Pride Prejudice and Perplexity

Darcy Discomposed

Chapter Fourteen – Darcy Discomposed

On the day following Elizabeth's arrival at Ashbourne, they were invited to dine at Pemberley, where they arrived at an early hour, for Bingley was eager to fish with Mr Darcy prior to the meal.

While the gentlemen were engaged at their sport, Georgiana served refreshments to the ladies in the garden. “I am afraid it will be a very small party today,” said Georgiana, “for my brother did not approve of my plan to invite Captain Radford, who is presently alone at Hartington.”

“Why ever not?” demanded Elizabeth. “I am well aware of how he discouraged you from being in his company in London, but I always thought it on account of your brother thinking the Captain was a fortune-hunter; but now that he is known to be wealthy, what possible objections can he have?”

Georgiana shook her head. “I do not know, and I would never dare to challenge him on such a matter.”

“But I shall,” said Elizabeth, “when a suitable opportunity presents itself. Is Colonel Fitzwilliam at Pemberley?”

“No, not at present,” said Georgiana, “but I expect he will arrive soon, for I received a letter from Victoria Barclay, who presently remains in Blackpool with her friend. She arrives at Hartington in a few days, where she intends to remain for some time. She wishes to assist Captain Radford in getting himself properly established there. I took the liberty of communicating the news to my cousin,” she said with a smile.

“I am certain he will appreciate receiving your intelligence,” observed Jane.

“And your cousin is not the only one to whom you do a service, Georgiana,” noted Elizabeth, “for he will insist upon Miss Barclay being invited to dine, and Captain Radford must be invited, also.”

“Yes, that is true; but please believe me, that it was not my principal inducement. I suspect that my cousin may have developed a preference for Miss Barclay, whereas I have no such feelings for Captain Radford; I simply find him the most amiable gentleman of my acquaintance, and I always enjoy his company and feel at my ease with him.”

“He is amiable indeed,” concurred Elizabeth, “and I am very pleased to learn that Victoria Barclay comes to the neighbourhood, and your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, also; we shall have many pleasant visits and dinner parties with so delightful a set.”

“Yes,” said Georgiana, “and I am hopeful that they will stay through the summer, for in August, my brother is to give a ball, in honour of my birthday.”

Elizabeth and Jane were delighted at the news, and the ladies found much to say on the happy prospect. However, their conversation was cut short at this point, for Mr Darcy approached, and greeted them. “I have left all the fish for Bingley, for he is a keener angler than am I,” he said by way of explanation. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he turned to Elizabeth and said, “Miss Bennet, I was hoping that there might yet be time, before the meal, for you to view the rose garden – it is considered one of the finest in this part of the country.”

“I would be delighted,” said Elizabeth, exchanging a glance with her sister and Georgiana; for the three ladies had visited it more than once, when Elizabeth and Jane had stayed at Pemberley in the spring.

“Mr Darcy,” began Elizabeth, as they walked along the path, “please allow me to thank you for your kindness in providing a carriage for my journey to Derbyshire, it was a most unexpected, but appreciated, courtesy.”

“It was my pleasure; although I would hope that it was not so entirely unexpected,” he said meaningfully. Elizabeth looked away from the intensity of his gaze. “Miss Bennet, I am well aware that there is a particular matter which causes you great dissatisfaction. I speak of the young lady whom you encountered by the river when you visited your youngest sister, some months ago. My silence on the subject has, I fear, led to you forming a conclusion regarding my relationship with the young lady, which is entirely false. This will, I know, hardly satisfy your curiosity, but unfortunately there is nothing further I can say on the subject without violating a solemn oath that I have given to another. Since you were last at Pemberley, I have contemplated this matter a great deal; and regrettably, I still find myself unable to solve the dilemma of how to satisfy your justifiable concerns and curiosity while honouring my promise.”

“I, too, have been contemplating this matter, Mr Darcy, and you may be surprised to learn that I have attempted, in my own way, to solve the dilemma,” said Elizabeth.

“What?” demanded Mr Darcy, abruptly stopping, and staring at Elizabeth in confusion. “How?”

Elizabeth, who had also stopped, now walked on; obliging her companion to do likewise. “When we departed Pemberley in the spring, for Longbourn, we made a small detour through Suffolk; for my sister, Jane, was eager to visit our younger sister, Lydia.”

“Oh? I am most surprised to learn that you were able to find the place.”

Elizabeth smiled. “Yes, I imagine you might well be; for your coachman, who conveyed my sister, Catherine, and myself, there from London, took the most circuitous and confusing route. I would not wish to complain about the competence of those in the service of another – most especially when he has been so generous in providing the use of his carriage; and on more than one occasion – but one almost suspects that the coachman was under orders to ensure that it would be quite impossible for us to know to whence we had been taken – or ever to find the place again.”

“I may have given an instruction of that nature,” said Mr Darcy awkwardly. “So, how then, were you able to find the place?”

“Luckily, I happened to come across a map of Suffolk in your library, upon which someone had, most helpfully, circled Freston.”

“I see,” said Mr Darcy uneasily.

“Mr Bingley did not enter the house with us, and though he is aware that my sister resides there, he is unaware of the identity of its owner – and knows nothing of its other occupants. While Jane was talking with Lydia, I managed to find Julia, who had hidden herself in the garden.”

“My God – you know her name!”

“Yes, but she told me very little else besides – except that she loved you, and believed that her love was returned.”

Mr Darcy looked most serious, but said nothing. They had by this time reached the rose garden, and Elizabeth seated herself on a sunny bench, where her companion awkwardly joined her.

“Miss Bennet, I have a solemn request to make of you.”

“Yes, Mr Darcy?”

“Please do not repeat anything about Freston and its occupants – save for your younger sister – to anyone. Have you spoken with anyone else on the subject?” he asked anxiously.

“I believe I told you, once before, that my sister, Jane, and I confide everything in the other; however you may be certain that she keeps my confidences, and will tell them to no one – not even her husband.”

“And is she is the only one, other than yourself, who knows... of Julia's existence?”

“There is one other – my aunt, Mrs Gardiner, whom you met, together with my uncle, last summer.”

“Yes, I remember them – most amiable people – but how came you to tell your aunt?” he demanded.

“As you may imagine, Mr Darcy, after speaking with Julia I was most unhappy indeed; for it confirmed my worst fears. Soon after my return to Longbourn my aunt and uncle came with their children to visit. Jane and I have always been very close to our aunt; and when we find ourselves in need of advice or guidance from a sensible older lady, we have come to greatly value her wise counsel. Hoping that she might find some explanation, other than the obvious one, I told her of my conversation with Julia, and about the house. My aunt was particularly interested in Mrs Harrison, and her behaviour, which I had found puzzling, for she sometimes betrayed an authority that was unexpected in a housekeeper.”

“I see,” said Mr Darcy uncomfortably.

“My aunt expressed a great desire to see her niece, Lydia.”

“My God, you did not go back a third time?”

“I am afraid that I did, Mr Darcy. I do not know if you recall her speaking of it, but my Aunt Gardiner spent much of her youth in Derbyshire – in the town of Lambton – and it seems that my information about Mrs Harrison stirred a recollection of an incident, most strange, that occurred when my aunt was but a girl of fifteen. For one day, quite without warning, she found herself without a teacher. They were told that their teacher had gone as a governess to Scotland. My aunt was the good friend of the younger sister of the teacher; and, by good fortune, when we visited Derbyshire last summer, she succeeded in finding her, and renewing their acquaintance. Having long ago ceased to give credence to the story about their teacher's disappearance, my aunt questioned her friend, who now gave her a completely different account of those long ago events. Her sister, she said, had fallen in love with a wealthy married gentleman, who, upon discovering that she was expecting his child, had secluded her in some distant and unknown place.”

Mr Darcy sat shaking his head in disbelief.

“When we entered the house at Freston, much as she had suspected, my aunt recognised Mrs Harrison as being none other than her missing teacher, Catherine Norton; who, when presented with the account of her disappearance, as given by her younger sister, Mary, conceded everything. Mary had not actually revealed the identity of the gentleman, for she herself was ignorant of it. However, given your connection with the house, my aunt had little difficulty in guessing his name; and when she claimed that Mary had, in fact, revealed the father of her daughter as being Mr Darcy, Mrs Harrison readily acknowledged it.”

Elizabeth had never seen Mr Darcy look so discomposed. His face was anguished and pale; he hung his head, shaking it. Eventually he took a deep breath and said woefully, “I have betrayed my father; I have failed to keep the oath that I gave him on his deathbed, to keep secret, the great disgrace of his life.”

“You blame yourself unfairly, Mr Darcy,” said Elizabeth gently. “All your father could possibly have expected of you, and believed you to be promising him, was that you should do everything in your power to guard his secret – which I am certain you have done. No man could reasonably expect another to promise something that was entirely beyond his ability to ensure. Your only contribution to my discovery of your father's secret, was in allowing Lydia to see her sister Catherine, which you could not have imagined would result, as it has, in my discovery.

“The villain of the piece is not you, Mr Darcy, but I; for I have acted from impetuous self-interest, and refused to allow anything to prevent me from uncovering the truth – no matter what unhappiness it might have caused another.”

“Please, Miss Bennet, do not blame yourself; do not feel remorseful or suffer regret, for you knew not that you were injuring me.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I feel remorse, and suffer regret? I do not! I rejoice at my discovery, which makes everything possible – and as for injuring you – it is a nonsense; for if you imagine yourself to be to blame for my actions, then it is a fanciful injury of wilful self-infliction.”

“Yes, perhaps you are correct, Miss Bennet, that I am not culpable for your discovery. However, in being true to the promise I made to my father, I now find myself obliged to beg you, with all my being, to keep this awful secret, and to prevail upon Mrs Bingley and Mrs Gardiner to do likewise.”

“You may be assured that I shall do exactly as you ask,” promised Elizabeth.

“It may surprise you, that my father should have been so utterly desperate to hide his indiscretion. Most probably, you will think – but surely it is not so unusual a history – a rich gentleman taking advantage of a pretty young girl.”

“I will admit that I thought exactly that.”

“My father was a moral gentleman of high standards and principles. Regrettably, his married life was not a happy one. That is not an excuse, I know, and he swore to me, when he made his confession on his death-bed, that Miss Norton was the only lady with whom he ever... had committed an indiscretion. And he was truly in love with her, he said. She was the eldest daughter of the rector of Kympton, which was in my father's gift. Mr Norton was a frequent guest at my father's table, and on occasion the generosity was returned, and my father was invited to dine at the parsonage, which was where he made the acquaintance of Miss Norton, who was considered a local beauty. Though his behaviour at the time was reprehensible, he afterwards did everything in his power to make the lives of Miss Norton and her daughter as comfortable and happy as possibly he could; and he continued to visit her for the rest of his life.”

“Your father was certainly generous in providing for them; and I understand that you continue to do so, and have unreservedly assured them that they will be supported all their lives.”

“Yes, but I am simply carrying out my father's injunction, and honouring my promise to him; I deserve no praise, the credit is his.”

“However, in the case of your sister, Julia, you have, I believe, gone far beyond what was required by your promise; you have gone to great lengths to endeavour to advance her happiness.”

“What brother could do otherwise, and for so lovely and blameless a one as she? I regret only that I am unable to do more for her; it saddens me that her life is destined to be one of isolation and loneliness; and though I take every opportunity to provide her with what company I am able, it is not enough.”

“No, it is not enough. And though you are to be greatly commended for all you have done to please your sister, and to alleviate her loneliness, yet she is melancholy; and her future is not promising.”

Mr Darcy shook his head sadly. “Your discernment, Miss Bennet, is acute. You are entirely correct, and it troubles me greatly.”

“Do not reproach yourself, Mr Darcy. You are not the author of your sister's misfortune, and you have done everything within your power to soften it.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the dinner gong, and as they were at some distance from the house they immediately set out to return, and rejoin the rest of the company.

“Miss Bennet,” said Mr Darcy in a somewhat tentative tone, “there was something you said before which struck me most forcefully. We were speaking upon the subject of your having uncovered my father's secret, and you said that rather than feel remorse or suffer regret at your discovery, you rejoiced, for it made everything possible. May I hope that I did not mistake your meaning?” he asked, looking at her imploringly.

Elizabeth smiled, and looked purposefully at the path before her. “Everything, may mean a great many things; and that, which takes precedence above all others in my mind at the present moment, is the possibility of materially improving your sister's situation.”

“Oh, I see,” said Mr Darcy, evidently disappointed. “But you, yourself have just now acknowledged that I have done everything in my power – what more, pray tell, can I do?”

“I was not speaking of what you can do, Mr Darcy, but rather of what I can do; although it will require your consent and cooperation.”

“Oh?” asked Mr Darcy in surprise. “Of what were you thinking, Miss Bennet?”

“I have been pondering the matter a great deal since I was last at Freston, and I believe I have hit upon a way to relieve Julia's isolation and bring her into society – at least in some small way.”

“How do you imagine you might do it, without revealing my father's secret?” asked Mr Darcy, clearly alarmed.

“I wish to invite your sister to visit me at Ashbourne, as my special friend.”

Mr Darcy stopped walking. “But surely that will demand some explanation about her background – who is her father, and so on. No, I am sorry, but most regretfully, it cannot be done.”

Elizabeth continued to walk. “Yet I believe it can. My sister is but recently arrived in the neighbourhood, and for those who are not aware of the exact details of her family connections, she will simply be considered a lady of good character from the south of England. For as a married woman, her respectability derives principally from her husband; and Mr Bingley is known widely in these parts on account of having visited frequently – but most especially through his being the good friend of yourself. As Mrs Bingley's sister, and living presently under the protection of Mr Bingley, my respectability will be taken for granted, and will, I believe, be consequently conferred upon any guest of Mr and Mrs Bingley who is known to be my special friend.”

Mr Darcy looked doubtful. “I cannot see how questions regarding her family cannot arise.”

“Initially, I imagine that Julia will wish to remain quietly at Ashbourne. Remember, she is quite unaccustomed to being in society, and it would be best if she is exposed to it gradually. If she were to go amongst strangers – for example, to attend a ball or some large dinner party – then, yes, something would need to be communicated, for she is an unmarried lady. But here, amongst friends and acquaintances of Mr and Mrs Bingley, I believe no one would question her background; and she is so visibly shy, that she would, I believe, be very likely spared questions concerning her past.”

“She, herself, may be spared such questions, but others would not,” objected Mr Darcy, still unconvinced.

“If someone should ask explicitly as to her background, they will be referred to myself, and I will give them to understand I have my reasons for not wishing to disclose it; and they may think what they will.”

“I am not so sure that it will be as easy as you suppose, Miss Bennet, and it could result in a great deal of embarrassment for Julia.”

“If your sister's presence should create difficulties, or if she becomes uncomfortable, then she can simply return to Freston. At least she will have had a temporary diversion from her solitude.”

“But my sister is a most beautiful and charming young lady. It is inevitable that young men must be attracted to her, and think of her as a prospective wife; in which case, questions of who are her father and mother cannot be avoided. Did you consider that?”

“I did; and indeed my hope is that eventually your sister will be married – for aside from the obvious reason of wishing her every happiness, it would greatly diminish any interest in her origins, for her respectability would be principally determined by that of her husband.”

“Yes, perhaps,” conceded Mr Darcy. “But how is she ever to find a husband? For any man wishing to marry her would be obliged to enquire about her parentage. All he could be told is that her father was a gentleman, and her mother a gentleman's daughter; and that he might never know their identities – and that furthermore, she was born out of wedlock. Can you not see that under those circumstances, no gentleman would wish to marry her?”

“No, I cannot!” said Elizabeth pointedly. “You do not allow for the strength of love. I concede that perhaps for most gentlemen, even the most ardent love would not be enough to overcome the objections you raise. Yet there are men, I believe, for whom those objections might not be insurmountable. Not every gentleman is of so elevated a rank as your own, nor has he the same feeling as to what is owed to the name of his fathers and forefathers, nor has he all your relations and connections to consider, who would wish to know all the details of the lady's family.”

Mr Darcy shook his head and walked on in silence for some time, contemplating Elizabeth's proposal. “Such men may exist, I suppose, although I cannot think of a single one. Please believe me, nothing could give me greater happiness, than that my sister should fall in love with such a gentleman – who, knowing of her background, would still wish to marry her.”

“And I, also.”

“But I fear that we are become carried away with our hopes; and dream of the impossible, Miss Bennet. For if I am being entirely rational, I am obliged to conclude that such a happy outcome is most unlikely, indeed. Nor can I ignore the potential for mischief and a great deal of unhappiness; for there will be no want of men who would fall in love with my sister – she is truly the loveliest of creatures. And if there are those, whose circumstances are as you describe, who, knowing the truth, would still wish to marry her, they must be a very small number indeed. But what of the others? What of any other gentleman who should fall in love with her? Think of the pain he would suffer, upon learning that marriage was impossible – and think of the pain it would cause Julia if she were in love with him. I am truly sorry, but I cannot allow it.”

“You forget that I shall be observing your sister closely, and guiding her carefully. I will make her aware of the dangers of which you speak; and should I observe the possibility of an attachment developing with a gentleman to whom marriage would clearly be impossible, I shall advise her to discourage him. Please trust me, Mr Darcy.”

“I do trust you, Miss Bennet, but yet I am wary. Apart from the matters upon which we have been speaking, there is that great fear which I have borne these past seven years, since my father's passing – that the secret he has charged me with guarding might become known to the world. I have deliberated a great deal in that time over how it might be possible to bring my sister out into society without endangering that secret, and it has been my unwavering conclusion that it cannot safely be done. And to attempt it here, in Derbyshire, where she has living relations of both her father and mother, seems most reckless, indeed. I am not acquainted with her aunt – but you tell me that she lives in Lambton, and then there is myself and Georgiana. Someone might observe a family resemblance.”

“Of her Aunt Mary, in Lambton, I cannot say. I remember meeting her last year with my own aunt and uncle, but I can remember nothing of her features. I will admit that I did detect some resemblance between Julia and yourself – but only because I was looking for it – I did not notice it on the previous two occasions, before I knew of your relationship. As for Georgiana and Julia, I can find no striking resemblance – or at least nothing that would give rise to suspicions of a relationship.”

But try as she might, Elizabeth found herself unable to allay Mr Darcy's fears, which she conceded were not unreasonable. It was evident that though he sincerely wished to do what was best for his sister, his overwhelming sense of obligation to his father, and the promise he had made to him upon his deathbed, overcame every other consideration.

As they neared the house, she said, “Mr Darcy, I understand your doubts concerning the likely success of my plan, and your fears regarding the secret that you have vowed to keep. But consider the happiness of your sister. I know you love her. Is not the possibility of delivering her from a life of loneliness and seclusion worth those risks? And I hardly need add that it would please me greatly.”

He sighed deeply. “Please allow me think further on the matter.”

When they rejoined the others, the inquisitive eyes of the Jane and Georgiana were straight away upon them; but it was soon evident that the delightful news which they both hoped to hear would not be announced. Elizabeth looked somewhat nettled, and was hardly a picture of joy and happiness, and Mr Darcy seemed severe, and frowned rather a lot, and often appeared lost in thought.

After the meal, when the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the sitting room, Georgiana played at the pianoforte while Jane and Bingley listened attentively. Mr Darcy took the opportunity of taking Elizabeth aside and seating himself beside her to one side of the room, where they might not be overheard. “Miss Bennet, I first of all wish to tell you how greatly I appreciate – and indeed, am deeply touched – by the depth of your concern for my sister, Julia. Your unyielding determination to extricate her from her lonely existence gives me pause to think that in my preoccupation with keeping the promise I made to my father, that I have erred too much on the side of caution, to the detriment of my sister, for whom I failed to do all that I might.”

“You are too severe on yourself, Mr Darcy. No brother, in the circumscribed situation in which you found yourself, could have shown greater love, or done more for his sister.”

“You are most kind, but my guilt is not so easily assuaged. Perhaps the only thing I may say in my defence is that I lacked the imagination to devise a scheme as ingenious as yours, which might allow my sister the possibility of coming out into society. I am determined to put it into effect with all urgency.”

Elizabeth smiled with delight. “Thank you, Mr Darcy, for granting me my great wish – and for putting your trust in me; I shall strive not to disappoint you. How do you propose to convey your sister to Ashbourne?”

“I have a matter of business that requires me to go to London at some stage within the next few months. I have resolved to bring it forward, and shall depart tomorrow. I will stop in Freston on my way to town, and discuss your scheme with Julia and her mother. If it is favourably received, and Julia wishes to visit Ashbourne as your guest, then I shall call again at Freston on my return journey, and collect Julia.”

“Oh, to think that she may be here so soon! I am delighted! Please ask Julia to write to me, straight away, to tell me of her decision – although I have little doubt that it will be in the affirmative. Does she go by the name of Julia Harrison?”

“Yes, although I believe her mother introduced her to your younger sister as Julia Smith, in order to hide their relationship.”

“Since you wish to conceal her identity as your sister, you will need another lady to accompany you on your journey,” advised Elizabeth.

“I shall bring one of the maids from Freston along with us on the journey; in fact, she might as well remain at Ashbourne, as a maid to my sister.”

“I would not recommend it. Servants are in the habit of exchanging confidences with each other; and it is my experience that very often they know a great deal more of what is going forth in the lives of their masters and mistresses than might be imagined. A maid from Freston might very well whisper to the other servants that you were a frequent visitor there, and your secret might soon be known.”

“You are most astute, I had not considered that possibility; I shall send the maid back to Freston immediately by post. Do you have any other suggestions?”

“Only that you may wish to enquire of your sister if she is in possession of all the appropriate attire that she will require to engage in society; and if not, she and her mother may wish to provide you with a list of purchases along with her measurements.”

“Where would I take such a list?” asked Mr Darcy.

“Harding and Howell, on Pall Mall, should be able to supply all of her requirements. However, you could hardly order such items yourself, for an unknown lady, without creating a scandal.”

“Then what would you suggest?”

“Take the list to my Aunt Gardiner. I shall write to her immediately, so that she will know to expect you. She will arrange to have the gowns made up; and if your visit to town is but short, she can give directions for everything to be sent to Ashbourne.”

“I do not intend to spend above two or three days in London. You may expect to receive my sister at Ashbourne within a week or ten days.”

“I shall look forward to it with the greatest delight,” said Elizabeth, smiling happily.