P&P200: Lady Catherine Makes a Match
Elizabeth had known, when she became mistress of Pemberley, pretty much what that was, and meant; she had been a visitor to the house before her marriage, and what part its beauties and worth played in her volte face decision in marrying its master, was a subject only she, with a conscious, saucy smile, was qualified to make. In her heart, however, after a year of marriage, she was satisfied that she would have been the happy wife of Mr. Darcy even were his fortune a hundredth part of what it was, and if Pemberley were not much more than, in the words of Burns, “the lowest cot that ever rose on Scotia’s plain.”
Despite this conviction, certain it was that she enjoyed both her husband’s wealth and his domains to their fullest. The beautiful country life, in a house at once large, elegant, opulent yet unpretending; the happy agreement of its inmates; and the patronage of a very well-conducted and pretty village, testified to the truth of what she had once told Lady Catherine, that “the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to her situation, that she could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.”
Portman Square, 1813
In her imaginings of what her married life was to be, down to the low phaeton with the nice little pair of ponies to take them round the park that Mrs. Gardiner had proposed, Elizabeth had not, somehow, ventured to think much beyond the beautiful wrought-iron palings of that park. She had vaguely known that there would be a house in London, of course, and her mother had infallibly lighted on that knowledge in her very first raptures on hearing the news of her daughter’s engagement.
“Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Every thing that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year!” she had cried.
In spite of her mother’s exclamations, and all her husband had told her in days of courtship, Elizabeth had not quite taken in what Pemberley House was; and even though they had already been resident there on several occasions since their marriage, and now opened the house for the season, she was still not entirely used to the grandeur of being a London hostess in such an important mansion. It was, in fact, a trifle overpowering, and she could only be glad that Mr. Darcy did not much esteem the social life of town, or frequent fashionable circles, only visiting such old family connections as was proper, and retreating back to Derbyshire with decent speed.
Perhaps he himself enjoyed the visiting and being visited rather more than he used, now that he had a charming and witty wife to soften his stern demeanor and make the young couple welcome any where; but a little went a long way. And, while Elizabeth was pleased to have a wider scope for one of her most enjoyable pastimes, human observation, that a sojourn in London provided, her taste was decidedly like her husband’s in preferring a quieter country life most of the year round.
Elizabeth’s happy nature, however, made her at ease wherever she was; when she was at Pemberley she could imagine nothing but heaven so fair; but the London house and the social life it obtained had their bewitchments too.
For Pemberley House commanded a situation in town to make any woman happy. Situated in Portman Square, it had been built in the time of Mr. Darcy’s father, who had commissioned Robert Adam to build a house as beautiful as it was comfortable. It was two doors away from the house of Sir Brook Bridges, Jane Austen’s relation whose country house was Goodnestone in Kent; and across the square from the house built by Elizabeth, Countess of Home, the Jamaican heiress, known as “the Queen of Hell.” This was also Adam-designed, but more palatial, as suited the lady’s aspirational tastes; and Elizabeth hardly knew whether to be glad or sorry that such a personage was no longer there. About Elizabeth Montagu, the social reformer and Blue-stocking, who had also lived in the Square, she had more curiosity; but those were days gone by. The present neighbours, Elizabeth believed, were altogether more unremarkable and staid, though they numbered several viscounts, Earl Grey, and a Prime Minister; and she had not given up hope of catching a glimpse of Mrs. Siddons, who lived close by, in Baker Street.
Mrs. Siddons
Above all things, Pemberley House was comfortable, and Elizabeth had the most charming of double sitting-rooms, looking out into the Square, and papered in apple-green silk, with delightful little Chinese figures dancing on the walls. The bedrooms, upstairs on the first floor, were enchanting, especially the one she shared with her husband, with its elegant French fittings and park view; it opened into their private dressing-rooms and was every thing the most elegant taste could desire. With forethought, Elizabeth had given Lady Catherine a bedroom that was the house’s stateliest and most sumptuous, suited to a visiting Queen. It combined the advantages of being the suite she had always had in her visits, and was farthest from their own chambers.
Being tired from the round of court functions and balls she had been required to attend, and also a little languid from being enceinte, with several months more until her expectations, Elizabeth permitted herself to sleep rather late in the morning. The sun was halfway up over the Portman Square trees, and Mr. Darcy had already left their bed for a ride in the Park with some important gentlemen, before Elizabeth sat up and pulled the sash for the maid, to bring in her chocolate.
After being attired in a simple summer muslin gown, whose floating panels and delicate embroidery modestly concealed her growing shape, Elizabeth made her way down the grand staircase and paused outside her sitting-room. She was surprised to hear voices – Lady Catherine’s above them all, did not startle her with her trumpet tones, but surely there was a gentleman of the party, and who could be there, at this hour, with Mr. Darcy not present?
Curious, Elizabeth pushed open the door and stood, to take in the scene. Lady Catherine was seated in the grandest and most comfortable chair, facing her daughter who was on the sofa with the very handsome young man Elizabeth remembered from the night of their presentation at Court. The one Darcy had been sure was an adventurer.
She concealed her shudder at seeing him so dangerously at ease, actually inside her home, and wondered what to say; but she need not have been at a loss. Maurice Townley rose to his feet at once in the politest manner, made his bow with endearing grace, and came toward her, greeting her like an old friend.
“Mrs. Darcy! It is so good to see you again. Won’t you join our little tete-a-tete? Dear Lady Catherine and charming Miss de Bourgh have been so gracious as to invite me to sit with them this morning, and we have been waiting for you particularly.”
As it was her house and not Lady Catherine’s, nor yet Mr. Townley’s, Elizabeth was taken aback by the general effrontery. She barely moved her lips as she murmured “Good morning.”
“I know,” he said with sympathy that would have been almost too bewitching if she had known him to be a gentleman of character, “it must seem very odd and presumptuous to you, so lately have I been introduced to your acquaintance.”
He looked deeply into her eyes, and held out his hand, which she barely touched, distrustfully. Nevertheless he held onto it, with a smile that was almost a simper.
“There! Now we are friends; and if you think the course of friendship has moved with too great rapidity, I may only offer my very great admiration and respect for Lady Catherine and – “ he paused for emphasis, “and Miss de Bourgh, as an excuse.” His look included both of them in its sweep, with such eloquence that each of them sighed, thinking it meant for her.
“Of Lady Catherine,” he continued, “I can barely dare venture to speak, much less to praise. Who has not heard of my lady’s fine and judicious judgment? She is famed throughout the kingdom for such powers of mind as perhaps no woman has ever before shown. Wisdom – strength of character – perfect decision – it is altogether admirable!”
Lady Catherine condescended to nod her approval. “It is true,” she said, “that I am famed for my powers of observation, of judgement, of a sort of sense that is quite out of the common way, I concede. But I am not known throughout the kingdom. Far from that. There are many counties into which I have never ventured – perhaps most of them – and I cannot suppose that my reputation can have spread so far as, say, the far North, though it is true that I am known throughout Derbyshire, thanks to my residence with my nephew.”
“Oh Lady Catherine!” Townley sighed, holding up his handsome hands, as if there were so much more he could say, if she would only believe it. “Not known all over the country! Only one of your modesty could think it. Your qualities of mind, so peculiarly the aristocrat, are as well known as your daughter’s delicacy, beauty, and peerless high breeding.”
“Oh, Mr. Townley!” cried Miss de Bourgh, turning very pink.
“I am glad to find you all in such a state of general admiration,” said Elizabeth acerbically, “only it takes me by surprise, as I was not aware that Mr. Darcy had given you an invitation this morning.”
“I should be delighted to meet Mr. Darcy,” replied Mr. Townley, “it was a matter of great regret to me, not to find him within when I came to call.”
“But I am sure no gentleman such as yourself would venture to call without an invitation,” Elizabeth probed.
“Heaven on earth, Mrs. Darcy!” exclaimed Lady Catherine impatiently. “Surely you must know that it was I who issued the invitation, and sent round a message to Maurice’s rooms this morning.”
“Maurice!” exclaimed Elizabeth, taken aback. “You are on such terms as that?”
“Really, Mrs. Darcy, you may be my nephew’s wife, but if you will pardon me for saying so, that speech borders on being impertinent, just the same. Is not my nephew’s house the same as my own? Darcy is the closest relation I have on earth. He has always been entirely welcome to do as he likes at Rosings, and considers it another home; and so it is only natural that the courtesy should be entirely reciprocated.”
“This is the first I have heard of it,” Elizabeth observed, “and I must say I do not think my husband would be at all pleased at this visit by Mr. Townley.”
“Oh, my dear Mrs. Darcy, do not look so severe upon me,” said Mr. Townley, with his most engaging smile. “You must be aware that I am making my visit with an interest – with a view of creating a nearer interest…”
“Can you mean – ?” she exclaimed. “But you only met Miss de Bourgh last Saturday!”
His winsome smile did not waver. “Ah, but there have been other meetings of which you may not have been aware, and, if I do not mistake my dear Anne’s wishes…” He moved toward Miss de Bourgh sitting on the couch, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it. She turned peony pink.
“Anne! Is this true, then? Are you engaged?” Elizabeth asked her, shocked.
“To be sure it is an engagement,” Anne’s mother answered indignantly. “It has not all been fully settled yet, but the matter was on the point of being decided, when you interrupted. Maurice would never do what is improper, and of course he asked my permission first, which I have given him with perfect approbation.”
“You have agreed this match? Upon my word, I find that a most remarkable proceeding, Lady Catherine. To engage your daughter to a man unknown, of whose family, whose property, you know nothing – I could not have believed it of you.”
“You dare to question my judgment?” demanded Lady Catherine majestically.
“On this matter, I do.”
“You have nothing to say about it. Anne is my daughter, and I will arrange matters for her good, as I think best, as is my right.”
“I daresay, madam. Am I to believe, then, that you have already sufficiently acquainted yourself with his situation, his antecedents?”
“Certainly. Maurice has assured me himself that he has a very fine fortune. Not so fine as the de Bourghs, of course, nor is the family of the same degree of nobility; but gracious goodness, a young couple has no need of two fortunes to make their happiness, and I collect that Anne will be in very safe hands with Maurice. His features alone announce his nobility of character and mind. But I could not expect you to see that.”
“And you, Anne – are you satisfied? What is your opinion of Mr. Townley?” asked Elizabeth incredulously.
“Oh!” exclaimed Anne, her face suffusing with the effort to say eloquently all she felt, “I think – I think he is beautiful!”
“My darling,” he exclaimed, sat by her side, and drew her arm strongly under his, while gazing intensely into her eyes. Her breathing came faster and her eyelashes fluttered. He looked up at Elizabeth with a humorous smile.
“To say the truth, Mrs. Darcy, I hardly know which I am more in love with – the mother or the daughter!”
“This surpasses credence,” murmured Elizabeth, raising her eyes to heaven. “However, Mr. Darcy will be at home shortly, and he will have something to say to all this.”
“Nothing to the purpose,” insisted Lady Catherine. “He is not Anne’s guardian, and has no control over her fortune, or mine. I had intended that the courtship could be carried out decorously under his most respectable roof, and they be married from this parish; but if Darcy means to be disagreeable, Rosings will do as well. Mr. Collins will do as he is told, make all the arrangements, and post the banns.”
At this moment horses were heard, and Mr. Darcy, riding side by side with his cousin, came clattering along the mews and into the stable.
Townley rose to his feet with alarm. “It is growing late,” he said hastily, “and I must not impose on your hospitality longer. I would by no means wish to be in the way to give Mr. Darcy any displeasure.”
“Oh, now you see that,” said Elizabeth ironically. “Well, we shall soon see what he has to say, just as soon as he and Colonel Fitzwilliam put up their horses. We shall have a regular family council. Won’t you like that, Mr. Townley?”
He did not look very much as though he would.
Detail of Chinese embroidery, 18th century
P&P200: A Partner for Anne de Bourgh
Much to Elizabeth’s annoyance, the first two weeks of their London visit was entirely taken up with assembling the proper gowns and all the appointments and furbelows for the grand presentation at St. James’ Palace. Kitty was wildly excited, and squealed and screamed every time another package was brought into the house, which, what with beaded slippers, satin sashes, diamante head-dresses, lappets to secure ostrich-feathers, hoops, turbans, and draperies, was not unseldom.
Georgiana bore it all with more equanimity, submitting to the dictates of her aunt, Lady Catherine, about every portion of her dress; and Anne de Bourgh was even less affected, rarely varying her silent demeanor and sullen air. Lady Catherine, for her part, was almost as voluble as Kitty, and despite her disdain for Elizabeth’s young sister, there were moments when the pair seemed to be almost in agreement, as they were the only two who really took an excited interest in the event.
Lady Catherine’s purpose became obvious to Elizabeth, as the planning of the ensembles went forward. Her Ladyship was in her element because she would be the center of all eyes, in a position of importance at the court, as the person presenting three such young ladies as the sister, sister-in-law, and cousin of Mr. Darcy of Pemberley; and alas, Mrs. Darcy too.
For there was no help for it. They were told on all sides that it was entirely necessary and proper that Elizabeth must be presented to the Queen and to Society on her marriage, as a young married woman of her position, should be. She saw no necessity for it, Mr. Darcy did not care about it, but Lady Catherine, having been convinced by custom, was imperious in her certainty, and after conference with her husband, Elizabeth felt it was best to submit quietly on such an unimportant matter, rather than risk a ruction with Lady Catherine.
It also occurred to her that her presence on the evening might help to smooth any distressed or agitated feelings Georgiana or Kitty might have, though she could not presume to be of any use to Miss de Bourgh. So she submitted to standing for long periods being fitted, thankful that the early part of her expectancy was over, and she felt equal to the demands of society and fashion.
As a young matron, she would wear a hooped gown (old-fashioned hoops were a Court requirement that the elderly Queen Charlotte insisted upon) of sapphire satin with silver tassels, and a turbanned headdress with the Darcy sapphires. The young ladies would all be attired in white satin, Anne with silver lace adornments, Georgiana with lilac tissue, and Kitty with pink crepe. Lady Catherine herself, of course, was to be more magnificent than all the others together: she was having fashioned a ruby velvet gown that clung severely to her stately figure, with gold spangling and gold fringes, and the de Bourgh parure of rubies, tiara, and stomacher, necklace and bracelets.
“I hoped,” Elizabeth sighed to her husband as they were getting ready for bed after a long, long dressmaker-filled day, “to be spending time with the Gardiners, walking in the park, and going to the picture-galleries. That is what I hoped from a visit to London.”
“Are you very much disappointed?” asked Darcy, concerned, putting his breeches on a chair and reaching for his night-shirt. ”If you are, we must put a stop to all this.”
“To stop it!” she exclaimed. “Are you mad, to think there is any force on earth that could stop Lady Catherine? And what about all you have had to spend on this fanciful outfitting? For I have noticed that all the bills have been sent to you,” she finished unhappily. “Whereas I would not wish to waste your money for the world.”
He shrugged. “At least Lady Catherine is paying for Anne,” he said. “But I don’t care about the cost, unless it makes you ill or unhappy, Elizabeth. That must not be.”
“Oh, do not worry about me,” she answered with a little laugh. “It is of no great import. Goodness knows, Kitty is in a perfect Elysium of her own desire, and I do not believe Georgiana can be spoilt.”
“No, I am sure of that,” he agreed.
“So let it go forward. The horrid evening is almost upon us, and we will soon be rational again.”
“Will we?” he said with a smile, and pulled her down to lie beside him.
*****
It was over. Elizabeth had been presented as the wife of Mr. Darcy, and the three young ladies had made their curtsies as well. Now there was a grand collation, beneath all the crystal and glass candelabra of St. James’s Palace, and Elizabeth could sit on a small and uncomfortable ornate French chair and eat ices.
Darcy stood by her, and they were able to amuse themselves with sotto voce comments, since Lady Catherine was not near them; she had found a group of her contemporaries, doughty older ladies, and they were sitting at a card-table, nodding their high feathers, sparkling their jewels, waving their fans, and bragging about their children.
“My Anne,” Lady Catherine said, “is the most remarkable girl; there is not another in the kingdom who can surpass her for real nobility, and she is sure to be snapped up in her first season.”
“She has no title, has she?” loftily said Lady Engadine. “Now my Maria is a Countess in her own right. With her fortune, she is sure to go sooner than your Anne.”
“Really, I beg to differ with you both,” put in Viscountess Marchbanks. “My Caroline has both beauty, nobility and wealth, and she is young. Only eighteen. I always think that when young ladies come out when they are elderly, there is something wrong with them.”
“Wrong!” gasped Lady Engandine. “Why, Maria is barely over twenty.”
“Twenty six,” said the Viscountess curtly. “I know, because your governess came to us after she had finished Maria’s education – these seven or eight years ago. And Anne de Bourgh must be the same age.”
“Yes, yes she is,” hastily said Lady Catherine, not wishing to reveal that her daughter was much closer to thirty. “But what of it? She is the most delightful girl in the kingdom, and any young man would be fortunate to get her – though of course I would not part with her but to some one of rank and fortune.”
All three ladies looked rather grimly at Anne, who was sitting listlessly at her mother’s side, having refused all partners.
“Anne, this is absurd, I must have you dance,” hissed Lady Catherine at her. “I shall bid Darcy to find you a partner.”
“I am too tired, mama,” said Anne indifferently. “And I do hate it so.”
At that moment, a young man who had been standing nearby and watching the ladies for some little time, approached Lady Catherine, and bowed politely.
“Excuse me, I believe – tell me if I am in error, but you are Lady Catherine de Bourgh, the widow of Sir Lewis, are you not?”
“That is true – I am,” she answered in some surprise.
“Well – my father knew him many years ago. They were at school together, and I remember him saying that Sir Lewis was the finest young fellow in the world. To think of meeting you here!”
“Oh, is that so?” said Lady Catherine, with something close to a simper. He was a very handsome young man, in his late twenties, with dark curly hair and expressive eyes. “Whom do I have the honour? – “
“I am Sir Maurice Townley,” he said with a charming air and bow.
“Maurice? That has a French sound to it.”
“Yes; my mother was a French countess. My father of course was of the Townleys who have lived in Bedfordshire time out of mind; of very good estate.”
“Is that so? Are you acquainted with the Huntingtons?”
“Oh yes! I was at Oxford with the eldest son.”
“And are you an eldest son?” the Viscountess put forth directly.
“Alas, no; Townley Castle is my brother’s property, and care. But I have been well provided for, and have my own property, an adjoining estate, where I breed horses.”
“What brings you to London, and to Court?” interrogated Lady Engandine suspiciously.
“Ah, a farmer must take a wife!” he said with a deprecating air. “And where better than here could I find a wife of the best bloodlines, the highest breeding?”
“You speak truly, Sir Maurice,” conceded Lady Catherine. The ladies fell silent for a moment and looked sideways at one another, sure that this paragon would ask one of their daughters to dance – but which one?
“If I may,” he said smoothly, with a beautiful bow before Anne, “this is your daughter, Lady Catherine, and I must confess that I came this way because I was so bewitched by her uncommon modesty, and beauty of a lady-like kind that you so seldom see.”
Lady Catherine and Anne looked nothing alike, but they now wore identical open-mouthed expressions.
“I notice,” he said to her earnestly, “that you have not danced; and I cannot blame you, for where is a candidate suitable for your hand – even for the span of a single dance? But I must entreat you – dare I? to stand up for me, for ever so short a time. It would mean worlds to me.”
His dark eyes looked deeply into hers, and Anne stood like an automaton and gave him her hand. He swept her away, and soon they were revolving with the couples in the center of the room, in a new and shocking dance from Vienna called the Waltz. Anne did not know it, of course, but with Maurice’s arm around the waist, steering her, she followed, mesmerized. The ladies watched speechlessly.
Elizabeth was not struck that way. “My love,” she asked, “who is that very handsome man, waltzing – waltzing of all things – with Anne?”
His eyes narrowed. “I have no idea,” he said, “but I don’t like the look of him at all. I shall find out at once. If he is not a rogue I have never seen one.”
He strolled over to where Lady Catherine was sitting, leaving Elizabeth to distractedly watch her two charges, Georgiana and Kitty, who were enjoying themselves with their partners, two young men who were the sons of neighbors in Derbyshire.
“What is the name of the gentleman with whom Anne is dancing, Aunt Catherine?” interposed Darcy.
“Why, Darcy, how good of you to take an interest in your cousin. That is Sir Maurice Townley, of the Bedfordshire Townleys, to be sure.”
“I see. And do you know any thing about them?”
“I cannot exactly recollect at the moment, but we will look him up in the book when we get home. Do you know the family?” she turned to the other ladies.
But they only made negative replies, cast down their eyes, and tried to conceal their smiles. They were as certain as Darcy that Townley was a rogue, and with such an one, Miss de Bourgh’s fate would be sealed, to her discredit.
“Lord Stenmouth is Bedfordshire born. I see him over there, and will make inquiries.”
Darcy stalked over to a knot of older gentlemen directly, and was finished talking to them before Anne and Maurice completed their second dance.
Returning to his aunt, he bent and spoke urgently into her ear. “Aunt Catherine, Stenmouth knows nothing of such a family, and suspects that this young man may be an adventurer. I must insist that you not permit Anne to dance with him again.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense! I never saw such a charming young man, and with what manners. They positively announce his gentle breeding.”
“Manners! Aunt Catherine, you cannot be too careful after such a warning. What if he is a penniless fortune seeker? Would you wish Anne to dance with such a man?”
“He cannot be that. He is as well dressed as you yourself are,” she said, looking pointedly at his waistcoat and neck cloth, which were simple evening wear, not over ornamented. “Indeed, rather better. I think I am a good judge of character, Darcy, indeed am far famed for it. Therefore I must insist you mind your own business, which is Georgiana. I will not have you interfere in what may be a – a most promising friendship. I assure you he was very much struck with Anne!”
He looked at her incredulously. “And does that not make you suspicious?” he asked. “What is it that attracts him? Her appearance – or her having been presented at Court, as coming from a very great and wealthy house?”
“What of that? He would not be here if he was not worthy of an invitation to Court himself.”
“My dear Aunt – if you were to know how every one in the room got here, you would not say such a thing. All manner of riffraff find a means of admittance to Court.”
“You will allow me to judge for Anne, myself.”
“Very well. I have warned you, I will say no more.”
Troubled, he returned to Elizabeth, and they watched anxiously as the pair danced succeeding dances with an inappropriate exclusivity that began to attract comment.
“I hope,” said Elizabeth, “that at least this evening will be an end of it; we will go home, and this man will be heard from no more. Dear me! This is unfortunate.”
“Most,” said Darcy unhappily.
At the end of an evening, at which Anne looked more and more strangely exalted, and her mother puffed with pride, as their party stood to go, Maurice Townley whispered a long aside to Anne, and made his bows and then his exit.
Darcy sighed. “Well at least,” he said, “there is an end to that. And good riddance to him.”
“Darcy! How can you say such a thing,” said his aunt, her eyes brighter and more animated than he had ever seen in her before. “I will have you know that our dear Maurice will be calling upon Anne tomorrow, and that I have every intention of inviting him back for a visit to Rosings!”
Pride and Prejudice 200
Elizabeth and Darcy by Jane Odiwe
What an exciting time I had last week! It was an honour to be so involved with the events of the 200 year anniversary of Pride and Prejudice. Below is the interview I had with David Sillito, the Arts Correspondent from the BBC, which also features our lovely Abigail Reynolds. I wish that they’d shown the whole interview as well as all the other wonderful authors who were interviewed too. If only we could all have been a part of it and together on this special day-now, that would have been a fantastic after party! I was so pleased to see our genre getting special recognition and I hope readers will see how much we’re motivated to write (and paint) by our love for that special lady and her books, Jane Austen!
Later on that day I travelled to Bath to take part in the Jane Austen Centre Readathon of Pride and Prejudice which was streamed live on the internet. Thank you to all the people who left such encouraging comments. It was a lot of fun and I was able to read four chapters in the end!
Jane Odiwe
P&P200: Lizzy and Darcy on Twelfth Night
Would Lizzy and Darcy have celebrated the New Year?
The answer is yes and no. Little do we know it, but our New Year’s Eve celebration with its fireworks and revelling is descended from another tradition, that of Twelfth Night, the last and twelfth day of Christmas, celebrated traditionally in England on the 5th or 6th of January, though in some areas it coincided with the turning of the new year. The celebration was traditionally deliberately boisterous. This was because the intention was drive away evil spirits from the land so the trees could grow. Bonfires, shooting, loud banging and hitting the trees with sticks were all part and parcel of the event.
In Jane Austen’s day in Kent, Twelfth Night would have been very much alive, particularly since Kent was known for its apple orchards, and the focus of the wassailing was the apple tree and the agricultural community’s hopes for a new year of fertility and plenty. Jane Austen would certainly have been wassailed by the local population and asked for a cup of wassail ale or mulled hard cider, though perhaps given that her father was a clergyman, it was unlikely JA would have participated in what were clearly pagan rituals.
For P&P200 I thought it might be fun to have an excerpt in which Lizzy and Darcy take part in a Wassail/Twelfth Night celebration. Continue reading
P&P200 The Darcys Visit Lady Catherine at Rosings: A Two-Part Story, Part 1
Pemberley in Spring
May opened on Pemberley, Elizabeth’s first spring as mistress of the house, and she watched with delight the blossoming of the park. Primroses, campion, Canterbury bells spread over the meadows, and in the formal gardens near the house vivid blue delphinius, gay hollyhocks and foxgloves were starting to nod. The scent of the lavender rose up in her nostrils as Elizabeth wandered to hear heart’s delight, sometimes with a sister, sometimes happy to lean on the strong arm of her husband.
jonquil
Although she was expecting her first child in the autumn, Lizzy felt well and strong, and seldom did she spend a full day indoors. The wedding-visits round the countryside had finally been concluded, but there were still comings and goings amongst her own family. The Gardiners had returned to London, taking Mary with them, and from there she would return to Longbourn, where Mrs. Bennet, accustomed to five daughters, could not entirely do without one. The Bingleys had been visiting Longbourn, and now returned north, bringing Kitty, and were now visiting Pemberley. Continue reading
P&P200: Lady Catherine Condescends to Inspect the Happiness at Pemberley (Part II)
Dinner
The dinner, to the relief of many, was at an end. But as the ladies prepared to withdraw, Lady Catherine remained seated. “I wish,” she announced, “to have a private word with my nephew.”
Mr. Gardiner was plainly relieved to follow his wife and the other ladies, and aunt and nephew were left to themselves.
“It is time,” she told Darcy, “that you explain what made you so forget yourself as to contract this marriage. Oh, do not agitate yourself; I say nothing more against the lady. What’s done is done. She is pretty, and she is clever, and does not seem entirely without some acceptable connections. I confess I am relieved to see Pemberley still being run as it ought. More or less,” she amended.
“Then I hope you are beginning to discover what my Elizabeth really is,” Darcy replied.
She shrugged. “You must know that my astonishment and dismay were not roused by the lady individually, Darcy. No, it is that you, descended from noblemen on your mother’s side, and from an ancient, respectable family on your father’s, should so forget what you owe to your family, and to their shades. To think that you should so forget your pride!”
“Ah, my pride,” said Darcy, leaning back in his throne-like dinner chair. “Yes. You have judged rightly, Aunt Catherine. It is to my great benefit, that I have loosened the bonds of my pride. This, I acknowledge, I owe entirely to Elizabeth.”
A smile overspread his face, making it really handsome. “I fail to see,” said Lady Catherine indignantly, “what there is to smile about in such a situation. Your dear, late mother, I know, would be grieved to the heart.”
“Not so, aunt,” he said earnestly. “I loved my dear mother, and she and my father were all that was good; but you know, they lived in another age, and ideas have changed with the times.”
Brandy
“Heaven and earth! I hope not so,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, falling back in her seat, and indicating with gestures that she wanted more brandy.
Darcy duly poured, and then leaned forward to explain. “Yes. In their day, and earlier, it was considered as truth that some sets of people were better than others; that noblefolk, in particular, were intrinsically superior to others.”
“What kind of Revolutionary talk is this?” demanded Lady Catherine. “Have you been corrupted by emissaries from France? Have you become a Leveler? Good God, Darcy, whatever would become of England, if every body thought like you!”
“But England is what I am thinking of, aunt,” he said seriously. “God knows I love and will defend my house, my village, my country, with all my heart and strength and might. But England is not perfect. You must know this to be true – only look, yourself, at all you try to do to improve her.”
Lady Catherine was silent, not wanting to contradict that she did a great deal.
“Yes. Even in your parish, there are many poor, who would work if they could; and some people live in great palaces while others are out in the cold.”
“True. But that is the way of the world. ‘The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate,’ you know, Darcy. That is how things are ordered. If not so, there would be chaos.”
“But we who have feeling hearts, and comfortable lives, have a duty to try to make the world better, Aunt Catherine.”
“This is not telling me why you married that girl,” she said ironically.
“It does. By Elizabeth I was taught that there are not such differences between people; and it is wicked to perceive yourself as something superior, when we are all God’s children.”
“Not superior? But, naturally we are superior, Darcy. What can you mean? We are the masters, made to rule, and lead, and others are made to follow and serve.”
“Well, I do not wish to debate philosophy with you,” he said, with a tone of finality in his voice, “only to make you see that, being brought up to think as you do, had the tendency to make me highly arrogant and indeed obnoxious; and it took a very superior woman to teach me my real place in the world – and hers.”
“I see,” Lady Catherine sneered, “you will be wound round your wife’s apron-strings. She has you right where she intended you to be, from the start.”
“Oh, Aunt Catherine – if you only knew! Elizabeth did not even wish to marry me, I assure you, she refused me at first, so strenuously. I can hardly be glad enough that I was able to win her in the end.”
His aunt looked skeptical, and sipped at her brandy. “Really, there are no limits to what a scheming woman can make a man believe,” she observed, “and she is one of the cleverest women in the world, to make you think what you do. If you could only have seen her, when I had my interview with her; she was positively obstinate in her insistence on having you. Clever, indeed.”
“If you wish to think so, aunt, there is no use trying to convince you otherwise. But I believe that if you were able to watch us for the long lifetime we hope will be ours, you would see a couple who bid fair to be the happiest pair in the world.”
He rose, and she followed. “Stay,” she said, laying her hand on his arm. “You must know, Darcy, that I love you tenderly, and indeed I do wish you every happiness.”
He smiled down at her, and his eyes sparkled. “I hoped you could feel so, dear aunt.”
They joined the others in the sitting-room again, and Lady Catherine went over to Elizabeth, who looked alarmed.
Sofa
“Mrs. Darcy,” said Lady Catherine, addressing her so for the first time, “I am not a fool, and can accept facts as I see them. My natural discernment was always remarkable; and while many people of my age refuse to acknowledge change, my mind has a singular penetration. I am ready to believe that you may become a good wife to my nephew, and fit chatelaine of Pemberley, on one condition.”
“And what is that?” asked Elizabeth, with more curiosity than trepidation.
“Have the patience to let me explain myself. You know that I was own sister to Darcy’s mother, and I suffered bitterly when she died. I loved the lad as my own; and all that I have said and done since he was drawn in by your allurements, was only for his own good.”
“Yes, I can understand that,” said Elizabeth quietly.
“I must and shall continue to have an interest in all his concerns, and I will grant you that he at least looks well and happy – at present.”
“That is very good of you.”
“Silence, if you please! Impertinence is uncalled-for, when I am conceding so much as this. You know that my brother, the Earl, is provided for in his line. The de Bourgh line continues in another branch, and I still have hopes that my Anne may marry, though if she does her husband must take her name.” She fell into reverie.
Elizabeth, and the rest of the company, waited patiently for her to resume.
“The Darcy line is not my own by blood, yet I have respect for it, honouring my beloved sister’s marriage as I do. So I would give a great deal to see the succession of Darcy’s house ensured.” She paused, with a meaningful look.
“Aunt Catherine, that is none of your business,” Darcy exploded, really annoyed at last. “You are not entitled to know such personal concerns of ours! We have not been married a sixmonth.”
Elizabeth looked at him fondly. “My dear – may I speak?”
He looked surprised. “Why – if you will. It is your own choice.”
Immediately, though with some natural shyness, and hesitancy of manner, she gave his aunt, and all the party, to understand that there was reason to expect that the coming autumn would bring a new small shade to Pemberley.
To say that Lady Catherine was pleased, is only to speak the truth, for she was very eager that all connected with her should prosper grandly, and for Darcy to have a son and heir would tend to the well being of his house. If she nursed a hope that the young mother might not survive the process, and a second wife of a better class of society be required, she at least brought herself to a tolerable enough state of politeness enough not to say so.
Georgiana, and the Gardiners, were truly and unfeignedly delighted, and the rest of the evening was not enough for all their expressions of happiness.
Bed
As they mounted the stairs at night, after seeing their guests off to their respective bedrooms, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were much relieved, and well content.
“The old Gorgon, she was positively civil at last,” Darcy said with relief.
“I thought she might be, when she heard all.”
“Did you? I confess, I feared she might go into one of her rages, and I could not tolerate your being exposed to such unpleasantness.”
Elizabeth smiled a secret smile. “You need not have worried. I have been matched with Lady Catherine before, and you see I did not lose the battle.”
Darcy looked amused. “Very true. Though I don’t like thinking of myself as the prize in spoils of war. You are the prize, my Elizabeth, and our little one to be.”
“And you are mine. Ours,” she declared, placing her candle by the bedside, and loosening her dark tresses so they fell down along her white nightgown and the satin counterpane. “Though some might say that the prize is Pemberley.”
P&P200: Lady Catherine Condescends to Inspect the Happiness at Pemberley (Part I)
Pemberley
The approach to Pemberley was on a giant scale – the wide valley, the great house, the vast garden before and forested land rising behind. The inmates of the house, the owner and his family and servants alike, could see from very far off, across the valley, when carriages approached; and they had their choice of windows to watch from, as Pemberley numbered them in the hundreds.
Darcy and Elizabeth both paused for a moment in their busy lives to gaze out the long windows of the library at the bridge that crossed the river. A carriage and six were crossing at a rapid clip, and Darcy was able to identify the arms even from that distance.
“Yes, it’s Aunt Catherine.” He did not sigh, and his small philosophical shrug was barely noticeable.
Elizabeth peered out apprehensively. “You can’t possibly see the de Bourgh arms from this distance, without the eyes of an eagle,” she argued. “I do see that the coach is painted purple. I thought only royalty could have carriages that colour.”
The Bridge
Mary, who was on a visit and always spent all her time at Pemberley in the library, shut her book. “That is true,” she said, “Lady Catherine is breaking with protocol if she has painted her carriage purple. A magistrate for her county, ought to know better.”
Darcy did not appear to hear her, and took out his watch. “From where she is, it will take just under ten minutes until she is handed out of her carriage. If we know what is good for us, we had better not fail to be standing in the portico to welcome her.”
“Yes, indeed,” said Elizabeth, following him swiftly out of the room. “And we had better give the signal to Mrs. Reynolds.”
“She already knows,” Mr. Darcy said with a slight smile, “don’t you suppose the intelligence has traveled to her offices as swiftly as to us?”
“Oh, yes. And the whole kitchen staff has been working so hard these two days. The pies are like nothing ever seen outside of France before, I am told. Is it not a pity that the menu is likely to be judged a failure, and myself to blame?”
“My dear,” he protested, “you would invite her! It was you who over-persuaded me. I should not, on my own judgment, have ever invited Aunt Catherine here again, after the things she said about you.”
“Never mind,” she said hastily, putting her hand gently on his lips. “I mean to make a fresh start with her, and forgive the past – if she will allow me.”
“Always generous Elizabeth,” he murmured, taking her hand and kissing it.
The House
The carriage was drawn up, the appropriate servants opened and shut the doors, and Lady Catherine herself was standing in the hall. She looked from Darcy to his wife with sharp, disapproving eyes, and gave her head a small sententious shake, which made her high feathers quiver, bird like. Darcy bowed, and Elizabeth made a respectful curtsey.
“Welcome, Aunt,” he said politely. “My wife and I are glad to see you at Pemberley again.”
“Your wife! She at least has never seen me at Pemberley before,” said Lady Catherine scornfully, turning a cold face toward Elizabeth. “But sometimes we live to see things that we never expected to countenance.”
“You must be tired, Lady Catherine,” said Elizabeth civilly. “Your room has been made ready, perhaps you may like to rest.”
“Rest!” Lady Catherine thumped her silver-topped stick. “I have only driven from Bakewell this morning, and I am not so old for such a drive to completely overset me. I will take some tea. In Lady Anne’s green Empress Catherine service, if you please. Our father – the Earl you know,” she enunciated for Elizabeth’s benefit, “brought it home from his Russian trip.”
The Catherine the Great service
She turned back to Darcy. “I am glad to see at least, that the drive has not been altered, nor the beeches cut down.”
Darcy’s eyebrows lifted. “Cut down? Who would cut down such a noble line of trees? What could give you such an idea, Aunt?”
“I have heard of a great many shocking alterations,” she said sourly. “It is common talk all over the countryside.”
Darcy and Elizabeth wisely ignored this, as they walked through the grand saloon at a pace that accommodated Lady Catherine, who stopped every few steps to peer sharply at some object or inspect some vista.
Turkish carpet
“There! This is not the original Turkey carpet, I know. And the crystals on your mother’s fine French chandeliers – they look peculiarly dark and muddy. It breaks my heart to see them so.” She cast an accusing eye at Elizabeth. “I knew the new – wife would not be able to manage a large staff properly,” she declared contemptuously. “How could it be expected, coming from such a family? She has not been brought up to it.”
“I had the Turkish carpet moved into my room, when making some improvements before our wedding,” Darcy informed her coolly. “I feared too many pairs of feet trod over it here. A good many visitors come to tour round Pemberley during the year, you know, Aunt.”
She was only partly mollified. “Certainly, you have the right, as Master of Pemberley. But I am not sure the dear old house is properly cleaned.” She ran a finger over the pink Italian marble fireplace at the head of the saloon. “I suppose your wife has sacked half the staff, and brought in her own favorites. Flibbertigibbets not trained properly in the art of dusting, no doubt. For it is an art, you know,” she nodded significantly.
“The staff is exactly as it was before our marriage,” Darcy told her calmly, “not one change, except a new lady’s maid for my wife.” He and Elizabeth smiled into each other’s eyes.
“And I know Reynolds has the chandelier crystals dipped in lemon water quite regularly,” Elizabeth spoke up, “she told me so.”
“Silence! No true lady speaks of her housekeeping. And if you have hired only one new lady’s maid, then who, may I ask, will be attending me?”
“Did you not bring your maid?” asked Darcy, surprised. “I was sure I saw some one with you in the carriage.”
“And we were hoping to see Miss de Bourgh,” added Elizabeth, “and Mrs. Jenkinson.”
“You speak of my daughter? You, who have taken her appointed, nay sacred, place – I do not know how you can dare – “
“Aunt Catherine,” said Darcy firmly, with a look in his eye that succeeded in quelling her, “this is not the way to speak to Mrs. Darcy. Is Anne unwell, that she could not come?”
“Yes,” answered Lady Catherine ungraciously, “she did not want – that is, she has a weak throat, and I fear quinsy, so I left her at home with her companion. I am here with Akers only. Where is she? Where is that fool woman? I want her to take my tippet. You keep it stiflingly hot in here. What is the use of a great fire in this hall, in April too, if we are not to sit here? I hope this does not mean there is a new regime of extravagance abroad at Pemberley.”
Tippet
“Mrs. Akers has been brought to the servant’s hall for a hot drink and some victuals,” explained Elizabeth. “I will pull the draw, and one of our maids will attend to you. And I thought we might take our tea upstairs in Georgiana’s sitting-room, it is more comfortable than these great state-rooms.”
“Humph! I can see the whole ordering of the place is in complete disarray,” said Lady Catherine with disgust. Before she had finished speaking, a maid had entered, and was quietly helping her off with her ermine-tipped outer coat.
They mounted the stairs, about which Lady Catherine had much to say about proper care of hardwoods, the need to air marble, and the ill advisement of ever permitting a cat to enter a house. The lobby above merited only a brief catalogue of complaints about the placing of its portraits, which had not been changed, though Lady Catherine was sure that they had; but at last they reached Georgiana’s pretty sitting-room. The young lady rose to greet her aunt and be kissed by her.
All were soon seated by the fire, and tea was bringing in, as Lady Catherine surveyed Georgiana’s appearance. “You look well enough,” she said grudgingly, “I hope that the sad demotion from your proper place as mistress of Pemberley has not made you ill.”
Stairs
Georgiana was shy, unwilling to speak at the best of times, and more frightened of her aunt than of most people, but she could not let this pass. “Oh, no, Aunt! I am so happy with my new sister – I do love Elizabeth dearly, and there could be no better mistress of Pemberley.”
“You put a good face on it,” said Lady Catherine dryly, “but I suppose you must, or risk her temper. There may be no end to the petty ways in which such a termagent will torment you when I am gone.”
Georgiana continued to earnestly protest her love for her sister, and Elizabeth did not lift up her eyes, as she wanted to do, but only went on composedly pouring tea.
Mr. Darcy instructed the butler to invite their other guests to join them, if they desired, and in a few minutes Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner entered. With a true ladylike air, Mrs. Gardiner seated herself by Lady Catherine and helped Elizabeth and Georgiana to play hostess, as Elizabeth was uncharacteristically quiet and Georgiana made no more attempt to speak at all.
Lady Catherine seemed not displeased to meet the new lady, who was fashionably dressed and well spoken, and she unbent enough to give her, unasked, all the details of her journey, the dirtiness of the roads between Kent and Derbyshire, the discomforts of the inns, and her apprehension that the fabled luxuries of Pemberley might have diminished, through having a mistress who did not know its ways. “I was quite prepared for it having fallen to the condition of a veritable forlorn old ruin,” she lamented.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Gardiner assured her with a smile. “We have been staying here some weeks, and I can tell you we have never been more comfortable in our lives. The beds you know are excellent – such fine old linen, all laid up in lavender – and the dinners deserve their wide fame. Why, John, tell Lady Catherine about the fine haunch of venison that was presented last night. I never saw such an one.”
“The finest I have ever seen,” her husband beamed, “shot by Darcy and Fitzwilliam, and cooked to such a turn! No French chef, I think, could.”
“It will be on the sideboard tonight,” said Elizabeth, “and there is a fresh turkey, as well as some astonishing pies.”
Lady Catherine drew her heavy eyebrows together and tapped her cane. “Talking of your bill of fare! No lady does that. You will disgrace yourself before these elegant people. I knew how it would be,” she sighed. “A constant series of shame.”
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “I am endeavoring to learn the ways of the great,” she said solemnly.
Darcy turned to his aunt and said earnestly, “Aunt Catherine, I believe your prejudices will be gradually removed, as you observe that not only is Pemberley quite unharmed, but the heart of its owner has been made completely happy by marriage – much in the way of my friends the Gardiners, I believe.” He bowed to them in his friendliest manner.
“Hey? What is the name? I did not catch it.”
“These are Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner – my wife’s aunt and uncle.”
Lady Catherine flushed a deep red. “Oh, indeed! Not the Cheapside people! Impossible!”
“Yes, our home is there, near my husband’s business you know,” said Mrs. Gardiner briskly, “we are most comfortably settled.”
“Bless me! I had no idea any gentlefolk lived in such a place,” exclaimed Lady Catherine, lifting her lace-mitted hands in alarm, “no wonder that – You must be very pleased with Pemberley, as I do not know who is not.”
Darcy looked ashamed of his aunt’s rudeness, but Mrs. Gardiner responded cheerfully. “The country is always a great refreshment to those who live in the city, indeed Lady Catherine,” she said, “the contrast is what is delightful.”
“Well, you do seem to have lived among your betters,” Lady Catherine observed. “How large a house have you? How many children?”
Mrs. Gardiner submitted to answering a series of impertinent questions quietly, and Darcy looked impatient. But Lady Catherine’s conclusions were, on the whole, of a positive nature.
“I see, Mr. Gardiner, that despite your connections in trade, you have married a lady. Your wife is a treasure. I was in fear that my nephew might have involved himself in a complete mesalliance, and those, you know, always turn out badly. Still, it may be that your wife’s teachings will make up for the deficiencies of the bride’s own mother. I hope so.”
“We may hope for a good dinner at least,” said Mr. Gardiner jovially, trying to turn the subject.
“Yes; and it is time to go in.” Darcy rose and gave his arm to his aunt rather unwillingly, while Elizabeth walked behind with Georgiana, into the dining-salon, lit by hundreds of wax tapers that made the glass glitter. The finest victuals were laid out, in all their appointments, from the pigeon pies to the turkey, and all the removes were accompanied by such very fine wines, that Lady Catherine gradually unbent.
“I must say, this turkey is cooked to a turn,” she conceded, “I never had a better dinner at Pemberley, even in the old days. And we have nothing like this wine at Rosings. Darcy’s cellar was always famous.”
Catherine the Great
Elizabeth exchanged relieved glances with Darcy.
“Speaking of Kent, we have not asked after Mr. and Mrs. Collins,” Elizabeth ventured.
“I hardly ever see them, I assure you. Mrs. Collins is far too busy with her new baby to wait upon me and consider my needs,” was the displeased reply. “Her selfishness is now thoroughly manifest. And that odious Mr. Collins – “
“Why, I thought you approved of him,” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“Approve of a gossiping clergyman, and his endorsement of infamy!“
“Surely you don’t mean our marriage?” asked Mr. Darcy. “Aunt Catherine, that is really the last time you can be allowed to speak disparagingly of our union. That is, if you wish – “
He said no more, but Lady Catherine knew he was referring to visiting rights, and she capitulated. “Very well. I can say that you seem to be happy. And Pemberley has not materially suffered.”
“Damned good of her,” Mr. Gardiner could not resist murmuring softly to his wife.
“But now tell me, truthfully now, Darcy, for I shall know if you dissemble. How has the county received you? Is Mrs. Darcy welcome in all the great houses? Surely you have had no invitation from Rowlands – or from Tilden Court. Only the very highest quality are admitted as visitors there.”
“We made wedding-visits to all the houses round,” he answered quietly, “including those you mention; and were kindly received every where. Now that I am not a single man, I daresay I am less sought after, but these days I am happiest at home, you see.”
“And it is so much pleasanter for me, Aunt Catherine, to have my sister here,” spoke up Georgiana diffidently. “We have such good times walking and reading together.”
“Oh, indeed? And what do you to read?” asked Lady Catherine incredulously. “A book of manners would be useful,” she said pointedly, with a look at Elizabeth.
“We have been reading The Wanderer, and some of the modern poets.”
“Not that dreadful Byron,” she said with a sniff. “Stuff and nonsense!”
“No; Scott’s Marmion, aunt,” said Georgiana.
“I do wish they would read Dr. Johnson,” put in Mary fretfully.
“Hm! And who is this young lady to give her opinion? Is she one of her sisters?”
“She is. My next sister, Mary,” Elizabeth answered concisely.
“And better educated than most of you, I collect.”
Mr. Darcy looked askance but Elizabeth hastened to answer, “Mary has always been a very great reader, ma’am.”
“But not as good-looking as you and your eldest sister. Well, she looks sensible, at any rate, and if you like her to return to Rosings with me, she may pay us a visit, and make herself useful. Perhaps we will find somebody – Mr. Collins may have an acceptable friend, I suppose.”
Elizabeth could barely restrain a shudder, but Mary looked interested, and so Elizabeth civilly accepted of the invitation for her, as she saw she wanted her to do.
It was settled, with Lady Catherine stating her purpose to make her usual tour of the house and grounds, and then in two or three days to return to Rosings, bringing Mary with her. If Darcy said “two birds with one stone,” it was not in any one’s direct hearing, and Elizabeth ignored what she guessed of it.
The dinner, to the relief of many, was at an end. But as the ladies prepared to withdraw, Lady Catherine remained seated. “I wish,” she announced, “to have a private word with my nephew.”
P&P 200: Wife Selling at Pemberley
A catchier title than Elizabeth Braves the Slop, Part Three, (Didn’t want to title Part One thus and gave the theme/intrigue away prematurely 
).
Selling a Wife To the Highest Bidder
from Popular Past Times, London, 1816
Rage filled Elizabeth. She left Tetty and charged toward the old man, now scraping the mud off one foot against the trunk of a tree. “Mr. Feild—”
“You’d be wanting to box for my ears for what Tetty’s been telling you, I suppose?” He interrupted without pausing his scraping.
“Is it true?” She forced herself to speak in a calm voice. “You bought her at the Buxton fair?
He examined his scraped foot and made a face. “Guilty as charged.”
Her hands balled into fists. “And now you’re planning to sell her at Bakewell?”
“That’s what she wants.” He lowered one foot and raised the other to the trunk. “Ran and hid in the dovecote when I said I have no shoes to take her there.”
For the first time in her life, Elizabeth wished to inflict physical harm on another person. “How dare you, buying and selling a woman as if she was a piece—”
“No, not horseflesh, Ma’am.” His eyes fierce, both feet on the ground, he faced her. “She’s worth less than horseflesh.”
She was now Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley, not Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, she reminded herself and pressed her balled fists against her sides. Not trusting herself to speak, she clenched her teeth and glared at him.
“There are men who value their horsefleshes more than their wives,” his voice harsh, he continued, advancing closer. “Her previous husband, a gin-soused brute, had arranged with her lover, the baker, the sale of Tetty at the public auction in exchange for the baker’s mare.” Continue reading
P&P200: Lizzie at Pemberley
“Farewell, my dear Mrs. Darcy.”
A shiver of pleasure passed through Lizzie at the sound of her new name. She kissed the tips of her fingers and waved the kiss in his direction. Darcy responded with a half-smile but he didn’t send her a kiss back. It was probably an improper thing to do.
She sighed. It was probably not quite proper to be leaning out of her bedroom window either, even if she was fully dressed. She was only too aware of the two liveried footmen standing at the carriage door, staring fixedly ahead as if blind and deaf. Then Darcy stepped into the carriage and one of the footmen, a youngster with blue eyes and an eager attitude, closed the door behind him. As the carriage drew away, she thought the footman glanced towards her window, but she couldn’t be sure. It was probably her imagination. Being the mistress of a house like Pemberley was all so new, it wasn’t surprising she didn’t quite feel comfortable about it.
Though if she’d learned anything from her stay at Netherfield when Jane was ill, it was that the servants watched every move she made and reported everything downstairs. She’d discovered this to her chagrin when she’d gone down to the kitchen to get some warm milk for Jane, only to discover to her embarrassment that they were talking about her.
“I had to clean her shoes, I should know,” said a man’s voice. ”They were caked with at least two inches of mud. Shocking behavior. Walking across the field like a vagabond, I ask you. That’s no lady fit to associate with the likes of Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy.” Continue reading
P & P200: Elizabeth Braves the Slop, Part Two
Click here to read Read Part One. Part Three, the ending, of this P&P 200 vignette/short story will be posted 12/11.
…Mindful of the potence, a central pole with braced horizontal beams where ladders could be hung to access the nesting boxes, she gingerly made her way to the center. About to climb the ladder, the unmistakable sound of person breathing heavily checked her.
Heart leaping to her throat, Elizabeth spun and pressed her back against the wall. “Who’s there?”
No answer other than the noises from the birds, then a faint sound of someone trying to muffle their own breathing but failing.
Holding her own breath, her eyes straining to peer into the shadow, Elizabeth inched sideways toward the door.
The door opened. Diggory Feild’s voice sounded too loud in the dark. “Come on out, Tetty. It’s only the young mistress, newly married and as obstinate as you.”
A dark, clump of a shadow unfolded upright from a low corner. “Ma’am, are there any men out there, besides him, that is?”
Elizabeth released a breath slowly and willed her heart to settle down to her chest. She shook her head then realized Tetty, whoever she was, may not see her clearly. “No. Is he harming you?”
“No, Ma’am,” Tetty said. “But I’m not coming out until there are other men out there.”
Despite her words, Tetty didn’t sound frightened, which reassured Elizabeth. “May I enquire why you are hiding in here?”
Mr. Feild said, “Has it occurred to both of you daft women that if I’d a fancy, I could shut this door, lock it, and trap you both in?” Continue reading
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