Page 27 of The Winter of Our Discontent (Pride and Prejudice Variations #1)
ELIZABETH DARCY
Mr Darcy left early this morning. I was awake, of course, and putting on my cloak and gloves for a long walk around the lake when he came down the stairs like a gust of wind. Romney, reminding me of a helpless leaf, skittered along behind.
“I wish you safe travels, Mr Darcy,” I managed to say.
He bobbed his head once in my direction, put on his hat, and crisply replied he would appreciate regular correspondence to keep him apprised of estate doings. I dipped a curtsey, and he was away without looking back. The house, I noticed, seemed to exhale.
But correspondence? He wished me to correspond with him?
To think of what to say to him in a letter daunted me.
We had got out of the habit of writing, and when we did write, we penned curt little notes of a singular purpose.
I walked around the lake twice thinking briefly of what I would write to him before I began to think of what I would do with this respite in which Mr Darcy’s heavy presence did not linger over us all.
When I returned to the house, I searched out Mrs Annesley.
She was sitting in the music room with Georgiana, who played a mathematically pleasing piece written for harpsichord.
I spoke in a low voice so as not to be overheard. “Should we invite the curate and his sister to take dinner with us after church?”
She looked surprised but said, “I have often thought Miss Darcy would benefit from more society. The parson usually goes to Whitley Manor after church, but they closed up the house for winter and went to London early this year.”
“The Hodges are a threadbare pair, and if it were not so demeaning, I would pity them.”
“They will be glad of the invitation.”
“Then we can bring Mr Yardley, and—is there anyone else to include? I mean to ask only those who will not…” I was striving to say gently that I did not want Georgiana to be exposed to the ostentatious or critical people who seemed likely to exacerbate her shyness.
“I know exactly the sort you mean. There is a spinster living in Lambton on a competence, ma’am. She lives alone, save for a single servant, and I wonder how she manages. Her name is Miss Compton. Her father was a general killed in the West Indies.”
“Will you make the introduction? We will have four guests if they come, and that is a start at least.”
“I wonder what Mr Darcy might say.”
“Well, when he returns and we sit down on Sunday with a table full of threadbare ladies and gentlemen, I will soon discover the answer. Meanwhile, I do not see any harm in trying to bring more company here.” She looked at me a little uncertainly, but I then broached another subject.
I was overly enthusiastic in my plans, but I meant to take advantage of my husband’s absence.
“I wonder what you think of inviting the young ladies hereabouts to participate in Miss Darcy’s music lessons.
The music master is here, and after he conducts a private session with Miss Darcy, several of us could take turns, or we could sing duets, or I know not what.
It seems we could be a merry party indoors when she cannot ride because of the weather, and I know her brother was never in the habit of taking her around to visit the young people who live close by. ”
Mrs Annesley looked quite surprised, perhaps even uneasy to agree to such a step, but after a half second, she said, “That sounds enjoyable, Mrs Darcy. When we go to church, I will look about to see which young ladies are suitable, and perhaps we can call on them to issue invitations?”
“That would be perfect. But first,” I said with a faint smile, “I should ask the music master if he will give us another hour before we commit him.”