, “—a valiant effort, Georgiana. You must have invested many an hour into such a work of art.”
Georgiana beamed. “I have a good tutor!”
“Ahem, yes.” Elizabeth uncrossed her ankles and rose, setting the journal back on the side table. “And speaking of tutoring, I believe we have some matters of import to discuss.”
Georgiana seemed to wilt. “I was hoping to defer the accounts,” she frowned, but there was not in her air any hint of petulance. “I cannot bear…” she drew a long breath and her shoulders trembled as one who has been only recently spent in tears. “Oh, Elizabeth, must I truly do this now? I had only begun to feel myself again! May I not take some little more time?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You must see to your duty, Georgiana. These responsibilities will not vanish simply because you wish them away.”
The girl was eyeing the writing desk with open scepticism, her body language screaming out that she would rather not even be in the same room with such duties. “But they were always Fitzwilliam’s,” she objected. “I cannot possibly—”
“Did you never call him aught but ‘Fitzwilliam’?” Lydia interrupted. “What a horribly long name to use every day!”
Georgiana stared as if Lydia had suggested that the earth had suddenly captured a second moon. “Fitzwilliam was his name,” she answered stubbornly. “Why would I call him anything else?”
