Page 68 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

“No, Mama! I would rather have you happy than all the consequence of moving in their circles.”

“Do not fret, Lizzy. George is to speak privately to Lord Matlock before the announcement is made to Lady Catherine and our other guests. He is certain of the Earl’s support.”

“I have inherited your nerves, Mama, for I shall not rest easy until we all are toasting your and Mr. Darcy’s felicity.”

Mama was looking at me with a seriousness that seemed out of place—surely, she was not overly worried about Lord and Lady Matlock’s acceptance of her marriage? Mrs. Bennet was a gentleman’s widow, an estate owner in her own right. She and Mr. Darcy were equal in rank; her eldest daughter was respectably married; her second daughter already accepted by Mr. Darcy’s family. Certainly, Mama could introduce Georgiana into society, initially in Derbyshire, and then in London.

The silence stretched on, as though she were gathering her courage. “When I marry, Fitzwilliam and you will be brother and sister,” she said, her voice a little too soft.

“Isn’t it wonderful—I already feel like a sister to him. He is the best of brothers! We have such a lovely time together.”

“Oh dear, this will be more difficult than I thought—oh, what to say?” Mama brushed a curl away from my face.

“Mama, there is nothing to be afraid of. Already I think of Georgiana as my sister, and Fitzwilliam as my brother. Why, only this evening both of them kissed me good night, just as a brother and sister should.”

“Lizzy, did you enjoy Colonel Fitzwilliam’s company?”

“Of course, he’s so easy to talk to, with such a wry sense of humour. Oh, you recall my joke this evening—I’m so sorry, I did not mean to imply I wished to marry him. No, he must marry a wealthy woman in her own right, not dependent on an inheritance. But, in the Lakes, we had such fun, he’s a great tease.”

“And, would you have flirted and teased him if he were married? He would be the same man, the same amiable and humorous temper.”

“Of course not, Mama! That would be wrong—it would be highly improper for an unmarried woman to encourage a married man with such behaviour. It could lead to scandal, certainly compromise my reputation.” Where was this discourse leading?

Once again, she took my hands, rubbing my palm with her thumb. “A young woman can flirt,” Mama continued, “under the eye of a chaperone, because it is deemed part of courtship. She and her beau discover whether they suit, that their tempers match, that they have sufficient interests in common to at least remain civil of an evening together. And if their attentions were to proceed too far—an indiscretion, perhaps—then they can enter an engagement or an official courtship. If they did suit, and a settlement agreed, they would likely marry. Not all such courtships reached the altar, and either person could end it after a respectable period of time, with no loss of reputation to either party.”

“But the Colonel and I were always proper. There was never anything for you to be concerned about.”

“Please, Lizzy, bear with me just a moment. Finding the correct words is as difficult as pronouncing those in your Papa’s monographs.” She paused, taking a slow breath. “Can siblings marry? Could a brother marry his sister?”

“Mama, what a strange notion. It is incest, against God’s law—no, never!”

“But siblings tease—as surely as Fitzwilliam and Georgiana tease, hold hands, and kiss each other’s cheek.”

“Of course, it is the joy of being brother and sister.”

“I’m so sorry, but there is more to consider. Georgiana and Fitzwilliam are related by blood, their consanguinity almost as close as parent and child. They could never marry—as you said, it would be an offence against God. But you, Lizzy, and Fitzwilliam share no blood ties—there can be no objection to your marrying on grounds of consanguinity. Yet, once Mr. Darcy and I marry, you become, under law, brother and sister—not by blood, but by affinity.”

I felt suddenly weak; why, I could not say. “Please continue, Mama, I suspect you and Mr. Darcy have thought long over this.”

“Oh, dearest, we love you so very much. But there is no avoiding it: you must stop teasing Fitzwilliam, you cannot hold hands, you cannot embrace him, certainly not kiss him, even on the cheek or forehead. Because you can never marry, such behaviour would be seen as though you were flirting with a married man—society will see it as such.”

I found I did not understand her, that I did not wish to understand. Fitzwilliam was my brother, of that there was no doubt. Yet, could I not tease him? Could we not joke about trips to Greece during the hot summer months?

Lydia hugged me ever so closely. ‘Can I still poke out my tongue at him, Lizzy?’

‘I had begun to think of him as beautiful, but, I suppose, he must remain comely,’ murmured Mary, tears in her eyes.

‘I shall sketch him as you leant into his shoulder on Scawfell Pike—a moment I shall always treasure.’ Kitty turned away; there was little else to be said.

“Of course, Mama, you shall be proud of me.” She embraced me, helped me climb under the coverlets, then quietly closed the door, returning to her own chamber.

Did I dissemble?—not at all. Certainly, I had come to enjoy an easy intimacy with Darcy; but that was in the past, I must leave it behind. But was it truly so—was the warmth I felt in Fitzwilliam’s company now forbidden, our amity suddenly suspect? I pressed my hands to my cheeks, hot with the memory of his kiss just this evening. Had I been thoughtless? Had my joy in his company risked not only my own reputation but Mama’s happiness? I resolved to guard my conduct—to be circumspect, reserved.

* * *

Chapter 27

Pemberley