Page 59

It was late evening and Georgiana was in her private sitting room attached to her bedchamber. It was a light and airy room, painted in soft blue with navy carpeting. The curtains and furniture were made up with pink damask decorated with roses, providing a charming contrast to the blues. The setting sun sent rays of golden light through the west facing windows, making his blonde sister look like an angel.

“Are you well, Georgiana?” Darcy asked softly.

Georgiana jerked slightly at his words and looked up at him from her chair, where her quiet hands held embroidery.

“I am well, Fitzwilliam,” she replied, her expression one of a startled fawn. “I am sorry for my inattention; I was wool gathering.”

“Of what were you thinking?” Darcy asked with some trepidation. It had been an odd day and while he had enjoyed it thoroughly, he wondered if his gentle sister was somewhat overwhelmed by their new guests.

“I was thinking how pleasant the day was,” she replied, quieting his fears. “The Bennets and Miss Lucas are enjoyable visitors.”

“I am glad you think so, Georgiana. I know that you find new acquaintances challenging at times.”

“The only member of the family that I find a little unsettling is Mr. Bennet. He makes statements that sound like they mean one thing, but I believe mean another?”

“Yes, he has a satirical wit. I am sorry it makes you uncomfortable.”

“I am not uncomfortable precisely, just bewildered. I far prefer Mr. Bennet to Miss Bingley.”

Darcy blinked at this in some astonishment, “Do you? I thought you considered Miss Bingley a friend.”

Georgiana bit her lip and said nothing, though her hands began busying themselves with the embroidery.

He sat down near her and gazed at her unhappily. He loved Georgiana dearly and thought they were reasonably close, but he often did not know how to draw her out of her shell when the discussion was a difficult one.

“It is quite all right if you do not like Miss Bingley,” Darcy continued in a soft voice.

For another minute, the girl focused on the needle and thread and then she stopped and looked up.

“Miss Bingley and her sister, Mrs. Hurst, can be quite pleasant companions when they choose to be,” she said unhappily, “but they both like to gossip about other people in a thoroughly vicious way. Besides, neither of them cares about me, not truly. They merely pretend to be my friend in the hopes that you would marry Miss Bingley.”

Darcy was metaphorically rocked back on his heels. He had thought that Bingley’s sisters truly cared about his gentle sister but it was suddenly completely obvious that Georgiana was right. Both women were inveterate social climbers and, thinking back, he could not remember one true example of actual goodness in them. Miss Bingley was a consummate hostess, but that was because she wished to shine in society; she was not truly interested in the comfort and well-being of her guests.

“I am sorry, Georgiana,” he said finally. “I thought they were pleasant companions to you.”

His sister shrugged, “It does not matter a great deal, Fitzwilliam. I suppose part of being a young lady of society is learning to interact well with spiteful women.”

He nodded reluctantly, “That is true, though I wish I could shield you from such things. In any case I am thankful you enjoy the company of your new acquaintances.”

“Miss Bennet is so comfortable,” Georgiana exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I felt within a few minutes of our acquaintance that she was like an old friend, and she was wonderfully sympathetic about our mother. I know many people think I do not care about Mother since she died when I was very young, but I do miss her, Fitzwilliam.”

“I know you do, my dear,” Darcy said softly.

***

Elizabeth stood at the top of the hill some half a mile to the north of the great mansion of Pemberley. It was only ten in the morning, but the sun was already hot overhead. Mr. Darcy had offered to escort his guests to the nearby prominence to inspect Pemberley’s lands, and Elizabeth, Mary and Charlotte had leaped at the chance. Mr. Collins had accompanied them, but Mr. Bennet had chosen to sequester himself in the library while Miss Darcy was in the midst of a French lesson.

“All of this is Pemberley land?” Elizabeth inquired in awe, slowly spinning around to inspect the glorious views. To the north were vast forests, to the east and west were tidy fields with grains growing and flourishing, to the south, the mansion itself and the home farm in all its prolific glory.

“Yes,” Darcy stated with pride in his voice. “Pemberley’s land extends in all directions, and the deer park itself is some 600 acres. There are also dozens of tenants who lease their land from the estate.”

“Do you intend to marry your cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh?” Mr. Collins inquired curiously.

Mary Bennet choked in astonishment at this impertinent question while Miss Lucas looked slightly taken aback and Miss Elizabeth amused.

“No, I do not,” Darcy said after a moment to collect himself. Such a question was entirely improper, but Mr. Collins obviously did not mean to cause offense.

Collins heaved a gusty sigh, “I am most relieved to hear that, Mr. Darcy. My belief is that Pemberley is actually too large at present. You are managing it very dexterously, but you are a highly intelligent and diligent man. I find it doubtful that your hypothetical son will do as well. When I contemplate the joining of Rosings and Pemberley, one estate in Kent and the other in Derbyshire, my heart misgives me.”

“There are excellent stewards,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Mr. Darcy would not need to live at Rosings, or Pemberley for that matter.”

“It is not quite the same,” Collins replied with a disapproving shake of the head. “Furthermore, Miss de Bourgh is a fragile woman. She really ought not to attempt to bear children, at least until her health improves significantly.”

Darcy winced at this comment and then his eyes fell on Miss Elizabeth. Her eyes were flashing, not with outrage, but with humor. She smiled at him and he back at her, and he relaxed.

“I do not know what my cousin’s future marriage plans are,” Darcy said in a repressive tone, “but I have no intention of wedding her in order to unite the estates. As you say, Pemberley is quite enough for me.”

“Longbourn, of course, is a far smaller estate,” Miss Lucas said quietly. “Mr. Collins, perhaps you would care to ask your cousins about some of the details of the Longbourn tenantry? Unless, that is, you understand all the myriad issues already.”

“No, no, Miss Lucas, you are quite right. Miss Bennet, Miss Mary, can you tell me whether the tenants use the Tullian drill? And are the leases long or short? Or a mixture of the two?”

***

Mr. Bennet walked quietly down the hall, his usually staid heart thumping in anticipation. He had spent much of yesterday wandering the library of Pemberley, so overwhelmed at the number of books that he found himself flitting from one section to another without settling on any book in particular. This morning, he had woken early while the sun was just peeping above the horizon. Breakfast was several hours away, and Mr. Bennet intended to use those hours to read one of the rare books on the man’s shelves.

He smiled as he stepped into the great room and glanced around its walls, all fitted from floor to ceiling with shelves containing books from across the ages. He had been prepared for a magnificent collection based on Mr. Collins’s raptures, but Mr. Darcy’s library was even more incredible than he had imagined.

There was a soft sob from near the window and Bennet froze in astonishment and distress. He was not alone! Furthermore, the sob was that of a woman, which meant he was in the presence of a distressed female. Was it not enough that he lived with, and was married to, an often distressed female? Surely it was too much that he had come across some hapless maid, no doubt crying over her betrayal by a stable boy.

He took a backwards step, intending to flee, when a feminine form stepped into view from behind a column and his eyes widened.

“Mary?”

“Father,” Mary replied, quickly wiping down her cheeks with a sodden handkerchief. “I am sorry, Father. I woke up early and could not bear to stay in bed. The library is so beautiful.”

Indolence battled with duty and somewhat to Bennet’s surprise, duty won.

“Come here, my dear,” he invited, reversing course and walking over to a red couch. He beckoned to his third daughter, who nervously joined him. “Come, sit down and tell me what is wrong.”

Mary sat down obediently and wrung her damp handkerchief in her hands, her face a mask of misery. Bennet waited patiently; Mary, at least, was not prone to hysterics, and thus something of great import must have happened though he could not imagine what.

“I do not wish to marry Mr. Collins,” she finally whispered.

“Then you need not,” Mr. Bennet replied in surprise. “I thought that was entirely clear, Mary. The purpose of the trip to Pemberley was to determine whether you and Mr. Collins are compatible; that and it was an opportunity to enjoy this truly splendid library. This room alone is worth the trip.”

This provoked a watery chuckle and Mary lifted her face to his, “Mother told me I must do everything possible to win an offer from Mr. Collins.”

“Your mother,” he began sharply, and then softened his tone at Mary’s startled look, “your mother is afraid, but she need not be. Mr. Bingley and Jane are now married and Mr. Bingley is a kind and generous man. If I were to die today, overcome by the glories of this vast array of books, you would be well cared for. But your mother has agonized so long about the entail that it is a habit with her.”

“It is more than that, Father. She wishes to stay at Longbourn after you ... you …”

“Mary, if it will help, I will inform your mother that I realized that you and Mr. Collins are incompatible. You are under age and thus must win my approval for such a match, and I forbid it.”

Mary’s face smoothed into calm and she relaxed, “And do you really believe that Mr. Collins and I are incompatible, Father? Or would that merely be a small deception to protect me from Mother’s wrath?”

Bennet shook his head, “You truly are not well suited. You are a studious and hard-working young woman, Mary, but you are still but nineteen. Mr. Collins is a remarkably complex individual with some significant peculiarities.”

“That is exactly it, Father! He is so odd. I understand that he is brilliant but he says things that are quite unnerving, even insulting, and I do not know how to respond, much less smooth over any conversational hurdles. Yesterday, when we went out to look over the estate, he said the most incredible things to Mr. Darcy, right in our presence. Both Charlotte and Lizzy were entirely calm, but I was mortified! Charlotte managed to turn the conversation most gracefully but I do not know how to do such a thing without causing offense.”

“Charlotte Lucas is eight years your senior, and thus has a great deal more experience with life. Be at peace, my dear. I would far rather you be happy and comfortable in your marriage than to be coping with a difficult husband, and Mr. Collins will be difficult in some respects. I appreciate him a great deal, but he is not a conventional man.”

“Do you think he will realize that I do not wish to marry him? I will feel very uncomfortable if he actually asks for my hand and I deny him. Mother will almost certainly find out …”

“No, no, no. That would not do at all. I think we need a more direct approach.”

***

Elizabeth took a bite of toast, swallowed it, and declared, “Mr. Collins, you are no doubt correct that the four course system of farm land management is preferable. It is important, however, to be patient with the tenantry. These are people, not merely living minds. They have their own prejudices, their own habits, their own, dare I say, peculiarities. Several of our older tenants insist on clinging to what they learned from their forebears, and for my father to insist on changes would be counterproductive.”

Mr. Collins sighed, “It seems so foolish to me, Cousin Elizabeth, when the science is so clearly in favor of sowing clover instead of letting the soil lie fallow for a year. What think you, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy, who had been gazing at Elizabeth’s lovely profile, coughed slightly and pulled his muddled wits together.

“I agree with Miss Bennet,” he said gravely. “While scientific progress is admirable, we must keep in mind the needs of the tenant. Perhaps it is best for all if the master of the estate is up to date on scientific advancements and thus he can facilitate improvement as the tenants become open to it.”

Elizabeth rewarded him with a grateful smile and then turned toward the door as Mr. Bennet and Mary walked inside the dining room.

Darcy and Mr. Collins rose to their feet and bowed.

“Miss Mary, Mr. Bennet,” Darcy said politely. “I hope you are both well this morning?”

“We are well indeed,” Mr. Bennet responded with equal courtesy. “Now, before we sit down to break our fast, Mary has something to say to Mr. Collins.”

All turned their attention on Mary, who in turn spoke nervously to Mr. Collins, “Mr. Collins, my father and I discussed the matter this morning, and we have concluded that I am not suited to be your wife. I wish you to know that.”

Collins blinked at her, then nodded, “Thank you, Miss Mary. I appreciate your honesty. Miss Lucas?”

“Yes, Mr. Collins?” Charlotte Lucas returned, putting down her fork and devoting her full attention to the brilliant clergyman.

“Would you be willing to be my wife?”

“Yes, Mr. Collins, I would be honored.”

“Thank you, Miss Lucas. I believe we will suit very well. May I please have some more tea?”