Page 47 of The Last House in Lambton (Pride and Prejudice Variations #6)

CHAPTER FORTY

I f I had been asked before that moment what my feelings would be upon standing in the gallery looking out her window at the coach as it retreated through the valley, up the hill, and out of my sight around the bend, I would have said my despair would have matched hers equally.

But in that silent space, I felt the greatest peace of my life.

It fell over me in waves of blessed silence, and from within I felt the oddest stirring—that of a nascent, causeless joy.

Our story was as good as written, and we were already running with the stars.

I knew in no uncertain terms what I would next do.

After indulging in five minutes of this transcendent state, I went to my sister’s room. She had passed through the worst of her grief and was nursing a few stray tears and sniffing back the rest.

“Come out for an airing with me,” I said. “We have not ridden in an age, and though it is muddy, wet, and cold, I think it would be pleasant.”

She looked up sharply, surprised. “Mrs Reynolds does not like it when I ride in winter. ”

“She need not know until we are in our saddles and trotting away from her. You can endure a little scold, surely.”

This was the medicine that was needed—an adventure and a naughty one at that.

I sent a surreptitious note to the stable master, and Georgiana called for her maid, put on her riding habit, and we slipped down the steps at the far end of the hall.

When we came out by the steward’s office, we dashed across the hall like truants and escaped out the side door.

My sister was giggling almost uncontrollably as I tossed her up in her saddle, and we cantered away into a misting rain that was sweeping over the lake.

I followed Georgiana, who whipped back her curls and tightened her muffler, and we broke into a gallop.

The freezing air and cold rain blew through us, ridding us of the memory of those airless and confining hours we had just survived.

The noise of a gallop in a mist was strikingly loud, and as we thundered through puddles, our horses took in enormous gulps of air and huffed out plumes of fog.

She let out a whoop of exhilaration, and I broke into a shout of laughter. We rode nearly to the chalk hills, slowed to a canter, and then to a trot.

“You are covered in mud!” she said, looking over at me with ruddy cheeks and brilliant, laughing eyes.

“So are you, miss,” I replied with playful stiffness.

“No! Am I?” Georgiana’s eyes swept downward. “Goodness, I shall be in such trouble!”

“Yes, but you will have a hot bath, tea on a tray, and be tucked up in your bed very shortly, if I know anything.”

This was, in fact, precisely what was in store for my sister, and at the very instant we stepped in the side door, she was swept up like the victim of an accident. The scolding she anticipated, however, was reserved for me.

“What a mad day to take that child out, Mr Darcy,” Mrs Reynolds said sternly. She was scowling at me much as she had when I was twelve.

“Was it?” I looked humbly at the floor as though pondering the justice of her accusation. Then, with a tinge of mischief, I raised my eyes to face her. “I thought it the perfect time, since she had just wept out her heart for the loss of her friend. It did her a world of good, ma’am.”

“Well, sir, let us hope your world of good did not kill her,” she grumbled before remembering she had yet another child to cluck over. “And you! You are wet to the skin. I shall send Carsten with the hot water this minute.”

I sank gratefully into a hot bath, sat in luxurious idleness over a tray of food, and even indulged in a brief nap. My days of listening intently to every whisper and attending to the smallest of details—my watch duty—had come to an end.

Inevitably, the scandal of Elizabeth’s parting had radiated through the house, yet I easily ignored it.

I really had no interest in what might be said of her or of me, of whatever titillating conclusions were reached with regard to our private meeting in the gallery, or of her tear-stained march of broken dignity back down the stairs and into her uncle’s custody.

The maids were so often caught whispering their romantic ideas that Mrs Reynolds was forced to call a halt to such conferences.

Parker’s face, too, became slightly sterner than on his stiffest days, and I pitied the poor footman who dared to snicker at the gossip, for he would surely face a purring enquiry if he might be happier in service to the squire.

In the wake of the lurid speculations that would abound in a large country house under the circumstances, came a kind of settled boredom.

No, I had not ridden off after her ventre à terre— a matter of relief for a few and disappointment for others, since even the lowliest member of my household had an opinion on the match.

Whether for her or against her, however, no one could deny that Elizabeth’s presence had been such that her absence was felt as a kind of gaping void.

As I reflected in a state of repose, she was on the long and uncomfortable journey south, no doubt also deep in reflection.

There was little to do when confined in a carriage, being jolted from one change of horses to the next, except to think, and to think hard about one’s life.

I hoped I featured largely in those thoughts.

Meanwhile, Georgiana was distracted by yet another inevitable loss in her life. Mitten had slipped out the kitchen door and was nowhere to be found. She did not cry, but she was sad and could not help but see that her kittens were quickly becoming cats.

“I shall have to do something with them,” she admitted to me over cards.

She pondered the problem for several days, and I let her come to her own decision.

They were, after all, her kittens. In the end, the toms would be sent to the cottages and the stables, and three of the females were to be kept in the house, one to be groomed as Button’s genteel replacement, one to patrol the attics and maids’ quarters, and one to rule the stillroom.

Georgiana then looked up at me a little sheepishly and admitted there would be a long hiatus between litters.

“I have come to the same conclusion in the kennel,” I replied, also sheepishly. I verily hated sending pups to new owners, but I could not justify keeping twenty dogs, particularly when the hunt was Sir Hugh’s domain.

We enjoyed the common and ordinary moments, commiserating on the miserable bits and enjoying the pleasurable ones, close as any brother and sister anywhere.

If I never saw Elizabeth again, she would have left her indelible mark on us in this regard at least, and though we never spoke of it, we were acutely aware of it and continued to attend to Mrs Jennings as though her niece was still with us.

The poor lady had not known Elizabeth from anyone else precisely, but her great-niece had a perceptive power to anticipate her needs greater than any of her other caregivers.

She was often frustrated of late, and though Mrs Jennings did not have sufficient memory to be sad in a particular way, she knew that her principal support had gone away.

Slowly, Ruth would learn to sense her moods and intervene before they took hold, but in the meantime, the lady sat at the window for hours, staring down at the walled garden and the meadow beyond.

March came and with it a respite from the worst cold. The days of iron frost were behind us, and ahead of us, April and May stood ready to receive us when we ventured out into the world again.

My readiness for this eventuality began steadily to grow into an almost ungovernable urge to fly south.

Georgiana, however, was confronted with her debut which, as Elizabeth had so astutely guessed, was as welcome as a visit to the tooth drawer.

Still, she was far more ready than she would have been had she not had Elizabeth’s example of what a mixture of charm and stubborn persistence, dignity in the face of embarrassment, and laughter in the face of absurdity could do for a girl.

Her court dress and ball gowns had been sewn before we left London, and our aunt wrote with increasing frequency, urging us to come for one grand event or another.

But Georgiana had from the beginning made clear she would not make the frantic dash to every ball on offer as did many ingénues who were anxious to wed.

She would make the minimum required appearances, bow to the Queen, feature in her own ball at Lord Matlock’s house, and call the thing done.

As Mrs Annesley began to ink these dates into my sister’s calendar, I sensed Georgiana striving to emulate Elizabeth’s example.

She was willing to try, at least, to be brave, which was as much as I could have asked of her.

As she contemplated her future and the necessary travel it required, something else occurred to her—a question I had known all along would come eventually.

“Do you think Elizabeth meant it when she told me not to visit Longbourn?”

It was late in the evening, and perhaps because she missed her friend, she had asked if I would sit with her in Mrs Jennings’s little parlour after Ruth had taken the old lady to bed.

After a pause, I said, “I do not think there is anything she would like more than to see you, dearest. She is only concerned that you will be disgusted by her family.”

“Truly? But they cannot be so bad that she is ashamed of them.”

“They have often mortified her, I am afraid. What she told you was quite accurate, though she managed to make a joke of it. They are quite different people than you are used to, Georgiana.”

“Well,” she huffed, “I hope I am not quite as critical as—” She had the grace not to name names and drifted into silence.

“I would doubt very much if she thought you are like, er, other ladies she has met, only, consider that she loves her sisters and her parents in spite of and perhaps even because of their foibles. She would want to shelter them from the damning opinions of people she holds in esteem, and she would want to shield you from an uncomfortable judgment. Do you see?”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I had not thought—I do not want to make her uncomfortable.”

“But if we went for a flying visit and made a determined effort to show her we did not come to find fault, perhaps she would not be made too unhappy?”

The notion took hold, and I nurtured it with a delicacy I did not know I possessed.

Of a surety, we would stop in Hertfordshire on our way to London, even if it were only for an hour.

But I had a deep plan, one that required patience and an openness of mind, because in truth, I did not know how this dream would end.

On the following morning at breakfast, I said, “I have decided to forgo my visit to Rosings this year.”

“Are you in earnest?”

“Do not look so startled. Lady Catherine will be annoyed, but she is unlikely to die of vexation.”

“Richard will not have to go alone, will he?”

“My word!” I said playfully, “he is a colonel in the King’s own regiment. I daresay he can decide what to do, and if he must go alone, he will likely manage.”

“Do not tease me. It would be, to me, a terrible prospect to face her without you.”

“Fortunately, you do not have to do so. But perhaps to lessen the impression I have deserted our cousin outright we should concoct so-called ‘other plans.’ Where would you like to go before the season starts in earnest?”

“Do you mean a holiday?”

“Yes, that is precisely what I mean. Lady Catherine will object regardless, but Richard would certainly understand. You have been nowhere of interest since you went to Ramsgate.” I held my breath. We never willingly spoke of her seducer, much less the scene of her near ruination.

Her eyes fell, and she spoke while looking inward. “It is a pity, but I cannot remember what the seaside looked like.”

“Would you like to see it again perhaps?” I asked this as casually as I could so as not to inflect my preference either way.

Her eyes whipped up, and she stared at me.

“I only ask because Miss Elizabeth had a fright at Mrs Jennings’s house, yet she went back several times.

I believe the effect was lessened because of her willingness to see it in other circumstances.

In any case, we should go somewhere , even if for only a few days, and perhaps even invite your new friend to come along. ”

Georgiana’s anxious expression transformed to joy in an instant. She put her hands on her cheeks and cried, “Are you in earnest? Could we ask Elizabeth to come?”

“I do not see why not, if she is free to go and willing. You will have your debut directly after and will want to remember a pleasant time during the long hours of standing in a receiving line.”

“And waiting to make my bows and-and everything!”

“Where shall we go then?”

“Let us go to Ramsgate.”

“Are you certain? The weather will be wilder than in summer.”

“But I would dearly love to see a storm on the sea. And besides, I did not dislike being wet and cold when we rode in the rain.” She came to a halt in her effusions and said, “But Elizabeth might not like it.”

“I assure you Miss Elizabeth Bennet has no aversion to being out of doors in any weather.”

My sister sat imagining this scene for a minute, and then suddenly entertained her doubts. “But Ramsgate is in Kent, and perhaps that is too close to Lady Catherine.”

“I doubt she would hunt us down and drag us to Rosings. But if you would like, we could go enjoy the wind and rain of Brighton instead.”

She laughed. “We could take Elizabeth to see the Pavilion and perhaps even engage to take a tour of it.” She spoke playfully, for I had never disguised my disapproval of the Regent’s palatial expenditures.

I was satisfied with her plan. We had broached the idea of Ramsgate, and I did not doubt she would return there when she was ready. And, should someone mention the place in casual conversation during her Season, I knew that she could face it without undue distress.

Our plan to travel invigorated a household that had not yet recovered from the anticlimactic departure of the most exciting guest to ever visit Pemberley.

In a matter of days, the servants cheerfully ushered us out the door, having packed our trunks for any eventuality, and waved us away with little Queenie tucked in a basket and a hamper of food that took up the space of a person.