Page 11 of The Talented Daughters of Longbourn

Georgiana’s Sitting Room

Netherfield

That Evening

Darcy knocked at the sturdy door before cracking it open and stepping into the sitting room.

It was overwhelmingly feminine, all salmon and peach and ruffles.

Georgiana and Mrs. Annesley sat close to the large fire, away from the chill that pervaded the house and lingered around the far edge of the room.

Darcy stepped gratefully into the warmth.

Mrs. Annesley lowered her knitting to her lap. “Would you like to speak with Miss Darcy alone, sir?”

“Yes, I would,” he returned, and the woman gathered her yarn and needles and glided from the room. Darcy moved a frilled cushion and sat down, smiling at his sister. “Hello, my dear.”

Georgiana marked her place and set aside her book, returning the smile brightly. “You wish to speak with me, Fitzwilliam? ”

“I do,” Darcy confirmed, then paused and asked delicately, “I have been wondering how you have been faring since Ramsgate.”

“I have been mostly well,” Georgiana said, scooting down the settee towards him.

“I confess to still being somewhat heart sore, but this month is better than last, which is better than the month before. I am aware that I made a terrible mistake in agreeing to run off with Wickham, but God was merciful. He sent you to prevent me from a foolish union with such a rascal.”

Darcy took his sister’s nearer hand and held it between his own. “I am so sorry that I did not warn you of him.”

“I understand why you did not, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana assured him. “We had no reason to expect him to track me down.” She gave her brother a quick tremulous smile and continued, “But I do not wish to discuss Wickham anymore, Brother.”

“Very well. But please, before we leave the subject entirely, do you enjoy Mrs. Annesley’s companionship?”

“Oh yes,” Georgiana replied, her face brightening. “She is very kind, and ... she is a genuine person. I liked Mrs. Younge well enough, but now I think she was always wearing a mask. She made herself agreeable, but it was like she was acting in a play, nothing more. ”

Darcy gritted his teeth at the memory of the former companion’s betrayal, but reminded himself that his sister no longer wished to speak of Wickham.

“Brother, Miss Bingley spoke this evening of a family named the ... Bents?” Georgiana said.

“Bennets,” Darcy corrected. “Longbourn lies to the west of Netherfield. It is a smaller estate than this one, and the family is composed of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and their five daughters.”

“Five!” Georgiana repeated, her eyes round with wonder. “How marvelous! But there are no sons?”

“No.”

“Well then, I do pity them a little, because every girl should have a protective older brother.”

Darcy, who felt that he had failed miserably in protecting his sister, could not help but plant an affectionate, and grateful, kiss on her head. “Thank you, dear one.”

“Do you like the Bennets?” his sister asked with studied disinterest.

Darcy raised his brow. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, Miss Bingley likes them, or at least the youngest two daughters, but Miss Bingley ... well, she said they are rather provincial, and I wondered ... Miss Bingley often...”

“Oh!” Darcy replied, the clouds metaphorically clearing. “You are wondering if they tend to gossip and boast like Miss Bingley?”

Georgiana blushed and said, “Well, yes. I was thinking that I would enjoy meeting them if you like them, but if they are going to be rude and tear others down, then I would prefer to not.”

Darcy sat back and considered this for a moment before saying, “Mrs. Bennet is a rather vulgar woman, but the four daughters I have met are well mannered and interesting ladies. They do not have the manners of the haut ton, but I like them well enough.”

“Well,” Georgiana replied, “I for one do not much enjoy the manners of the ton. Everything is so stiff and formal, and there are so many unspoken rules. I am always nervous about saying or doing the wrong thing. If the Bennet ladies are welcoming, I will be content.”

“They are,” Darcy said, and then admitted, “in truth, for all that the locals are neither sophisticated nor particularly elegant, they have been gracious to us all.”

“Then I would like to meet the Bennets,” his sister declared.

/

Longbourn

The Next Day

“You will need at least two silk dresses, my dear,” Mrs. Bennet mused, “and four muslin dresses, and…”

“No silk, Mamma,” Mary said with unaccustomed determination. “I will be but a curate’s wife and do not expect to be going to fancy parties often.”

Mrs. Bennet jerked in surprise and bent a confused look on her third daughter.

“No silk dresses? Nonsense, Mary, these are your wedding clothes! You must be well dressed when you stand in front of the altar next month, and I would be terribly ashamed if your trousseau was wanting. Oh Mary, to think that you, of all my daughters, will be married first! I am so proud of you!”

“Mamma,” Mary began and then stopped at the sight of Elizabeth shaking her head.

She sighed, but nodded back. It was true that Mrs. Bennet was probably incapable of behaving rationally regarding wedding clothes, especially since her mother refused to admit that her husband was genuinely ill and that money was in short supply .

“We are all so happy for you, Mary,” Lydia said, breaking up the awkward moment. “Mr. Turnball is such a fine gentleman.”

“He is, he is,” Mrs. Bennet crowed, and then frowned a little and said, “I do hope that tiresome old man in Kent dies soon; not that I wish for you to leave the area, Mary, but it sounds like the living is an excellent one!”

Mary grimaced just as Kitty, who was standing by the window, called out, “A carriage is coming up the drive! No, two carriages!”

This provoked Mrs. Bennet to hurry over to the window, and she cried out, “Oh, it is Mr. Bingley and his party from Netherfield! Oh dear, oh dear, Mary, you are engaged to Mr. Turnball, so none of the gentlemen can marry you! Pray run to the kitchen to tell Cook that we will be wanting tea in a few minutes. Then perhaps you can play on the pianoforte softly in the music room? You are a remarkably accomplished musician! You other girls, sit down and … and … read a book or something. I believe that Mr. Darcy is considered quite an intellectual. Oh, that cushion – Jane, pick up that cushion…”

Two minutes later, all the ladies were seated moderately sedately on various couches and chairs, though Lydia and Elizabeth had to avoid one another’s gazes for fear of giggling. Their mother had the best of intentions, but she could be quite silly at times .

The drawing room door opened, and the butler entered with a surprisingly large group of people.

“Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and company,” he announced, and took a step to the side.

The Bennet ladies stood up and curtsied, and Mrs. Bennet said, “Thank you for visiting! It is such a pleasure to see you!”

“Mrs. Bennet, Misses Bennet,” Darcy said with a returning bow, “may I please introduce my sister, Miss Darcy, and her companion, Mrs. Annesley.”

There was another round of curtsies, and Mrs. Bennet, beaming at the sight of all three single gentlemen from Netherfield, gestured and said, “Please do sit down, and we will have tea shortly.”

She bustled forward to hiss at the butler to ensure that there were sufficient refreshments for the entire party, and by the time she had turned around, everyone had found their way into a seat.

On the whole, she was moderately pleased with the arrangements.

Mr. Darcy and Mr. Fitzwilliam were sitting on a couch across from Jane and Elizabeth, with Miss Darcy placed to the left of her brother.

The girl was tall, pretty, and prim, and looked to be about Kitty’s age.

Mr. Bingley had taken a chair as close to Jane as possible, which was ideal.

Mr. Hurst, Mrs. Annesley, and Bingley’s sisters had taken their places at the other end of the room near Lydia and Kitty.

She was happy that Jane was surrounded by eligible men, but she thought it rather unfortunate that Lydia, with all her liveliness, had no such opportunities. She was young, but beautiful and charming.

But Jane was the first born, so perhaps the arrangements were for the best. Her eldest daughter, so pretty, so elegant, deserved her pick of husbands.

Two minutes later, the tea appeared, and Mrs. Bennet bustled around pouring for all her guests, ensuring that each lady and gentleman received milk or sugar, or both, depending on their desires.

She prided herself on attending to her visitors’ physical needs as her daughters charmed the gentlemen with their considerable beauty and grace.

“Miss Darcy,” Elizabeth said, “I believe you arrived at Netherfield recently?”

“Yes,” the girl replied in a soft voice, lowering her eyes, “only yesterday.”

“My sister and Mrs. Annesley traveled from Pemberley,” Mr. Darcy explained, inching slightly closer to his sister.

“That must have been a rather long trip, then?” Jane asked kindly .

“Yes,” Georgiana murmured, blushing. “Yes, it was long. But the roads were good.”

Jane and Elizabeth exchanged quick glances as realization dawned; Miss Darcy was shy.

“Well, I am thankful for that,” Elizabeth said cheerfully. “Mr. Darcy informed me that Pemberley is a lovely estate, and Derbyshire a beautiful county. Mr. Fitzwilliam, have you spent much time at Pemberley?”

“Not as much as I would like,” Fitzwilliam replied, “though enough to agree that it is a remarkable place. My father’s estate is in Nottingham, and when I was young, the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams took turns visiting one another during the holidays.

I have fond memories of ice skating and sledding; do you remember that, Georgiana? ”

Miss Darcy, whose color had subsided slightly, nodded and managed a slight, shaky smile. “I can recall you taking me sledding, Richard, although I was very small.”

“Is your father, the Earl, still living, Mr. Fitzwilliam?” Mrs. Bennet asked at this juncture, and Richard said, “Yes, indeed, Mrs. Bennet. Thankfully both my parents are alive and well.”

“That is a blessing,” Elizabeth said, now sorrowful. Soon she and her sisters would be fatherless, unless, of course, the doctor and apothecary were wrong .

But Mr. and Miss Darcy had been orphans for some years, and she felt a stab of sympathy toward them both.

“Who is playing the pianoforte?” Miss Darcy suddenly asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, that is my third daughter, Mary,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “She is newly engaged to Mr. Turnball, a local curate and music master.”

“She is very skilled,” Georgiana said with genuine admiration.

“Would you care to meet her?” Elizabeth inquired politely.

“Oh yes, that would be marvelous,” the girl replied, casting a beseeching look at her brother, who promptly stood up and held out an arm to his sister as she rose at the same time as Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet watched them depart with uncertainty.

On the one hand, she wished that Jane had escorted the Darcys to the music room since Darcy was worth ten thousand pounds a year.

On the other, well, based on Mr. Bingley’s rapt gaze on Jane’s face, he was already half enamored with the lovely eldest daughter of Longbourn.