Page 9 of Mrs Darcy’s Dilemma

“No; he will burn himself to death in that climate. He seems to like it, though.”

“Do you remember the bronze elephant gongs he brought the boys on his last visit home—they played with them until I thought I would lose my hearing. How happy they were! I do wish he would come again.”

“Well, he will not be here this Christmas. But we may still have the blessing of quite as many guests about us as can be desired. Well, Elizabeth, it seems that you will have your wish for a lively family party at Pemberley.”

A week before Christmas, the numbers at Pemberley were still small. The ladies sat working in Elizabeth’s sitting room, rather dully, and were grateful, at the end of a long afternoon, to discern, as something to talk about, the appearance of a carriage coming through the park and along the sweep.

“Who can it be, Mama?” asked Jane. “That is not Lady Catherine’s coach.”

“No; I do not expect her yet. Mr. Collins has still his Christmas duties to perform, and she condescendingly refuses to stir without him. It cannot be the party from Kent.”

Restless from a day spent sewing, when she preferred walking or riding, Bettina cast aside her work and stretched her long figure, craning her neck to see down the drive.

“I believe that is a hired carriage, ma’am,” she said, with interest.

“A lady is getting out, Mama, only I don’t recognize her.”

“Do sit down, my dear,” said Elizabeth, meaning that both girls should sit.

Mrs. Clarke promptly rose to her feet, her sewing still in hand. “That cannot be Sister Mary,” said she, “she would never hire a chaise. Is it—can it be? I do declare, it is Sister Lydia!”

“Never our Mama,” exclaimed Bettina and Cloe, neither very successful at concealing the horror in their voices.

Mrs. Darcy said nothing, but it struck her inwardly, with a shock, what unpleasantness Mr. Darcy, as well as herself, would inevitably have to suffer from Lydia’s visit.

“Oh, Sister Lydia!” exclaimed Mrs. Clarke. “How dare she to come here, without being bid? And where shall we put her? Not the Blue Room. She does not deserve it. You will want that room for someone in Lady Catherine’s retinue, certainly.”

“We will settle all that later, Kitty,” said Elizabeth in rather a stifled voice.

Mrs. Wickham was announced, and before the servant had finished speaking her name, she was in the room with her bandboxes and parcels, the many-coloured ribbons on her bonnet atremble, talking incessantly so that the room nearly reverberated from the noise.

Planting herself directly in front of Mrs. Darcy, she stopped short of throwing herself in her arms.

“Oh Lizzy! Dearest, dearest Sister! I could not prevent myself, indeed I could not. I was starving for a peep at my darling daughter and must needs jump into a carriage, to share in some of the Christmas-tide merry-making. I knew how my girls would be missing me.”

Cloe found her voice first. “Indeed, Mama, how can you leave the children at Christmas? And Papa—surely that was not kind, by Papa, to leave him alone?”

“Why, that’s the very thing. Papa has gone to York with his friend Bird for Christmas revels in the old quarters, and they took the little ones.

Never thinking of anything but his own pleasures, and me as forlorn as possible!

But I am not one to be left out when there is a good time to be had, am I?

And so, I came along, all in a mad whirl.

Are you all not pleased to see me? You, my sweetest, are, I am sure. ”

“Indeed, yes, Mama,” said Bettina, with no very gracious look. “Happily, Pemberley is so large my aunt can have no objection, otherwise I should think you had done a very rude thing.”

“Rude thing? Oh, my love, you joke. It is all family. We are all family here. Lizzy does not mind.”

Elizabeth controlled herself and only said, “Is that your coach, Lydia? He does not seem to be leaving. Will the horses require accommodation in the stables?”

“Oh, Lord, no! It is only a hired chaise. Have one of your men send them off at once. They have no right to expect favours from your stable men, with the price they have extracted from me. Ruinous, it was. I told him, how dare you ask so much; do you know who I am? That reminds me—it was a matter of fifteen shillings—and I unhappily did not come away with so much. Do you think, Lizzy, you might advance that on my allowance?”

“I shall have to, or see you in debtor’s prison, I collect,” said Mrs. Darcy dryly. “Jane, ring for Sykes, and tell him to take care of it, before the coachman storms up here, demanding his pay.”

“That is right!” said Lydia in satisfaction, turning away. “It is only a trifle, after all. Let us say no more about it. Oh, my dear Betty! How delightful it is to see you in such fine looks! Sure all the gentlemen hereabouts will fall in love with you. Have you made any conquests yet?”

“Mama, do not talk of conquests,” said Cloe, ashamed to look at Mrs. Darcy and Jane. “We are not here for that.”

“Are you not? Well, I hoped I’d taught you better sense, Missy, for it is the first duty of every young lady in poor circumstances to get herself married, and well married.

Do not forget that. Only look at your poor Mama, and then at your Aunt Darcy, and you will see the truth of what I am saying.

Why she looks ten years younger than me, and she is considerable older, though I was married the first. I might have a better appearance if I’d led such an easy life, for it was thought I was the handsomer to begin with, you know. ”

Even Bettina, though not of a sensitive or overdelicate temperament, was embarrassed by her mother’s observations. “Oh, Mama, don’t say such things. Aunt Darcy can’t help having married rich, and I am sure she has been kindness itself to us.”

“Well, and what else should she do, it is only right. You are her own nieces.”

“They are very welcome here,” said Mrs. Darcy, resigned to Lydia’s outrageous speeches. She might have added something about Lydia’s own appearance at Pemberley being unaccountable, but she looked at Cloe’s face and forbore.

“I must confess, Lizzy, I hope especially to see your menfolks,” Lydia continued roguishly. “I have not seen them in years; the boys have grown mighty tall, I daresay.”

“Fitzwilliam is tall, quite as tall as Mr. Darcy,” said Mrs. Clarke, since no one else seemed disposed to answer, “and a handsome young man, I can tell you. Henry is a little small man and not so well to look at as his brother.”

“Oh, Aunt Kitty, how can you say that?” said Cloe, provoked beyond endurance.

“Certainly he is not as handsome as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy the younger—at first, but the better you know him, the more pleasant his countenance becomes. I have had considerable conversation with him, and now I think him very well looking indeed.”

“Is that so! Well! It is easy enough to see how things are. I have not seen you so in love with a gentleman before, Cloe; I do assure you, Lizzy, she is not a girl who falls in love often. Take care Mr. Henry knows it, and I daresay it will be a match. Second son of such a house as this, why, that is doing very well. It is just what I hoped.”

Cloe’s face was turned away in embarrassment, and she could not reply, Jane noticed with concern. Mrs. Darcy would deign to offer no comment, but Mrs. Clarke was bridling with indignation.

“Lydia! How can you suggest such a thing! Mr. Henry could never marry one of our nieces. Why, they have no portion at all, and they are his cousins beside. Such impropriety could never be borne by the family. The Darcy pride would not tolerate it.”

“Oh, heavens, Mama, you are mistaken,” Bettina put in good-naturedly. “Cloe has no designs on Mr. Henry Darcy. You let your imagination run away with you. So meek as she is, how can you suspect her of such schemes?”

“Indeed, I think no more should be said upon this subject,” said Elizabeth, pulling the cord to summon the servant and request some refreshment for the ladies.

Fitzwilliam came in while the tea was being poured and was presented to his aunt. Lydia’s face brightened with flirtatious smiles, exactly as it had when she was a girl, among handsome young officers.

“So! This is your eldest son, Lizzy! I vow, he is even handsomer than his father—you would think it was Mr. Darcy as a young man, in the flesh, coming into the room.”

After making some slight civilities Fitzwilliam seated himself as usual beside Miss Wickham, and Lydia beamed.

“I see how it is,” she said in a loud whisper to Mrs. Clarke, “I was mistaken—it is not a match with Mr. Henry and poor Cloe that we may expect, it is a grander one. I shall look for my little Betty to be mistress of Pemberley, one fine day, that I will!”

Mrs. Clarke flushed angrily. “Indeed you must not say such things, Lydia. It is quite out of the question. How can you be so foolish, and at your age? Mr. Fitzwilliam could never marry a pauper, and Betty is as indigent a girl as there is in the kingdom and his own cousin for good measure. For shame!”

“Oh Lord! There’s no harm in that. I have seen cousins married forever—as wife of a military man, you do see some strange things, people married, and not married, all living together, as happy as possible.

There’s nothing to be said against cousins’ being married.

The children turn out neither better nor worse than anybody else’s, I can assure you, though sometimes feeble and weakly, but my lovely Betty and Mr. Fitz would have very smart, good-looking ones. ”

“Hush, Mama, they will hear you!” whispered Cloe, in an agony.

“Well, then, all to the good. It may give him some ideas and hasten on the match. I declare I am within half a minute of asking him his intentions, as is my duty as a mother.”

To this awful speech, Cloe could not reply, and Jane, in compassion for her cousin, hastily inquired if Mrs. Wickham would like to be shown her room.

“Oh, very well,” she said agreeably, “there is nothing to be gained by sitting here. I have confidence in my Betty’s pretty face, to move things forward as quickly as may be. Isn’t she handsome, niece?” she demanded, following Jane out of the room.

“Yes, very handsome.”

“She looks quite as I did as a girl, just exactly, for a wonder. You would think it was me grown young again.”

Lydia’s noisy exit from the room distracted Fitzwilliam from an account of his day’s hunting, rabbits shot and rabbits missed. “Ah! Your mother goes. She is a very good natured lady, is she not?”

Bettina looked unconvinced but answered, “Oh, she’s well enough. Mama does have a fine temper of her own. It is the more remarkable, as Papa has not always been as gentle to her as he might.”

“Infamous! I cannot hold with men who don’t treat their ladies well. If I had him here I would tell him so.”

“Would you?”

“Yes, that I would; I always say what I think. I am a blunt straightforward fellow enough, Miss Wickham, and not able to make fine speeches. My brother is the man for that—he is just fit to be a clergyman, but I assure you I am born to something else.”

“I am very glad you are not to be a clergyman, Mr. Fitzwilliam.”

“Are you indeed? You care about what happens to me, then, do you?”

“That would not be a proper sentiment for a young unmarried woman to express, would it?”

“No. I had forgot your modesty, which is perfectly tremendous. But there, that is my cursed bluntness again. My father tried to teach me more elegant manners, and I spent two terms at Oxford, you know; but it hasn’t answered, has it? I am what I am, Miss Bettina, and I make no apology.”

“No, no, I am sure you can have nothing to apologize for,” she said with a simper.

“You like me the way I am, then? I am glad of it. Oh, you smile! Tell me the meaning of that smile, can I cajole you, Miss Bettina? Or do you think I am being very foolish, and making love to you, and all that?”

“Making love is not always foolish.”

Elizabeth could not hear their conversation as she sat on the other side of the fire, but she perfectly caught its tenor, and she rose and invited the other ladies to retire upstairs and dress for dinner.