Page 11 of The Power of Refusal

A fter the whirlwind of Georgiana’s first season, Darcy relished their return to Pemberley. There he would have ample solitude, and fewer expectations that he perform in society. He had had his fill of that.

Georgiana was now a far more social being than she had been when younger. No more was she bashful and reluctant to speak. After some years with the stalwart companionship of Mrs Annesley, she had long since recovered from the painful incident with George Wickham. Now, she traipsed to house parties all over creation. To reciprocate the hospitality, Georgiana requested they hold a house party at Pemberley. Darcy concealed his groan of dread and assented to her wish.

The matter of preparing rooms, activities, and meals for her guests occupied Georgiana for weeks. Darcy used this time well, looking ahead to matters that might require his attention on the estate. He approved her guest list, with some grousing regarding the inclusion of young men.

“Would you have me invite only ladies to a house party? What sort of hostess would I be if I did that? Not everyone is as fond of solitude as you are, brother.”

“I am perfectly happy to have couples as guests, which necessarily includes gentlemen. It is these single gentlemen which concern me,” he said.

Georgiana regarded her brother with a smirk. “I see then. All the single ladies and no single gentleman. I cannot see the appeal.”

Darcy shook his head. “I will look over your list and see if I can approve these fellows. I have no interest in romantic escapades taking place on my watch. Who will protect the ladies?”

“I fail to see how you expect anyone ever to marry if we never mingle with the other sex.Each young lady will have a companion or sister to chaperone. Please, Fitzwilliam. I am not a child you must coddle.” Georgiana’s eyes were glossy. Her pleading tone tugged at his heart. Just because he wished for no part of the business, his sister had every right to seek love.

“I propose a compromise between us. I will ask our cousin Richard to look over the names and to be here during the party. Perhaps Hamilton and Sarah as well? I merely want to ensure there are enough older folks to keep their eyes on things.” Darcy hoped Georgiana would understand his concern.

After a moment, she nodded. “I can comprehend your position. The parents of the young people hosted most of the parties I have attended. As I have two guardians, it would make sense to have you both present. If Hamilton and Sarah wish to attend, I certainly would not object,” she said.

Darcy sent an express to Matlock House in London and was pleased to arrange for his cousins to come to his aid. Georgiana’s near seduction in Ramsgate by Wickham when she was fifteen drove his need for a far higher level of caution when young ladies were present. He would be far easier if he had his Fitzwilliam cousins present to keep control over the party and prevent any mischief.

∞∞∞

“Lady Harriet, it is lovely to see you again,” Darcy greeted the young lady seated at the breakfast table. Curiously, he had not seen her around the house during the earlier events.

“Thank you, Mr Darcy, for inviting me to your estimable home. The house and grounds are enchanting,” Lady Harriet replied.

The lady, sister to Georgiana’s friend Lady Julia, looked, if possible, frailer than she had months ago when he had first met her at the ball at Darcy House. Her gown hung on her loosely, as though she had lost more of her meagre form. Her smile was brilliant, nonetheless.

“I am pleased you are enjoying it. Have you decided whether you wish to dance tonight? I shall not ask you if you are hoping for a more desirable partner.”

Lady Harriet shook her head. “I fear dancing is no longer in my power. I would very much welcome your company if you are free to sit with me, however.”

Sadness washed over him. This lady, only a few years Georgiana’s senior, smiled and chatted, but had not the strength for a dance. How devastating it was for a girl who ought to be seeking a marriage partner to be relegated to the side of the ballroom.

“I would be more than happy to pass a set in your company. Tell me, please, what have you been doing whilst at Pemberley? Is there anything we can provide to make your stay more enjoyable?”

From her cheerful conversation, Darcy gleaned Lady Harriet spent the much of her time in her chamber. The multitudes of stairways in the house meant she needed help even to go down to dinner. Lady Harriet’s laughter rang out across the Pemberley drawing room. “Oh, Mr Darcy, you should have seen Thompson’s face when he realised he’d have to carry me down that magnificent staircase!”

Darcy watched as she gestured animatedly, her eyes bright despite the obvious fatigue lining her face. Her companion, hovering nearby, adjusted Lady Harriet’s shawl, which had slipped during her enthusiastic retelling.

“But I simply could not miss seeing the library,” Lady Harriet continued. “It was worth every laborious step. I hope Thompson agrees.”

As she spoke, Darcy noticed her discreetly supporting her back with cushions to maintain an upright posture. Yet her smile never wavered.

“And your gallery! I insisted on a tour, of course. Poor Thompson and Mrs Sallah—I’m sure they thought me mad, but they indulged me splendidly.”

It occurred to Darcy that Lady Julia required assistance so she could simply sit in the ballroom with the other guests. She was unable to join in the outdoor games and rides around the estate. Unlike his cousin Anne de Bourgh, who was notoriously sickly and isolated herself from all, Lady Harriet used her limited energy to spend time in company.

“Have you been out on the grounds at all? There are many roads that would be suitable for a phaeton if you wished it. I am certain there is a serviceable one in the stables,” he said, as he canvassed the possibilities to ensure Lady Harriet had some amusement.

“I fear I am no driver. I was once a fair hand at it, but my strength is no longer reliable. I could not put your horses at risk when I might not control them adequately,” Lady Harriet said with apologetic tones.

“There is no need. There are grooms and guests aplenty who would be pleased to take you around, if you are up to the experience. Certainly, I would be delighted to accompany you,” he said.

Lady Harriet was appreciative—she would love to be taken around the park, perhaps on a fair afternoon after she had rested. Darcy’s heart went out to this lovely girl. He thought of Georgiana racing across the fields with her lady friends, fearlessly galloping her mount, her life so carefree.

Mrs Sallah appeared, murmuring something, and Lady Harriet nodded, then turned back to Darcy. “It seems it’s time for my rest before dinner. But never worry—I shall be back down for every course. I would never miss your cook’s creations!”

As Thompson and Mrs Sallah prepared to help her from the room, Lady Harriet’s eyes sparkled with determination. “Now, which of your charming guests will you seat me next to this evening, Mr Darcy? I do so love a stimulating conversation!”

Darcy bowed and promised an entertaining dinner partner. What is more, he would meet with Mrs Reynolds and move Lady Harriet to a room where she need not face endless stairs, and where she would have ready access to the gardens. Something of Lady Harriet’s good cheer in the face of tragic limitations tugged at him. He thought of Miss Elizabeth, so strong and healthy, but with a dreadful family and no connections. She too maintained a cheerful mien despite challenges of a different sort. He would do what he could to make Lady Harriet comfortable, in honour of his lost love.

∞∞∞

Mr Gardiner apologised profusely for his misjudgement. “I knew Baxter was a little rough, but I would never have brought him to my home if I had truly known him. I am sorry, Lizzy, Madeline. You ought not to have been exposed to his coarse behaviour.”

Both ladies rushed to assure Mr Gardiner they took no offence. He left for his office, and Mrs Gardiner went above stairs to rest. Elizabeth played lady of the house, conferring with the cook about the lack of decent fish and accepting the post from the butler. Included was a letter which bore the markings of a solicitor her uncle worked with. Such a letter ought to have been directed to the warehouse.

Elizabeth soon wished she had not volunteered to run over to the warehouses to bring her uncle the post. That she was restless and in need of activity should have been a far less pressing concern than avoiding a certain gentleman. Elizabeth made the short walk to the warehouse accompanied by Evelyn. Her uncle had tacked her drawing up behind his desk. He was away for the moment, so she stacked the letter on his blotter and turned to depart.

“Why, Miss Bennet! I did not know you were employed in your uncle’s business,” Mr Baxter said. He was standing rather close to the doorway as Elizabeth went to leave.

“Hello, sir. I am merely delivering some letters that came to the house in error,” she said.She stepped forward, expecting the gentleman to clear the way for her to pass. He did not.

“Well, it is my good fortune to find you here, as you say, bringing the post.” Mr Baxter’s tone suggested his disbelief.

“Indeed. If you will excuse me, my aunt expects me directly.” Elizabeth made a gesture to indicate the passageway she wished to enter.

Mr Baxter’s smirk put her in mind of a feral cat stalking a mouse. He did not move but looked her over with an impertinent expression.

“What is your age, miss?” he asked.

Elizabeth’s brows furrowed. How unseemly forgentleman to ask such a direct question! “You may ask questions which I shall not choose to answer. I would direct you to my uncle if there is some reason that information is of need.” Elizabeth gave Mr Baxter a hard look and again gestured to let her pass.

Mr Baxter shook his head. “Is this your gratitude for my attentions to you? You are at least four-and-twenty, unmarried, and working in your uncle’s warehouse. I am astounded you do not recognise your interest in pleasing a gentleman who could offer you a better situation.” His eyes raked up and down her figure.

Elizabeth stiffened with horror. Of all the proposals—well, perhaps this might be more in line of a proposition—this was by far the worst. She straightened her spine and glared at the man. She had no need of a “situation.”

“You have insulted me in every possible method. I must beg to return to the house.”

Mr Baxter sneered, then leant forward towards her, leering. His lips parted and the smell of his dinner accosted Elizabeth’s nose.

“I think I deserve a little fun…”

A large hand grasped his shoulder from behind. “I b elieve the lady wishes to leave,” a voice said.

Mr Baxter turned and revealed behind him the warehouseman, Paul, whose threatening posture and remarkable bulk clearly intimidated Mr Baxter. For a moment, Elizabeth feared there would be a physical altercation. Then Mr Baxter snorted and stalked away.

“Are you well, Miss Bennet?” Paul asked. He stood back, flanked by the enormous rolls of fabric he had been carrying through the hallway.

“Thank you, Paul, for your intercession. I am well. I wonder, however, might I beg an escort to the house? I walked over with the housemaid, Evelyn. It might be well to have a more substantial companion on my return,” Elizabeth said, her voice quavering with a combination of fear and rage.

Elizabeth was not equal to much chatter on the short walk back to the Gardiners’ house. Paul walked just behind Elizabeth and Evelyn, his menacing expression clearing their way as they traversed the pavement. Elizabeth’s mortification was complete as she considered how she might relate the tale to her aunt and uncle.