She gave off every impression of being starved for companionship, and once she had overcome her natural reserve, she doted on Auntie and, perhaps more so, on me. I had grave misgivings about befriending her because it could not last. Our worlds were too far apart. What shocks she would suffer were she ever to take it into her head to pay a call at Longbourn on her way south!
However little I wished to care for her in any deep or meaningful way, Mr. Darcy’s sister was, under cover of her superior upbringing and staggering accomplishments, irresistible. The fact that she still suffered from awkwardness in spite of such fastidious polishing as she must have endured made me inclined to love her. It was a terrible business!
“You will never guess, Elizabeth,” she said one morning, bursting in upon us in our little parlor. And then, blushing, “Oh, do forgive me, Miss—”
“If I may call you Georgiana, which I have often longed to do, then you must certainly call me Elizabeth. But what has happened to cause you to look so distressed?” My heart began to pound, and I rose to go to the window. “Surely my uncle is not here yet?” Hehadreturned word with the courier that he would come as soon as arrangements could be made.
“No, no. But we have callers. Sir Hugh is come and with him Lady Pembridge, and”—dropping to a hissing whisper—“she overwhelms me. I cannot think of a word to say to her! And the squire is even worse!”
“Mrs. Annesley?”
“She does what she can, but will you not also come down and bear me up?”
“Certainly.”
“Let me send my maid to Mrs. Jennings then—just for the length of the visit?”
I stood, brushed the wrinkles from my dress, and with Mrs. Annesley leading the way, went down in support of my ruffled young friend.
Sir Hugh, to whom I was introduced forthwith, struck me as a perfect foil for his lady, and the reason for Georgiana’s trepidation became quite clear. They both spoke with decisive confidence, sparing us the lubrication of polite inanities and otherwise shaking us out of our complacency with their rousing manners.
“Well, Miss Darcy, how do you fare this winter?” Lady Pembridge asked briskly.
“Very well, ma’am. And you?”
“Winter agrees with me. And you, Miss Bennet? I was happy to learn you are this lady’s guest.”
“A most fortunate circumstance, ma’am,” I replied. Really, what more could be said? I did not dare ask after anything frivolous and had not the courage to enquire as to the state of her legendary poultry yard, which I suspected was one of her principal concerns. She would instantly detect I did not know how to tell a pullet from a cockerel and issue me a set down on the grounds of stupidity.
Fortunately, her husband, who stood squarely in the room with his arms crossed, began to speak so loudly of his most recent shooting party as to prevent our further struggles to converse. When his eyes lit upon me as though seeing me for the first time, however, he changed the subject and addressed me as though I were a rare antelope.
“So,” he boomed, “this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet of whom I have heard so much.”
Miss Darcy looked appalled at his lack of tact, but I found his style more amusing than offensive. “My word, Sir Hugh!” I laughed. “Do you imply I am infamous or merely a curiosity?”
Mr. Darcy, with studied calculation, took a step and placed himself between us, as though he would shelter me from the man’s further scrutiny, or perhaps shelter the squire from my tart replies. In any case, he managed to change the subject rather adroitly for such a taciturn man.
“We have a new litter in the kennel, have I told you?”
“From the bitch I sold you last year? What a fine pup she was!”
“Yes. Would you like to see her? Parker, have Fee brought up to the house, will you? And send with her the best whelp.”
“Capital! I would like to see how she has developed.”
The conversation, thus diverted, meandered along these lines and drew in Lady Pembridge, who was naturally conversant in the stirring news from a kennel. Georgiana and I sat silent for the most part out of ignorance, both of us striving to look riveted by talk of which hounds would be groomed for the hunt and which would be sold to ladies and gentlemen in Derby who wanted well-bred companions for their children.
Once, Mr. Darcy threw me a look of commiserating apology, and I could not help but smile at him. I must have caught him unawares, and he actually smiled back at me. He was so far from horrible when he smiled that my breath caught under my ribs. I sincerely hoped he did not think I was trying to attract his notice, but I did manage to earn Lady Pembridge’s scrutiny.
“How does Mrs. Jennings?” she asked sharply.
Did she mean to draw my fire in order to protect Mr. Darcy? Gracious! It was almost too much to refrain fromthrowing my handkerchiefat the gentleman in order to agitate her in earnest.
But the squire rescued me from more smiling at Mr. Darcy and the censure of his lady for what she perceived as flirting. He interrupted my reply with regard to my great-aunt, as does any man who regards the concerns of ladies as mere fluff. He apparently took his role as local magistrate seriously, and he also seemed a man who had no patience to wait for his turn to speak once a thought occurred to him, which it must have done, for he abruptly enquired whether anyone at Pemberley had seen the stragglers Mr. Arneson had reported were coming down from Yorkshire.
Mr. Darcy smoothly denied this, but the subject must have also reminded Sir Hugh of yet another of his magisterial concerns.
“Oh, I say, Darcy, I have been meaning to ask you, what do you hear of Wickham these days?”
