Page 4 of Regrets

Mrs. Jenkinson only shrugged and looked away.

Georgiana’s first impulse was to simply acquiesce. There was no point in making difficulties, was there? She began to apologise. “I am sorry, Mrs. Jenkinson; I did not think anyone would be worried.”

Mrs. Jenkinson looked pleased, and she nodded. “Very well, Miss Darcy.”

But suddenly Georgiana began to feel rather uneasy. Was Anne watched this closely all the time? And did that mean that Georgiana’s every move would be scrutinized as well? If that was the case, being at Rosings might be downright intolerable!

No, this would never do. She took a deep breath and did her best to keep her voice from shaking as she added, “But you need not fear in the future, Mrs. Jenkinson. Anne will be spending a good deal of time with me while I am here, and I will make certain that she is safe.”

Anne looked from Mrs. Jenkinson to Georgiana and back again, and then the merest beginning of a smile touched her lips.

Georgiana felt encouraged by that smile, so she continued, raising her chin. “In fact, might we be left alone for a time now, Mrs. Jenkinson? Anne and I have not seen one another for some years, and I think we would prefer to speak in private.”

Both Anne and Mrs. Jenkinson stared at Georgiana in astonishment. Mrs. Jenkinson looked to Anne, and Anne surprised everyone in the room by saying, “Yes, please, Mrs. Jenkinson.”

Mrs. Jenkinson’s brows rose to her hairline, and she left the room slowly, muttering to herself.

Georgiana felt immensely proud of herself. She had been astonishingly bold, to have spoken to Mrs. Jenkinson in such a manner. Her heart was still pounding hard.

But Anne was worried. “Oh, dear,” she said, wringing her hands. “She will tell Mother that I asked her to leave!”

“Is that such a dreadful thing, Anne?” Georgiana asked. “Surely it is not at all unreasonable for the two of us to wish to speak together without Mrs. Jenkinson listening to every word!”

“That is not how Mother will view it,” Anne whispered. “She will wonder what the two of us have to say that Mrs. Jenkinson may not overhear!”

Georgiana considered this. “Well,” she said. “I do not have any friends of my own sex, but I believe it is common enough for young ladies to whisper and giggle together. Or so the novels I have read tell me.”

“I am not permitted to read novels,” Anne said. “They are bad for my moral character.”

Georgiana began to wonder if coming to Rosings Park for the summer had been such a good idea, after all.

***

That night at dinner, Georgiana sat through what felt like an interminable number of courses; but doubtless this was in honour of her brother, for surely the de Bourghs did not dine so very formally every evening. She whispered her supposition to her brother, who sighed and whispered back, “I fear this is Aunt Catherine’s standard fare.”

Aunt Catherine raised her eyes and stared down the table at Georgiana, “Had you a question, my dear?”

Georgiana, now uncomfortable, said, “I was merely asking my brother if the household dines so formally every evening.”

“Ah. We do, yes, as it is important for us to maintain our standards.”

“Standards?” Georgiana was bewildered.

“Yes; such is expected of us.”

“But by whom?” Georgiana was now even more puzzled.

“Why, everyone,” her aunt replied, as if this were entirely self-evident. “The neighbours, the townsfolk, the world at large. We are the epitome of society, here in our little corner of England, and it is up to us to point the way, to show others how things are done properly.”

Georgiana could not help but observe that there was no one here to see how things were properly done, unless one counted the servants! She opened her mouth to say so, but a slight movement to her left stopped her. It was her brother, ever so slightly shaking his head at her.

After the meal was finally over, and everyone had repaired to the formal drawing room – as there was no point in Mr. Darcy sitting alone at the table after the ladies had left it – Aunt Catherine announced, “There is little that I enjoy as much as music; Georgiana will play for us.”

‘I will?’ Georgiana thought, but she obediently went to the pianoforte and rifled through the available music. She selected a few pieces and sat down to play. After a few moments, she could hear voices behind her; she understood at once that Aunt Catherine might claim to enjoy music, but she could not sit silently and actually listen to it. The music merely formed a backdrop for whatever conversation her ladyship wished to conduct. This was certainly not the first time Georgiana had encountered this situation, but she still could not understand it. Was not music more important than conversation?

When she finished her two pieces, she rose and sat beside Anne on the sofa. Mrs. Jenkinson sat on Anne’s other side, and was insisting that Anne put on another shawl so that she might not catch cold, while Anne protested that the room was quite warm.

Georgiana decided that there was nothing to be lost at this point, so she said, rather loudly, “Mrs. Jenkinson, do you not think that Anne is capable of knowing when she requires a shawl?”