Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (6 page)

Silence fell at last, and neither seemed disposed to break it. Whatever Miss Bennet might have thought Darcy could not tell, but for his part he had begun to feel more than a little guilty for his earlier display of temper, and no less for having had to learn from a third party about Georgiana’s fears.

He should have guessed them. He should have known without being told that she would be plagued by the same foreboding. He had experienced it himself several years ago and, truth be told, it had not fully left him. The proverbial Darcy reluctance to pander to dull crowds must have been passed down in their blood.

He should have seen that Georgiana’s shyness would make her feel the discomfort even more acutely. But, in his defence, he had not expected the issue to come up so soon. She was so very young! Surely there was plenty of time until they had to consider her entry into society, leaving Pemberley, leaving him…

Unthinkingly, he voiced his thoughts aloud, in an unconscious attempt at both defence and reassurance, for himself as well as his absent sister.

“She need not fret. Her coming-out is very distant. She is fifteen, a mere child.”

To his vast surprise, a small hand was laid comfortingly on his sleeve and he looked up to meet Miss Bennet’s glance, settled upon him with none of the earlier governess-like censure, but with something very much like warm understanding.

“My father used to say that a man’s heart was more his own when he had no daughters, but the poorer for it. I suppose the same can be said of younger sisters,” she observed softly. He made no reply but a half-smile, and she continued, “Aye, Miss Darcy is full young, but ‘tis not so very long until she is sufficiently grown up to go out into the world, find her place, form an attachment. You should prepare yourself for it, Sir, or it will break your heart. As it would to discover she is so much in awe of you that she cannot disclose her feelings until there is a suitor on your doorstep, coming to ask for her hand in marriage. I hope you will not take further offence at my forthrightness,” she added as an afterthought and at that, Darcy surprised himself with a rueful chuckle.

“I will not,” he said at last. “Your father was very wise, Miss Bennet, as are you. Wise beyond your years.”

“I thank you. ‘Tis kind of you to say so.”

“Now,” he resumed in a suddenly jocular manner, “within a terribly short time I have discovered you are also kind and cheerful, exceptionally well-read, fiercely independent and exceedingly outspoken. So, before I find myself shocked by further revelations and as a result disgrace myself with another fit of passion, pray tell me, what else
are
you?”

She laughed lightly in response, a most becoming sparkle in her eyes.

“Much as I would like to sum myself up in a satisfactory manner, Sir, I cannot find the words to suit the purpose. I could use other people’s words, but they might be misleading, so I fear you must find another way to settle the hopeless business. All I can say is that thanks to the kindness I have uniformly found at Pemberley I feel myself quite restored to Elizabeth Bennet, with all that it implies. For better or worse. I trust none of us will come to regret it,” she playfully concluded, her manner an admixture of diffidence and archness which Darcy found pleasing and also rather touching.

Equally touching was her appreciation of the kindness she had been shown at Pemberley. It was good to know that, after everything she had endured, Pemberley was the safe haven that had allowed her to feel at ease again. He ought to foster that, and he intended to.

Admittedly it was not his way to encourage such freedom of address. While a considerate master, he had uniformly maintained the natural distance between himself and the people in his household, with the sole exception of Mrs Reynolds, who had known him since he was unbreeched. But then they always said that the position of the paid companion, and likewise the governess, was in the marshy middle ground. Above the servants, yet below the family. She was not part of the family of course, but it would do no harm to treat her with kindness. Which was why, at least on this occasion, he saw fit to indulge her with a matching retort:

“Regret it? Why? Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet such a fearsome creature?”

“Perhaps not fearsome, but far too outspoken for her own good, as she has been repeatedly reminded. Speaking of which, Sir, I find I rather value my position here. Should my forthrightness become rather too difficult to handle, pray say so before we reach the point of no return.”

“Be assured I shall. For now though, pray rest easy, I can handle a little forthrightness. I am known to favour the unvarnished truth over obsequious fawning. Though perhaps your truths could be delivered with just a hint of varnishing,” he good-naturedly quipped, and she laughed, but also blushed.

“This I have also been told. I shall endeavour to apply myself to the task, Sir.”

“Pray do, Miss Bennet, and we might get along tolerably well,” he smiled, offering his arm.

She took it, and they returned at a slow pace to the house.

CHAPTER 6

The following weeks saw the establishing of patterns, and Darcy easily fell into his own. There was a vast deal at Pemberley that required his attention and long conferences with his steward or riding out to attend to the concerns of the great estate filled most of his morning hours. As for the young ladies, they resumed their occupations, and gradually Darcy was occasioned to learn more about their daily pursuits, and thus about Miss Bennet.

Apparently she had not only encouraged Georgiana to read extensively and practise her drawing and her music, but also show more interest in the housekeeper’s domain. This was a surprise for Darcy and no less of a pleasure, for such skills would stand her in good stead when she was older. To date, mundane tasks such as choosing menus had been within Mrs Reynolds’ remit, with little or no contribution from his sister, but lately she had begun to ask him about his preferences and confer with the elderly lady as to how they could be met.

Likewise, at Miss Bennet’s instigation, the young ladies spent many hours not on decorative embroidery, but on sewing tiny garments intended for the poorest children of the parish. Miss Bradden, the new parson’s sister, regularly joined them in that particular activity. Darcy soon learned that although Georgiana and her companion had kept themselves to themselves at Pemberley in his absence and had not entertained acquaintances, nor ventured further than Kympton Church or Lambton, Miss Bradden was an established visitor to the great house. She came to call every Tuesday and Thursday, and the ladies would sit and knit or sew together.

Miss Bradden was very plain and Darcy found it difficult to tell if she was younger or older than her brother, but she was clearly determined to assist him in his duties. Whether or not she was also determined to assist him in establishing an interest with Miss Bennet was equally hard to tell. For his part, Darcy could not claim to have seen much sign of it, other than the lady often speaking of her brother with a great deal of praise and obvious affection.

He conceded it was natural that it should be so. He was her protector and provider and her sole surviving relation. Moreover, Darcy had long determined that the man was well worthy of praise. Bradden did not call at Pemberley often and when he did, it was mostly to see him rather than the ladies, and discuss the manifold concerns of the parish. So perhaps he need not worry yet that Georgiana might lose her companion to the Braddens. There seemed to be no imminent likelihood of Miss Bennet becoming Mrs Bradden. Perhaps if matters were allowed to take their course, one day she would, and Darcy eventually acknowledged it might not be such a bad thing after all. Bradden was a very decent man. Miss Bennet could scarcely do much better.

Nevertheless, it was reassuring to know it would not happen for some time, if ever. Georgiana was not ready to relinquish her and, truth be told, neither was he. Having gone past their rather tempestuous differences of opinion, he found he could not truly fault her. She was a welcome influence on Georgiana in many ways, and an equally welcome addition to the household. Conversation flowed easier at the dinner table, much easier than in the days when Darcy and his sister used to dine alone, when she was conveyed home from Mrs Rossiter’s school on Sundays. Those days it was Fitzwilliam who kept the conversation going whenever he came to call, which was very often if he could be spared from his duties. Now his role was seamlessly fulfilled by Miss Bennet and, Darcy chortled to himself, she could play and sing considerably better too.

Surprisingly, she was quite as apt as Fitzwilliam to hold her own at the chessboard. Darcy had discovered this by accident one evening, when he had consented to indulge Miss Bennet with a game expecting an easy win, as was the case with Georgiana, only to find himself losing to a very skilled opponent.

“Pray allow me to guess,” he casually observed as he set the pieces for a rematch. “This is another art you have perfected at your father’s knee.”

“So it is, Sir,” she smiled back.

“A remarkable gentleman, your father. I should have liked to make his acquaintance.”

“I daresay you would have enjoyed each other’s company,” she evenly replied, but said nothing further. Instead, she applied herself to thoroughly slaughtering his army for a second time.

Since then it had become a habit to have a game or two in the evenings, while Georgiana played on the pianoforte, and afterwards talk about everything and nothing, from their daily pursuits to the progress along the reading list. They discussed the recently read books in great detail, and Darcy could not be anything but pleased with Georgiana’s sensible remarks and Miss Bennet’s keen judgement.

On a few occasions their debates continued late into the night, long after Georgiana had retired, and it was a novel experience for Darcy to find in her as incisive an observer as Fitzwilliam – or himself. Once or twice he had even found it entertaining to argue the opposite and unreasonable point, just to see what her response would be. Predictably, she remained a stranger to the manner of compliant and malleable young women and did not change her stance, but showed herself verily horrified that he would argue such an untenable position. That is, until she understood his game and broke off mid-sentence to lean back and shake her head in mock despair, brows arched and lips pursed in unconcealed amusement.

As he closeted himself in his study in the mornings or rode away wherever his duties took him, Darcy found that he was looking forward to joining the young ladies in the evenings, and sometimes for a mid-day cup of tea.

They still saw little of their neighbours, although Darcy had rather grudgingly acknowledged Miss Bennet’s point. It might be to Georgiana’s advantage to become accustomed with moving in society more. But, to begin with, paying the odd morning call or accepting occasional dinner invitations would have to suffice. She was reluctant to do more, and he would not force her.

Perhaps it would be easier when Lord Vernon returned from his Hampshire estates. His daughters were very close in age to Georgiana and she had enjoyed their company in the past. Or perhaps their cousin Amelia could be asked to come and stay. And of course there would be a vast number of guests expected for Christmas, as there always were.

For now, they were quiet and content at Pemberley with their peaceable pursuits that drew them to the library or the music room, and often on long walks. Neither of the young ladies ventured abroad unescorted – that old bone of contention had not emerged again. Sometimes Darcy chose to join them in their explorations, other times they walked with one of the footmen or the grooms, and it was only when they undertook to keep to the gardens or stroll around the lake that the escort requirement was waived.

One day, on their return from their long lakeside amble, they told Darcy that they had come across a most unusual structure in a glade, a little further uphill from the far end of the lake.

“It seemed to be some sort of shelter fashioned from large branches and very old rope,” Georgiana added, and Darcy looked up in some surprise.

“Oh. Is it still standing, then?”

“Very much so. What is it, Brother?”

“A den that Fitzwilliam and I built a long time ago, when we were seeking to re-enact the myth of the Noble Savage and Mr Defoe’s writings.”

Also the spot where his cousin – the only one who knew where to look – had found him hiding, knees huddled to his chest, the day after his mother’s passing. They had abandoned their den after that. The recollections were no longer happy ones.

Perhaps, when the time came, he would have it rebuilt for his sons and efface old memories with new ones. Or perhaps let them build another elsewhere. A clean slate – a fresh start.

“Mr Defoe’s? Which writings would they be?”

Lost in his thoughts, Darcy missed his sister’s question. It was Miss Bennet who replied.

“
The Life and Strange Adventures of Robinson Crusoe
, I should imagine. A tale of shipwrecks, desert islands, cannibals and pirates,” she elaborated for her young friend’s benefit.

“Strange adventures indeed,” Georgiana observed. “Perhaps too strange for me. I have not come across it in the library, but with so many books…”

“You could not have,” Darcy rejoined the conversation. “We left it in the woods one day, only to find it soaked and ruined after a rainy night. Father was not best pleased.”

“Neither was my mother at my reading it,” Miss Bennet cheerfully retorted, “or for that matter all the other books that caused knights and pirates to rampage through our gardens. I fear I had encouraged my sisters in all manner of rambunctious pursuits.”

“I would not have pictured you for a tomboy, Lizzy,” Georgiana replied with a smile.

Darcy concealed his. He could, with no effort whatsoever.

“Yet so I was, at least until the ripe old age of twelve. Presumably the nearest my father ever had for a son. Still, eventually he had to reconcile himself with having five daughters. I was still allowed to read whatever came to hand, but fencing with sticks and besieging the hermitage had to give way to more ladylike pursuits.”

Despite himself, Darcy’s smile widened. Mr and Mrs Bennet must have had their hands full.

“Speaking of more ladylike pursuits,” Georgiana mused, “your old den would make a very pretty spot for reading or drawing, I imagine. I have never sketched the lake from that angle and I would dearly like to try. Could we not fill the gaps in the roof with thatch or fir branches or something of that nature? It might come in handy if we are caught in the rain.”

“If you wish, dearest. I will ask Davies to send someone up.”

“Would you like to walk with us when we return there with our sketchbooks? We were thinking of going later this afternoon.”

“Another day perhaps,” Darcy replied evasively, not quite prepared to tread on old paths yet.

Nevertheless, a few hours later he found himself doing precisely that. It was a long walk to the far end of the lake, long enough for him to allow free rein to very distant recollections. Lady Anne’s warm laughter as she guided Georgiana’s first tottering steps. The sound of her voice, all but forgotten, as she read to him of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Sunlight glinting in her hair as she sat in a window seat, weak and frail, not many months before her passing…

Darcy closed his mind to the latter recollection and sought others. Fitzwilliam roaring with laughter when he saw him lose his footing and fall into the lake, just on this very spot – at least until he scrambled out, dripping with muddy water, to give chase and wrestle his cousin to the ground into a heap of flailing limbs. The log where they used to sit, munching on bread and hunks of meat and cheese and sometimes sweet treats pilfered from the kitchens. The thick branch overhanging the water, from which they used to swing on a rope and willingly or accidentally drop into the lake.

The den could not be far now – and indeed it was not. Another twist in the muddy path and the tall reeds were no longer obscuring the view of the sloping bank before him. The den was a dark shape leaning against a towering lime tree, but it was the brighter spots of colour that drew his attention. Wrapped in their shawls and spencers, the young ladies were sitting together on a rug, surrounded by the halo of beeches clad in their autumnal garb of burnished amber. Bonnets were carelessly abandoned and golden tresses shone alongside warm auburn ones, as they both sat intent upon their sketchbooks.

Miss Bennet glanced up first and spotted him, and her hand flew to her lips in a rather odd request for silence – that is, until Darcy noticed the ball of fur rustling in the leaves. They were both seeking to sketch the intrepid squirrel that had ventured close, an acorn in its grasp, but with a flash of russet the object of their rapt attention literally turned tail – and a long and very pretty tail it was – dashed to the nearest tree and vanished out of sight into the foliage.

“Oh dear. I seem to have scared your model away,” Darcy smilingly offered. “Am I still allowed to join you or must I do penance at a distance?”

“Hm… Let me see,” Georgiana pouted in delightful mock deliberation.

“I bring gifts,” he added, a willing partner in her childish game, and offered the small basket that Mrs Reynolds had more or less thrust upon him. There was a small flask in it, wrapped in a chequered cloth, and some rich fruitcake. His sister’s eyes widened.

“Brandy?”

“Good heavens, no. Tea, Georgiana, tea! I have not taken leave of my senses yet to ply the pair of you with brandy, and it would be a strange accompaniment to fruitcake anyway. Mrs Reynolds sent it. She thought you might like some sustenance and a warming drink,” he explained, producing three cups from the bottom of the basket.

Giggling, Georgiana shuffled closer to her companion to make room on the rug for him and they sat together, nibbling on fruitcake and warming their hands on their full cups.

“Are you ready to walk back?” Darcy inquired when the fruitcake was gone and the small flask was empty, but Georgiana shook her head.

“Not yet, if you do not mind. I would like to work a little further on my landscape. What say you, Lizzy? Or are you getting cold?”

“Not at all”, Miss Bennet negatived, and Darcy stood.

“Very well. Then I shall have a look at the den instead. So, you would like it watertight, would you?”