“Estates are ruined by dividing them,” Lady Catherine declared. “These laws exist to maintain a property’s integrity.”
“They are unjust when they cause harm to rightful heirs,” interjected Mr Darcy, to Elizabeth’s growing shock. “Why are you astonished, Miss Bennet?” he continued, noticing hersurprise. At the same time, she wondered how closely he had been observing her to see the expression on her face.
“I am surprised because you are the master of a large estate. Would you divide it equally among, say, five children?”
“I would not sell Pemberley if that was the question,” Mr Darcy responded, “but I believe in fair distribution of wealth among all my children, as my parents did.”
“Enough of this matter,” Lady Catherine abruptly concluded.
And Miss Darcy sighed beside Elizabeth, a sign she had not enjoyed the conversation.
Elizabeth searched Miss Darcy’s eyes and smiled to show that she was not angry or frustrated, confident for now that aloofness was not a family trait or due to their social circle. If some people were afflicted with it, it came more likely from their nature or a personal interpretation of one’s education; after all, Miss Darcy and her brother had the same parents. However, looking to the other end of the table, she wondered if it was, after all, a temporary ailment, for she observed Mr Darcy speaking and smiling and looking at her from time to time as if it had always been that way.
“Do you play and sing, Miss Bennet?” asked Lady Catherine.
“A little,” Elizabeth replied.
“Then we must have the pleasure of hearing you. Our instrument must be superior to what you have at home.”
“I do not think I am skilled enough to play in such company,” Elizabeth said. She did not like the idea of exhibiting at all.
“Nonsense, Miss Bennet. I remember my nephew telling us how accomplished you are.”
Lady Catherine might seem vain, but she also had a clever mind and many schemes to humiliate. Yet Elizabeth wassure that her playing, which was far from perfection, would be enough in the company of Lady Catherine. She nodded, accepting, but her acceptance was superfluous in the house where everything happened because her ladyship had given an order.
Elizabeth hated that particular moment when the ladies withdrew. The separation of the sexes at Rosings signalled the beginning of a tedious period. Lady Catherine’s never-ending monologues often induced drowsiness among the ladies after the rich dinner they had just eaten.
However, on this particular evening, a pleasant diversion awaited Elizabeth. Instead of entering the drawing-room, Miss Darcy invited her and Anne to the music room, explaining to the rest of the party that Miss Bennet wished to rehearse before performing. Without waiting to hear Lady Catherine’s expected objections, they quickly retreated, hearing her ladyship’s voice protesting and calling them back as the door closed behind them. Anne timidly excused herself once in the hall. She departed, almost running up the stairs towards her apartment, leaving the two ladies alone yet far from displeased.
They watched Anne as she left; a single glance exchanged between them was enough to convey all they felt—a shared regret that the young woman, who ought to have delighted in all she was and all she possessed, appeared instead as an unhappy prisoner in her own home.
Once in the beautiful music room, Elizabeth looked gratefully at Miss Darcy, who responded with a small smile. “I tend to be polite, but facing Lady Catherine is sometimes difficult. I am not used to harsh words or confrontation at dinner.” But immediately, she blushed as it looked like she was criticising her aunt, and that was something not taught by her upbringing. “You see, she has this disastrous effect on me—”
Elizabeth began to play while Miss Darcy continued to speak. “Fitzwilliam was right. My father took equal care of us both…as you said your father would—”
A slight discord in the otherwise harmonious music drew Miss Darcy’s attention, causing her to pause and study Elizabeth intently. The latter’s eyes were fixed on the keys, though her flushed face and neck betrayed a deep unease. Elizabeth’s discomposure was unmistakable. Having spent sufficient time amidst London society, Georgiana was well aware that young ladies were adept at speaking on any topic—a practice she neither admired nor endorsed. In the face of such intimate and mortifying revelations concerning her family, Miss Elizabeth’s frustration mirrored the very sentiment Georgiana herself would have felt in similar circumstances.
“I am sorry,” Miss Darcy murmured, genuinely troubled, blushing herself.
“No, please do not be. I can discuss any subject with you…but…” Elizabeth did not continue, certain that the clever young lady had understood. It was strange how close she felt to Mr Darcy’s sister after less than two hours spent together and how they shared ideas, principles, and even emotions.
It was a great pleasure to discover Miss Darcy to be the opposite of her brother—shy, warm, and eager to befriend. Her presence at Rosings suddenly made Elizabeth’s stay more enjoyable. Before that evening, she had hesitated to extend her time in Kent by more than a few days to meet Lady Catherine’s guests. However, spending time with Miss Darcy changed her mind, making her secretly wish to gain a friend in Mr Darcy’s sister.
Miss Darcy also harboured a hidden purpose for her visit to Rosings. The aim of this journey had taken root at Pemberley, where she had spent January and February with her brother. There, unusually, he had let slip a few intriguing thoughtsabout his stay at Netherfield and, more notably, about a young woman he had encountered there. Such minor indiscretions were entirely out of character for him. Gradually, she began to notice a subtle and happy transformation in their relationship, and it was also due to the lady he had met in Hertfordshire. He liked her and could not keep that feeling to himself.
Strange as it might seem, the dramatic events of the previous summer when she had nearly eloped with Mr Wickham had brought about a positive change between them. Suddenly, he no longer saw her as a child needing constant protection but as a young woman who had matured—his sister with whom he could share fragments of his thoughts and feelings. Then, a particular lady had appeared in his life, now identified as Miss Bennet, and that new relationship had evolved even more.
Her brother did not expect her to grasp the full significance of his stories about Hertfordshire or to perceive the depth of his feelings for Elizabeth Bennet, whose name he had never uttered during their time at Pemberley. Yet, everything became clear when a letter from Lady Catherine arrived in London, mentioning that Miss Bennet was visiting her cousin, Mr Collins, and intended to stay a few more days.
Confronted with his intense emotions, Georgiana realised everything he had shared at Pemberley was about that young lady. At that moment, the desire to meet Miss Bennet became utterly compelling.
“I must confess that I am not particularly pleased to perform this evening,” said Elizabeth. “I am far from being an accomplished player.”
“Allow me to assure you that is not true.”
“Your technique is superior, I am certain,” Elizabeth replied, “Your brother mentioned that you studied under a renowned master. I, on the other hand, have never studied withanyone. Everything I know, I discovered on my own, through practice or by listening to others play.”
“My technique may be more polished, but you certainly pour your heart into every piece you play. You grasp its deeper meaning, and that is far more significant. If you are ever in London, I shall invite you to our home when Monsieur Touraine comes for my lesson. I am confident you would need only the slightest of suggestions from him—and only regarding your technique. He greatly values students who understand the music they perform.”
