Page 36 of Return to Pemberley
Chapter fifteen
A Test of Character
T he afternoon at Pemberley was as fine a specimen of English domestic tranquility as ever the house could boast. The air, though touched by autumn's first whisper, was yet soft and bright enough to justify the open windows, through which the sounds of the distant lake—geese scolding, water lapping at stones—competed amiably with the more cultivated harmonies of the drawing room.
Here, seated in a high-backed chair with the sun laying a warm, dappled hand upon her shoulder, Elizabeth was engaged in that most ambiguous of occupations: embroidery.
It was not, strictly speaking, a work of necessity—the coverlet to which she applied her needle was already abundantly flowered—but the rhythm of thread and the small, subversive pleasure of inventing new patterns where only daisies had been ordered provided a satisfaction the strictest utilitarian would find difficult to censure.
Opposite her, at the elegant pianoforte, Georgiana played through a series of selections with the methodical focus of one determined not to give even the smallest measure of scandal to the great composers.
Her hands moved with caution so elaborate as to border on reverence, and if the occasional wrong note made its timid appearance, it was instantly banished by a blush and redoubled effort.
It was, in short, the sort of hour to which Elizabeth had not so long ago aspired in the secret annals of her hopes: a house at peace, her own mind engaged in quiet invention, and the presence of another with whom she might share the burdens and amusements of the day.
The serenity was so nearly perfect that Elizabeth, never given to excessive optimism, found herself growing suspicious.
She looked up from her needle and gazed at Georgiana, whose profile—grave, intent, the brow smoothed into concentration—reminded her irresistibly of Darcy at his morning tasks.
The comparison gave her a moment's wry amusement, quickly stifled when Georgiana, sensing the scrutiny, looked up and caught Elizabeth's eye.
"Do I disturb you, Elizabeth?" asked Georgiana, her voice carrying that peculiar gentleness which suggested she might apologize for drawing breath too loudly.
"Not at all, my dear. I was thinking how pleasant it is to have music in the house at this hour. It puts me in mind of happier times at Longbourn—though I confess none of my sisters ever practised with such devotion. Mary's dedication was admirable, but her execution rather less so."
A faint smile touched Georgiana's lips, though she appeared both gratified and uncertain whether to acknowledge the compliment.
"I am grateful it pleases you. I confess I find it easier to play when I need not fear every note being weighed and found wanting.
At Rosings, Lady Catherine's scrutiny was so constant I sometimes felt the very keys might report my inadequacies to her directly. "
Elizabeth laughed—a sound that, in this room, was as much ornament as the plasterwork.
"Lady Catherine is indeed a most accomplished critic, though her preferred instrument is speech rather than the pianoforte.
She permits neither false notes nor rests in conversation, and commands every performance with admirable authority. "
This drew from Georgiana a nervous smile, quickly suppressed, and Elizabeth was about to return her attention to the coverlet when a change in the household's rhythm—so subtle it might escape any but a mistress attuned to her domain's undercurrents—arrested her hand.
It was the sound of rapid footsteps on the main corridor: not the measured stride of a servant on errand, nor the uneven scuffle of the postman, but something urgent yet restrained, as if the bearer of news doubted whether it would be welcomed.
The suspense was brief. The drawing room doors opened—not with measured discretion appropriate to the hour, but with velocity suggesting imminent disaster. In the aperture stood the first footman, his usually impassive face drawn into something like alarm.
"Ma'am—Miss Darcy—" he began, then, as if the next words required confirmation, swallowed and delivered them in a rush. "Lady Catherine de Bourgh is arrived and has commanded to be shown in directly."
The effect was instantaneous. Georgiana's fingers froze upon the keys, the echo of the last chord lingering with all the poignancy of unresolved tension. Elizabeth merely set aside her embroidery and rose, smoothing her dress in a gesture suggesting both resignation and readiness.
"Thank you, Thomas. Please see that Lady Catherine's coachman is offered refreshment, and inform Mrs. Reynolds of our guest's arrival.
" The instructions were delivered with calm so pronounced as to suggest that unannounced visits from formidable relations were commonplace, perhaps even welcome.
The footman, relieved of further explanation, bowed and withdrew, leaving silence so absolute that even the birds seemed to await the sequel.
Georgiana, several shades paler, looked at Elizabeth with something approaching desperation. "Oh, Elizabeth, what are we to do? I am certain she comes with some terrible purpose."
Elizabeth smiled with equal parts reassurance and mischief.
"We shall do as we always must, dearest: meet trouble as it presents itself, and trust that Lady Catherine's devotion to her own opinions will exceed her attention to our defects.
Pray continue your music if it steadies your nerves—I find courage is much like a fine melody, better maintained than recovered. "
Georgiana nodded but made no move toward the instrument, remaining seated with hands folded, her gaze fixed upon the middle distance as if summoning fortification from unseen sources.
The wait proved brief. A rustling of silk forcibly subdued and the staccato tap of a cane against marble announced their visitor's approach.
Without awaiting introduction—indeed, before the footman could complete his discreet cough—Lady Catherine de Bourgh entered with a manner proclaiming both the superiority of her lineage and the urgency of her mission.
She was dressed in purple so uncompromising as to render all other colors subsidiary, her hair arranged in a style so rigidly architectural that nothing short of hurricane could have disordered it, and her features bore the unmistakable stamp of a woman who had rehearsed her outrage en route and meant to discharge it with full effect.
She did not pause for survey or civilities. Instead, she advanced three steps into the room, planted her cane with force enough to leave a divot in the parquet, and addressed Elizabeth in tones calculated to reach the servants' hall.
"Mrs. Darcy! I am beyond astonished—utterly confounded—to discover you taking your ease while scandal attaches itself to this family like barnacles to a ship's hull. The very stones of Pemberley must blush at what has transpired. Have you nothing—absolutely nothing—to answer for yourself?"
Elizabeth, though she felt heat rise to her cheeks, inclined her head in cool respect. "Good afternoon, Lady Catherine. You honour us with your presence. I trust your journey did not prove too arduous, though I perceive it has left you somewhat... animated."
Lady Catherine's eyes flashed dangerously.
"Do not presume to deflect my purpose with hollow courtesies!
I have traveled here at considerable inconvenience, having learned through channels I need not disclose of the disgraceful settlement reached regarding the Shepherd's Lot.
Think not that this matter may be buried beneath your pretty manners and my nephew's misplaced confidence.
The de Bourgh name is not so easily tainted! "
Elizabeth replied with studied evenness, "I am confident no taint attaches to any name through our recent business. Every aspect was conducted with complete propriety and to the satisfaction, I believe, of all concerned parties."
Lady Catherine's formidable gaze now swept to Georgiana, who visibly shrank under its weight. "And you, Miss Darcy? What part did you play in permitting this upstart to embroil our family in county gossip? I suppose you sat mute while she presumed to act beyond her station?"
Georgiana, struggling for composure, managed in a voice barely above a whisper, "Indeed, Aunt Catherine, I—I believe Elizabeth acted only from the noblest motives. Her judgment in all matters has proven most... most wise."
"Judgment!" Lady Catherine struck the floor with her cane. "What judgment can possibly reside in a person of no consequence, no fortune, and no understanding of what is owed to such a house as Pemberley? I will tell you what qualifies her: nothing whatever! Less than nothing!"
Elizabeth, recognizing that silence would now appear as capitulation, drew herself up with quiet dignity.
"Lady Catherine, while I regret your disapprobation, I must observe that the care of Pemberley's reputation now rests with my husband and myself.
We have acted not merely from inclination, but in accordance with principles established by your own dear sister, Lady Anne.
Should you question our methods, I refer you to Mr. Harrow, who supervised every particular. "
Lady Catherine appeared to swell with indignation, her complexion deepening to shades requiring new vocabulary. Yet she managed to contain herself to sharp, indrawn breaths and renewed assault upon the hapless floorboards.
"I reserve all judgment until I have spoken with my nephew!
But do not imagine, Mrs. Darcy, that your airs deceive me for one moment.
You have presumed beyond all propriety, meddled in affairs far exceeding your comprehension, and exposed this ancient family to the mockery of every spiteful tongue in the county.
Whether I am more grieved or more incensed remains to be determined! "