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"You wanted to see me Aunt Georgiana?" Mary stood poised in the doorway, awaiting a reply.
Preoccupied with her task, Georgiana did not even bother looking up from her writing desk and instead, waved the girl in. "Come in, child. Do come in and take a seat, but let me finish this letter first."
Mary sat primly across from Georgiana, expecting her to finish the letter at any moment. But as the minutes dragged on, Mary's attention flagged and she began to relax more and more until she was practically slouching against the back of the chair. It was only when she heard the drag of a flourishing signature scribbled hurriedly across a piece of paper that Mary jerked back to attention.
Georgiana grinned knowingly. "It's quite all right, my dear. Please," she gestured Mary back into her former position, "I want you to be comfortable. I would hope that by now, you have come to look upon Pemberley as quite your own. You should feel at home to lounge around from time to time, when the occasion is right and certainly not in front of company," she sternly amended.
When Mary nodded her head in understanding, Georgiana continued brightly, "Now then, be a dear and ring for tea. Writing letters always leaves me parched. Once we are comfortably settled with a cup and plate in our hands, I was hoping we could have a nice, comfy coze."
Mary did as she was asked, and then returned to her seat. She did not have to wait long for Georgiana to speak, but as Georgiana was never one to speak directly, Mary had to wait a little longer for Georgiana to make her point.
"Your mother and your aunt are very close, are they not?"
"Which aunt? My eldest aunt?"
"Mm-hm. Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Georgiana clarified.
Though baffled by the randomness of the question, Mary was not at a loss as to how to answer, "Yes, Mama and Aunt Lizzy are close. Very close."
"And you too are close with your aunt, no?"
"I have never met my aunt but for when I was a babe, so no we are not close in that respect," Mary answered carefully, "but we are close in the sense that Aunt Lizzy has always shown a great deal of interest in my welfare just as I have always had a great curiosity to know my aunt. My mother was only happy to oblige me with stories about my aunt and their youthful escapades."
"I see."
"I was named after my aunt, you know."
"Mary. The one that married the vicar?"
Mary looked curiously at her companion. "You know a great deal about me and my family, Aunt Georgiana."
"I make an effort to keep abreast of the concerns of my friends," Georgiana conceded. "You father writes letters full of interesting stories to my brother. Naturally I hear about them," she explained easily.
Mary accepted it without a moment's hesitation. "I am not named after my Aunt Mary, from Mama's side. The name, Mary, comes from my Great-Aunt on Papa's side of the family. They were very close. Great-Aunt Mary was like a second mother to Papa after Grandmother died, and as I have never known Grandmother, Great-Aunt Mary has been a grandmother to me."
Georgiana mentally ran down the Bingley family tree and nodded her head. "Ah, of course. I met her in London once. Let's see... I know! Mary Elizabeth Bingley then, is it not?"
"Precisely! Mama and Papa fought over whose name should come first, but Papa won in the end."
Georgiana acknowledged Mary's comment with a bob of her head even though she had a hard time imagining Charles Bingley fighting over anything with his lovely wife. A footman rolling in the teacart interrupted them. After he bowed and made his leave, Georgiana poured a cup of tea for herself and cup of chocolate for Mary. Then, taking a biscuit for herself, she motioned for Mary to sample one of Cook's delectable raisin scones before continuing.
"I have noticed that you have a miniature of your aunt and that you look at it often." When Mary looked up startled, Georgiana hastened to add, "I did not mean to suggest that I have looked through your things. Only, I have seen you studying it often when I check in on you in the evenings."
Mary nodded her head slowly. "I look at it and the miniature of my parents frequently, especially when I miss them."
"Does it still hurt to think of your parents so far away?" Georgiana asked gently.
"No, not really," Mary answered truthfully. "I miss them still. I miss them a lot. But it does not hurt to miss them as it once did. I suppose it is because I am less homesick than I was when I first came to live at Pemberley."
"That is understandable and I am glad to hear it. I am sorry there is nothing I can do to help you regarding your parents' absence though."
"I know."
Georgiana inclined her head thoughtfully and asked, "And your aunt?"
Mary took a deep breath before saying, "Holding my aunt's picture brings me comfort because I know she is close by, living somewhere in England."
Raising an eyebrow, Georgiana did not think that was all there was to the matter and said so, "Are you sure that is all?"
"Well no," Mary admitted. "It also makes me sad."
"Sad? Why?" Georgiana waited for an explanation.
"Because she is so near!" Mary cried out in frustration. "I have always wanted to meet my Aunt Lizzy, ever since I was a little girl and could start remembering the things that Mama told me about her. I suppose I am a little disappointed that she has not made an effort to see me yet. Mama and Papa did promise that they would write and tell her I was coming to England and staying at Pemberley."
Georgiana had no doubt that they had, just as she had no doubt that Elizabeth Bennet had received the letter and was staying away for the precise reason that Mary was staying at Pemberley. Georgiana wondered how long it would have taken her to settle her affairs and hasten to Longbourn had Mary been sent to live with her grandparents in Hertfordshire.
Instead of giving voice to her ruminations, Georgiana said, "You must not be disappointed, my dear child. Nor should you be so hard on your aunt. After all, your aunt is a governess and as such cannot come and go as she pleases. She must give consideration to her employers and the needs of her charges."
"Yes... I suppose that is true. I had not thought of it like that before."
"Not to mention, there is the small matter of your aunt not yet receiving an invitation to Pemberley. You cannot expect her to come running to a place where she has not yet been invited?"
"No, of course not. I had not thought of that either." Eventually, Mary pouted, "And I suppose there is no chance of Aunt Lizzy receiving an invitation now that Mr. Darcy has gone to France, is there?"
Georgiana leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. "Not necessarily."
"What do you mean?" Mary asked mystified.
"Why, I will simply invite your aunt to come for a visit, of course!" Georgiana clapped her hands in utter delight with herself. "Would that not be just the thing?"
Mary was not so persuaded however and shook her head woefully. "I am afraid I cannot allow you to do that, Aunt Georgiana."
"And why ever not?" Georgiana demanded. "As a special guest to Pemberley, you have every right to have visitors call on you. Miss Bennet is your family, you want to meet her, and you certainly should. Besides, you have done so much for us in the way of Colin that bringing you and your aunt together is the very least we can do for you."
"I thank you for all that you want to do on my behalf, but I cannot allow it. I would not feel right making such an imposition on Mr. Darcy's hospitality. I am sure Mama and Papa would not approve." Georgiana frowned at Mary's sensible answer. "I wish I had thought to ask Mr. Darcy about it before he left for France though. It never occurred to me that Aunt Lizzy might not have visited for lack of an invitation. I am sure I would not feel half so bad about asking Aunt Lizzy to visit if I had Mr. Darcy's permission to do so."
Georgiana looked scandalized as she thought about just what her brother's reaction would have been had Mary asked to bring her aunt to Pemberley. And then she giggled at the mental image for no doubt, Fitzwilliam would have said yes and then run post haste out of his study. Georgiana was sure he would have even swam to France if need be.
"Am I to understand that not having my brother's permission your only hesitation in having your aunt to visit us, Mary?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Why, Mary, you need not fear that!" Mary looked confused. "I can ask whomever I wish to Pemberley."
"You can?" Mary asked in awe.
Georgiana nodded affirmatively. "Pemberley is technically no longer my home, but in many ways it still is. For one thing, I grew up here and I will always cherish it. The Darcy pride runs deep and no marriage will ever take it away. And although I have my own family and own home now, I still see Pemberley as my beloved childhood home. In more practical terms, I stay here so often that my brother essentially continues to place the care of the house in my capable hands. As such, I have leave to do whatever I want with Pemberley - except sell it, naturally - and as such, I can invited whomever I want to visit."
Mary practically leapt up from her chair in raptures. "Truly and honestly, Aunt Georgiana? You would do this for me?"
And my brother.
Pretending to be insulted, Georgiana chided, "I would hardly tease about such a thing, my child."
"Oh, I would be forever grateful if you would write my Aunt Lizzy to visit at her earliest convenience then," giggling, Mary ran around the desk to give Georgiana an effusive squeeze.
Pleased, Georgiana gave Mary an affectionate embrace in return. "Now then, there is no time to waste, is there?" As Mary shook her head, Georgiana pulled back from the hug to retrieve several sheets of clean paper from her escritoire.
Dipping her pen nib in the ink, she asked, "How would you like to write a letter to your aunt?" At Mary's heightened expression, Georgiana instructed, "Pull up your chair beside me and we will write together, side by side. When we are done, I shall include your missive in mine. How does that sound to you?"
Mary gave Georgiana a most satisfied smile. Nothing could make her happier.
Elizabeth held up both letters in one hand and pressed her other hand to her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on. Leaning forward, she allowed the windowpane to absorb the entirety of her weight. The coolness of the glass soaked in the flushed sensation that had been creeping over her ever since she had read her latest correspondence. Twisting around slowly, Elizabeth continued to lean against the windowpane. Once she was fully turned around, she held up the first letter and with the help of the sunlight, read it again.
Dear Miss Bennet,It has been many years since I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. Many times since that summer, I have wished that I could have known you better. Perhaps it is presumptuous of me to speak so, but as a forthright woman yourself, I know you shall not take offense at my candor. I am sorry we were never able to further that friendship which we had so tentatively begun.
Fortune seems to shine upon us, though. In the recent months, I have had the wondrous opportunity to become acquainted with your niece, Mary Bingley. She is staying at Pemberley under my brother's care. Unfortunately, business requires Mr. Darcy's absence from his estate and I was prevailed upon to stay on in his stead. My son and I have so enjoyed meeting Mary.
A delightful child, Mary has become like one of the family. As such, I want to do something for her and I know that nothing would give her more pleasure than meeting you and getting to know her favorite aunt. It is in this vein, that I send you my sincere wish that you will come and stay with us for an extended holiday. Naturally, you have your responsibilities, but should the occasion arise, I hope that you will be persuaded to join us at Pemberley.
I cannot promise you fanfare or excitement. Speaking frankly, we are a lonely lot with my brother away in France, with no prospects of returning anytime soon. We are however a lively lot in our own amusements too and I can guarantee that you would not want for company should you decide to brave it. There will be of course your niece, whom I am sure you are just as eager to know, as she is to know you. And dare I admit that selfishly, I also hope that you will come and stay with us so that we may renew our age-old acquaintance.
Should you decide to accept my offer, please do let me know and I will gladly assist you in arranging your visit to Pemberley. I hope to hear from you soon.
Yours, etc.
Georgiana Fitzwilliam
There was no mistaking the contents of Georgiana Fitzwilliam's letter. As the younger sister of Pemberley's master, she was inviting her, Elizabeth Bennet, to come and stay with them. In spite of all her misgivings, Elizabeth was sorely tempted to accept it, especially after rereading the second letter, which had accompanied the first one.
Dear Aunt Lizzy,I have been in England for several months now, but I have not had the pleasure of meeting you. Aunt Georgiana says that is because you are busy as a governess and because you have not yet received an invitation. Mr. Darcy left the morning after we met, so I was not able to tell him about you. But Aunt Georgiana says it does not matter for she can just as easily issue an invitation. I hope you will accept it and find a way around your governess duties. I do want to meet you so much, Aunt Lizzy. Please come.
Your loving niece,
Mary Bingley
Elizabeth sighed. There was no mistaking Mary's plea. But could she go along with it? Did she have the strength to venture into that house again after all these years? Surely time would have lessened the pain, but had it?
Ever since Jane had written to tell her that Mary was in England, Elizabeth had been waiting half-expectantly and half-fearfully of the summons that were sure to follow. For weeks she had filled her days pondering over these very same questions, but when the letter from Pemberley never arrived, she gave up. Filled with relief mixed with a tinge of something she could not quite explain, disappointment perhaps, Elizabeth had put it out of her mind and continued her daily existence as though her sister's letter had never arrived.
But now, the invitation to Pemberley had finally been issued and all those old questions resurfaced. Wearily, Elizabeth brushed a hand carelessly across her eyes. She still did not have the answers.
Of course Fitzwilliam Darcy would not actually be there. His sister had stated that clearly, not once but twice, and Mary had alluded to it in her letter as well. At least she would be safe on that matter. But would she be safe from the others? Elizabeth had a feeling that stepping into the grand hallways of Pemberley would be like opening up the Pandora's box of ghosts from her past, and as it was whenever Elizabeth had to deal with something related to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the woman who was usually such a pillar of strength did not know if she had the strength to handle the ghosts of her yesteryears.
A knock at the door interrupted her reveries. "Yes?"
"If you please, miss. Mr. Simons is here to see you, miss."
Elizabeth frowned. "Me? Are you sure he is not looking for Mrs. Moffet?"
"No, miss. He expressly asked to see you and Mrs. Moffet bade me to show him into the morning room while he waited for you."
"Well, all right then." When she saw the maid hesitating in the doorway, Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. "Is there something else?"
"Forgive me, miss," the maid stammered. "It's just that Mrs. Moffet asked me to tell you that you," the maid coughed, "look especially nice in your yellow dress."
Elizabeth took a moment to glance down at her plain, gray dress. It was not exactly a flattering gown, but it was serviceable one and after all, was that not what she wanted? An outfit befitting her purpose as a governess? Elizabeth was a shrewd woman though and she knew exactly what her employer was trying to do. Casting her eyes heavenward, Elizabeth promised to have a word with her after this morning's interview. For the time being, she had other thoughts to occupy her mind.
When Elizabeth first arrived at her post with the Moffet's, a Mr. Trevans had been the local vicar. An elderly gentleman, he died but a year later. It was then that Mr. Simons, a distant nephew, had come to take up the living. The living was a decent one as far as vicars went, and as a comfortably settled single man living in a remote village in the north, Mr. Simons was considered to be acceptably eligible. That he was of a pleasant disposition and had a handsome face certainly helped matters. Still, in spite of the Herculean efforts of the matchmaking Mama's of the town, Mr. Simons remained bafflingly single.
For some inexplicable reason, though, Elizabeth felt that Mr. Simons was beginning to turn his attentions towards her. In all her years with the Moffet's, she had never encouraged him nor given him any indication of interest. Yet, within the past months, he was forever seeking excuses to call on the Moffet's or contriving a way to seat himself near her when they chanced to meet at social functions. And of course their neighbors and friends, who all adored and admired the Moffet's friendly and lively governess, would merely smile and look the other way. Elizabeth knew what they were thinking and she was frustrated for they were giving Mr. Simons encouragement when she was not. But, Elizabeth did not know how to put a stop to it without hurting the vicar's feelings, and she was not willing to hurt such a nice man's feelings.
Elizabeth had an ill-fated premonition that her morning had just gone from bad to worse. Standing up, she tucked her letters into a hidden pocket and then shook out the wrinkles in her skirt.
"Very well, I shall be down in a minute," she told the maid. Looking down once more at her dress, she set her mouth in a grim line and said, "But I think Mr. Simons will have to content himself with my everyday dress."
"Ah, there you are, Miss Bennet," Mr. Simons called out as soon as Elizabeth stepped into the room. Mrs. Moffet looked up from her seat and frowned to see Elizabeth not wearing the suggested dress.
Elizabeth pointedly ignored her and turned to Mr. Simons instead. "Forgive me, sir. It took the maid a while to find me, for while the children are having their riding lessons, I took the opportunity to hide in the schoolroom and read the letters I received this morning."
"But of course, my dear," the vicar responded graciously. "I hope I have not disturbed you. Perhaps you would like a moment to finish reading your letters."
Elizabeth pursed her lips at the affectionate words, which he presumed to use with her. "You are very kind, sir. But I thank you, no. I had finished reading them was merely contemplating their meaning when you called."
"Ah, that is very good to hear," Mr. Simons answered.
Mrs. Moffet smiled contentedly to herself and picking up her sewing, removed herself to a far corner of the room to leave the young couple to themselves.
Elizabeth watched gloweringly as her employer abandoned her, leaving her to her own devices. Then before Mr. Simons could catch her expression, she turned around and smiling cheerfully asked, "Was there something you were wanting to see me about, sir?"
Mr. Simons looked nervously at the corner of the room where Mrs. Moffet sat huddled over her needlework. Tugging at his cravat, which all of the sudden seemed most constricting, he cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact I did have a matter of business to discuss with you."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows expectantly, waiting for the vicar to continue. They were interrupted however when a maid walked into room. Looking around the room, her eyes lit up when she found Mrs. Moffet. "Begging your pardon, Mrs. Moffet, but Cook wishes to speak with you."
"Can it not wait, Aggie?"
"Cook says it is of a grave matter and requires immediate attention."
"It is always of a grave matter with Cook," Mrs. Moffet sighed. That said, she stood up and sweeping gracefully from the room, turned at the door to say, "Forgive me, my friends. I hope you do not mind the slight interruption. Pray carry on without me and I shall be back as soon as possible." The merry twinkle unhidden in her eye however, suggested otherwise.
As the door closed behind her, Elizabeth sighed. She was now alone with Mr. Simons, and Elizabeth had a sneaky suspicion that it had not all been left to chance. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts for Mr. Simons did not hesitate in picking up on it. "You look somewhat distressed, my dear. Is everything all right?"
"Why yes, why do you ask?" Elizabeth asked nonplused.
"Perhaps you have received distressing news in your letters this morning?" Mr. Simons brightened as though he had hit upon the answer. "Indeed you did not look quite yourself when you walked in just now." Leaning forward, he grabbed one of her hands and pressing it in earnest, said, "I do hope that it is nothing tragic, Miss Bennet. If I may be of service, please, look upon me as your humble servant. I should be only too happy to help in any capacity."
Elizabeth gasped and shook her hand free. Turning ever so slightly away, Elizabeth held a hand to her chest, trying to compose herself as she tried to figure out what she was going to do with this unwanted suitor. Misinterpreting it for breathlessness, Mr. Simons beamed.
"Please, sir. It is nothing. I beg you would believe me."
"I am sorry, my dear. I did not mean to add to your distress," Mr. Simons humbly replied.
Elizabeth gritted her teeth. How was she to explain that she was not distressed and that it was he who was making her distressed!
"Not at all," she smiled kindly. "I wish you would forget it all. Before you we were interrupted just now, you said you wished to see speak to me. Would you please continue now?"
"An excellent suggestion, my dear. Your memory does you great credit."
Elizabeth murmured her thanks for the compliment, not knowing what else to say in the slight pause of the vicar's speech.
"Ahem... this is all so awkward, I suddenly fine. I wish, Miss Bennett, that I had a knack for making flowery speeches, but I am afraid that the only oratory skill I possess is preaching and making sermons and I find that in this instance, those are most definitely unsuitable for my purpose today."
Mr. Simons gently pulled on Elizabeth's arm, bringing her back around to face him. "It can be no secret, Miss Bennet. Surely you must know how I feel about you."
Elizabeth bit her lips and turned her head away. "I am afraid I do not understand."
Misinterpreting her actions, Mr. Simons thought that Elizabeth was using her feminine charms to give him the subtle invitation he needed for him to disclose his feelings. His heart lurched with joy and he leaped at the opportunity to do so.
"You must understand," he insisted. "Surely you must know the reasons why I have contrived to be in your company so much of late. I know of no other woman like you. You are all that is respectable and more. You are intelligent, warm, and compassionate. You are generous, caring, and honest through and through. You are beautiful and virtuous, kind and considering... Shall I go on naming your virtues? It would take me days, months, years to catalogue them, I am sure. But in short, Miss Bennet, let me say that you have everything I have always sought in a lifelong companion. Indeed, Miss Bennet... Elizabeth... you simply must allow me to tell you how much I admire you, respect you, and dare I even say, love you."
Elizabeth stood quickly and turned away from Mr. Simons, unable to watch his face anymore. "Please, sir. You make too freely with my name."
Mr. Simons lunged to the floor and on one knee, grabbed her right hand from behind. "Please, Miss Bennet, can you not give me some sort of hope that..." his voice faltered, "one day you might feel as I do? Truly, I would wait and do anything in my power to make you mine if only you could believe it possible yourself."
"Please, do not say such things," Elizabeth's voice was wobbly. She tugged her hand out of his grasp and then cradled it against her chest with her left hand.
Mr. Simons was stricken. She could hear it in his voice. She could not bear to see it; she could not bring herself to face him.
"I had thought..."
"I never sought to give you any encouragement," Elizabeth whispered mournfully. "I... you... we... oh!" Elizabeth threw up her hands despairingly, "Do you not see? You were only a friend to me and I erringly indulged you. While I appreciated the company you provided, I never felt anything more than friendship for you."
"I see. And the whisperings, the ill-concealed gossip, the subtle hints and gestures from our friends and neighbors..."
"Well-intentioned acts from kind-hearted matrons who wanted to see more than there was because they were carried away by their romantic emotions and thought it was in my best interest to do so, but their opinions were never an honest reflection of my true feelings," Elizabeth explained.
"I see."
"I am sorry, Mr. Simons! I never meant to hurt you and you do not know how much it pains me to say such spiteful and hurtful words," Elizabeth flashed around, wanting with the greatest urgency to convince him of the veracity of her words, and paled at the sight of her scorned suitor's white face.
"Oh, Mr. Simons," Elizabeth stepped forward to take his hands in comfort, but he waved her off as if her touch would mark him with a burn.
"Pray do not."
Elizabeth sank heavily onto the nearest cushion and covered her face with the palm of her hands. "What a wretched mess this is."
"I am sorry to have been the cause of so much pain and distress," Mr. Simons apologized stiffly.
But Elizabeth would not let him go like this. "Mr. Simons, wait. Please, do not be angry with me. I know it is unfair of me to ask it, but I would hate it if you were."
"Angry?" Mr. Simons asked bitterly. "No, I am not angry with you, my dear Miss Bennet. But I am disappointed. With myself, if the truth must be told. I was so very sure of myself. I let myself turn a blind eye to the truth. I am as much at blame, I suppose."
"I wish very much," Elizabeth said softly, "that I could give you the answer you seek, but in my heart I know I cannot."
"You are in love with someone else," Mr. Simons spoke with sudden understanding. When Elizabeth did not answer, he took her hand and brushed her knuckles with a light, airy kiss. "You need not say anything. I understand perfectly."
And indeed he did, for suddenly Mr. Simons found himself in a position of unrequited love.
"I hope that one day you may be luckier in love than fate would have for me." Mr. Simons bowed. "Good day, Miss Bennet."
It was late when Mrs. Moffet finally found her way to Elizabeth's bedroom. After Mr. Simons had left, she had been too busy overseeing household chores to seek out her governess and ask about what had transpired after she left the room. Likewise, Elizabeth had been preoccupied with the children. It was only after the children had been put to bed and the Moffet's had checked on their progeny that Mrs. Moffet allowed herself to finally satisfy her curiosity.
When Mrs. Moffet was admitted into Elizabeth's chambers, Elizabeth was reclining in a chair by the fire, a blanket pulled up over her lap. "You have not yet gone to bed," she observed.
"No. I found I was not tired and could not fall asleep. I thought I would read a little bit before I tried again," Elizabeth explained.
"You have many thoughts in your head that prevent it, perhaps."
"I suppose that may be the case," Elizabeth answered evasively.
"I hope I am not disturbing you then."
"Not at all, Mrs. Moffet. You know you are always welcome to share my fireside."
Mrs. Moffet stared thoughtfully at the woman sitting across from her. "I cannot help but think, my dear, that there is something not quite right about you tonight."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Moffet?"
"I know I am your employer, Miss Bennet, but I hope I am not bold in thinking that in all the years you have been with this family, you have also been like a good friend to us. For indeed I treasure and value your opinion more than anything else in this world, save my husband's of course," she smiled.
Taken aback, Elizabeth reached out and touched Mrs. Moffet's hand lightly. "Why of course we are friends. I have always thought so myself."
Mrs. Moffet held onto Elizabeth's hand. "Then let us cast off this old, dratted piece of propriety. You will call me Michele and allow me to be your friend. You did it once when you first came to us to be our governess and shared with me your troubles. Can you not do it again tonight, for I see it plainly in your face that you need a friend to talk to, though you would have me believe that you do not."
Elizabeth's book slipped unnoticed to the floor as she drew up her knees and rested her chin atop them. Tiny drops of tears rolled down her face at this unexpected act of kindness. It was not that Elizabeth was surprised that her employer could be kind, for she and her husband had always been good to her and generous with their home. Indeed, Elizabeth could not have asked for two better people to work for. It was just that she could hardly believe her luck at having such a friend at this crucial moment in her life. So much had happened in this one day and as the enormity of it all began to dawn on her senses, Elizabeth had found herself overwhelmed, and she was grateful to have someone with whom she could trust and share her burden.
"My poor friend," Mrs. Moffet clucked. "You are indeed troubled, are you not?"
"Yes," Elizabeth nodded. "So much has happened today, and so much went wrong. I hardly no where to begin."
"I have always felt that it helps to start at the beginning," Mrs. Moffet encouraged.
"All right," Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I received two letters this morning. One was from my niece, Mary Bingley. She is in England and wants to meet me."
"Why that should be welcome news, is it not?" Mrs. Moffet knew how Elizabeth doted on her niece. They had talked of her often, especially after Elizabeth had received another one of Jane's letters.
"Under different circumstances it would be."
Mrs. Moffet cocked her head to one side. "I do not understand."
"The second letter I received, well the first one really for Mary's letter was enclosed within, was from Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam."
"The name is familiar," Mrs. Moffet thought for a second. "I wonder if I have met her in London before, a passing acquaintance perhaps. I dare say Mr. Moffet would know. He is so much better with names than me."
"Perhaps you might recognize the name if I said it was Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam, nee Georgiana Darcy," Elizabeth continued. "Miss Georgiana Darcy married her cousin to become Mrs. Richard Fitzwilliam."
"Why yes, of course! Georgiana Darcy! A delightful thing, really she is. She is so nice and sincere, always hard to find amongst the ton. But... OH!"
Mrs. Moffet's eyes grew round as saucers. She remembered another time when Elizabeth had chanced to mention that last name to her. It had been not long after Elizabeth had come under their employ. One summer night, Mrs. Moffet had found her governess wandering the gardens feeling lonely and homesick. She had been sad, and in that moment of vulnerability, she had confessed her true feelings regarding a certain man who bore the same last name as Georgiana Darcy. Elizabeth, always the perfect image of a solid and stable rock, had never again betrayed such weaknesses, and after that night, the name had never again crossed her lips within Mrs. Moffet's hearing.
"Yes," Elizabeth confirmed softly. "Mrs. Fitzwilliam is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's sister."
"Dear me. But how is it that Mary is with her?"
"A cruel twist of fate, it would seem. My sister and her husband wished to send her back to England to see that she received a proper education. You have met Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. You have also met Miss Bingley. I know you would agree with me when I say that Charles and Jane would have to be insane before they allowed their daughter to live with any of them."
Mrs. Moffet shuddered to think of it. Sending any child to live with the likes of the Hurst's or Miss Bingley was akin to sending him to hell. She was grateful that she had no such relatives in her family or her husband's.
"You have never met my family, so you must trust me when I say that my parents are no better than Charles's family. Perhaps they are not so spiteful or mean-spirited, but my mother, as much as I love her, is a silly little thing. And my father gave up one her a long time ago and keeps to his books in his study. To send Mary there would be consigning her to a fate no better than the one she would suffer at the hands of Charles's family."
"I see. And of course you could not take in your niece as a governess, so your sister and brother-in-law sent her to Mrs. Fitzwilliam?"
"No," Elizabeth shook her head. "Worse. They sent her to my brother-in-law's best friend."
"Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Moffet breathed.
"Yes," Elizabeth verified flatly.
"Oh my." Mrs. Moffet was beginning to understand the root of Elizabeth's agony.
"Mr. Darcy is away attending to business and in his absence, his sister is standing in his place at Pemberley. She writes to invite me to come stay with them, and Mary writes to beg that I accept the invitation. But how can I go to her when doing so will mean that I must also stay... in that place!" Elizabeth hid her face and groaned. "It is too much to ask, but how can I explain such a thing to Mary so that she will understand? It is impossible."
"You are decided then. You will not go," Mrs. Moffet asked.
"I cannot go."
"Why not, Elizabeth? It seems to me you have every reason to visit. You have an invitation. Your niece is there. You have not seen her since she was a babe. You have always wanted to see her again. There are times when you talk of nothing else but the day you will finally get to see your niece again. And now you know your niece is no less eager to meet you. How could you not feel honored by such a request? If you are worried about seeing Mr. Darcy again, why, you already know he is not there. There is nothing to stop you from going. I confess, Elizabeth, I cannot understand your adamant refusal to even consider a visit."
"But, Michele! You cannot possibly expect me to go back to Pemberley! It does not matter if Mr. Darcy is there or not. My memories will still be there. I fear I am not as strong as I would like to think I am. I cannot go. It would be too painful."
"You still love him, don't you?" Mrs. Moffet asked gently. Fresh tears squeezed out from the corner of Elizabeth's watery eyes. "I am so sorry, my dear. I... I did not know. You talked of him once, but then you never did again. I thought... I hoped... time would have eased the pain."
"When he was far away from my world, it did," Elizabeth admitted.
"But you never forgot, did you?"
"No."
"And I thought you had. I should have known better," Mrs. Moffet chided herself. "Of course, I always thought that there was a touch of sadness in you."
Elizabeth looked up in astonishment.
"I saw it in your eyes. When you laughed, your eyes were always dull as though the laughter did not reach within. You have not the sparkle, of which I know you are capable. I thought it was perhaps because you were lonely or maybe even unhappy here."
"Lonely? Unhappy? Never! I have never regretted a moment of my time with your family. I have loved it here. You and Mr. Moffet have always been more of a friend than an employer. Your three daughters are the sweetest darlings. And your servants all trusting, kind souls. How could I possibly be lonely in such company? And I should hope I was never unhappy when I have the kindest employers in all of England. Why, it would be too mean of me if I were."
"Your praise warms my heart to hear. I suppose I just always thought that you were yearning for a family of your own. A sweet, pretty thing such as yourself has no business being a governess, always pandering to the needs of others. You deserve to have a life of your own. I suppose that is why I encouraged Mr. Simons' attentions when I saw that he was interested in you. It never occurred to me that you were still holding a candle for an old beau. I see now that I was wrong, and perhaps I have made an even worse of a muddle of things. How did things go with Mr. Simons this afternoon? Was I wrong in thinking that he wanted to propose today?"
"No, in that realm your senses proved correct."
"Oh dear, I have made a mess of things, haven't I?"
"Nothing I have not handled before," Elizabeth placated. She thought of the last time she had been proposed to. The difference between that time and this one was that she actually did like Mr. Simons and it pained her to have to hurt him. Mr. Collins was an entirely different matter altogether. There was no one else quite like him - thank goodness.
"He was disappointed, wasn't he?"
"I am afraid so. It was difficult to have to look at him, at his expression. I did not want to hurt him; it was so hard having to say no to him. I almost wished I could give him hope that one day I might grow to love him. But I know that even if I wanted to, I never will. In my heart, there will always be one person for me."
"You are such a good, constant sort of creature," Mrs. Moffet said admiringly.
"But I hurt Mr. Simons in the process. I never meant to and I certainly never meant to encourage him so that he would think he might have a chance," Elizabeth said woefully.
"And you never did. It was me, and my meddlesome self! Oh, how I wish I had stayed out of your business. But I did think I was doing the right thing. I thought that if you could see that someone was in love with you, it might be just the thing you needed for you to become your animate self again. I see now that I was wrong in more ways than one. Oh, Mr. Moffet will be so irritated when he finds out about what I have done. He is always warning me against my matchmaking tendencies. No doubt he will cast this up to me again and again as a sort of lesson."
"Then pray do not tell your husband about it," Elizabeth entreated. "I would just as soon not have him know about any of this anyways."
"Of course!" Mrs. Moffet clasped Elizabeth's hands firmly. "You may rest assured that I will be silent on this matter. Your secret is safe with me."
"Thank you."
"How are you handling all of this?" Mrs. Moffet's eyes were probing. "It cannot be easy for you having to deal with an unwanted suitor and then having to reject him. No wonder you have had a trying day, poor dear. From morning to afternoon, it has been one upheaval after another."
"I feel like the worst sort of person," Elizabeth tearfully admitted. "I know I should be honored and pleased that Mr. Simons would even look at me. He is in every sense eligible, and I have been on the shelf for so long now. That he would even give me a second look should flatter me."
"Eligible, yes. He is intelligent. He is handsome. He is kindness and goodness. And he has a decent living. But he has not your heart. That you cannot help, my dear friend, and you should not feel guilty. Nor should you feel obligated to return those feelings. And you certainly should not think of yourself as woman past her prime. Why, you are quite eligible yourself!"
"You are joshing me, Michele."
"But I am not!" Mrs. Moffet exclaimed, pretending to be affronted by the suggestion.
"Well you are very sweet then," Elizabeth's lips twitched.
Mrs. Moffet sighed wearily. "I feel as though I have not done a good enough job, protecting you. I have failed as your employer."
"Why, what are you saying? How can you think such a thing?"
"You need not try to protect me and make me feel better. You know I am right, for it is through no fault but my own that you are now suffering at the hands of Mr. Simons. If it had not been for me, you would not be in this position today."
"If it had not been for you, who knows what sort of position I would be in today," Elizabeth answered quietly. "I think you are wrong; you have done me no disservice. Another employer would not have encouraged their governess to have an outside interest. You did though because you allowed me, neigh, wanted me to be my own person. For that, I cannot possibly blame you. I am thankful."
Mrs. Moffet smiled and caressed Elizabeth's face in a friendly embrace. "You always know just what to say."
Elizabeth smiled twitchingly. She was glad she could make her employer and friend feel better about herself, but she was still miserable about hurting Mr. Simons's feelings. "I cannot bear to face Mr. Simons right now. I feel as though I should go away. Perhaps if I put distance between us, it would lessen the awkwardness and the pain."
Mrs. Moffet was thoughtful for a minute or two, "I know! You can go to Pemberley in the spring when we travel to Scotland to visit Mr. Moffet's sister."
"No. It is merely wishful thinking on my part," Elizabeth shook her head. "You and the children need me too much. Not to mention, I could not possibly leave you all alone to take care of the children, not when you are traveling all the way to Scotland! I should be remiss in my duties as a governess if I did. Besides, I already told you. There is no way I am going to Pemberley. I cannot go."
"But of course you can! I shall speak to Mr. Moffet about it, so you need not worry at all. He and I will be of one mind on this, I am sure. You are due for a vacation anyways. I know you have been avoiding it because you have not wanted to visit your parents, but now you have an alternative. As for the children and myself, I am confident that between the servants we will be taking as well as all my sister-in-law's servants, not to mention her nurse and governess, there will be plenty of people to watch over them when I cannot. So you see, you are not so indispensable as you imagined."
"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," Elizabeth murmured.
"A compliment, my dear. Definitely a compliment," Mrs. Moffet laughed. "And so, I absolutely insist that you visit your niece and friends at Pemberley. I think it will be good for you, and it will allow you to get away for a month or two. I think you are right. It would be awkward for you and Mr. Simons to meet now, and in such a small town as this one, meetings would be inevitable. I am sure Mr. Simons would be pleased to be spared the embarrassment just as much as you would."
"I don't know..." Elizabeth was torn.
Torn between wanting to go and not wanting to go. Things were much easier when she thought herself needed. But Mrs. Moffet had arranged matters so that she would not be needed, all with a trifling flick of the hand, with little inconvenience to all. Perhaps it would not be so impossible after all. And she could get away from Mr. Simons. But did she want to go? Once again, she seesawed back and forth.
Mrs. Moffet could see the indecision in her friend's face. She could also see that Elizabeth wanted to go, and for her that was enough. "You will go," she announced firmly, as though it was a command.
Elizabeth looked up blankly, not used to having orders issued to her. "You will go," Mrs. Moffet repeated. "And you will enjoy yourself," she predicted.
"If you think so..."
"I do."
"And you are sure you will not need me in Scotland?"
"Positive."
Elizabeth twisted her head to one side, wringing her hands as she thought long and hard. Finally, she agreed to Mrs. Moffet's plan. "All right then. I suppose it will not hurt me to visit Pemberley. And I do want to see my niece, so yes, I will go."
"Capital!" Mrs. Moffet clapped her hands. "I am glad to hear it. And now that we have finally settled that, I think it is time for us to go to bed."
Looking up at the old-fashioned clock on her mantelpiece, Elizabeth leaped out of her seat. "Goodness! I did not realize it was so late. Forgive me for keeping you up so long, Mrs. Moffet."
"Michele," Mrs. Moffet entreated. "And it is I who should apologize for disturbing you in your solace."
"I am glad you did," Elizabeth admitted. "Thank you for coming to talk to me tonight, and for being my friend."
Mrs. Moffet kissed Elizabeth's cheek and squeezed her hand fondly. "Sleep well, my friend."
"Shall we race one another to the garden this morning?" a cheery, girlish voice wended its way up to the second floor of the house where a little boy sat dismally by an open window.
"Aye," a second voice answered. This one was deeper and distinctively male, on the brink of manhood but not quite yet there. "Loser has to do all the weeding. On the count of three."
"Agreed! I will count." There seemed to be a pause. Presumably the two racers were readying themselves for the countdown.
"Ready? One, two..." The girlish voice never reached three for she had naughtily taken off without waiting to sound out the last number.
The second voice was jarred into motion. "Hey, now! Come back here, you cheating scamp!"
"Come on, slowpoke! Come and catch me!" The words, tauntingly spoken, were light and filled with mirth.
Laughter echoed through the countryside and reverberated in the eardrums of the tiny boy who sat by the window, unable to do anything more but sit and watch. Leaning out as far as he dared, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught a glimpse of his friend and cousin racing and laughing as they tripped past one another. They were racing away from the house, racing away from him.
Colin slammed his fist down on the windowsill, fraught with frustration. This was the fourth morning in a row that he had been left to himself. Choking back the tears of want and hurt, he channeled his emotions into the one he knew best. Anger.
He shoved angrily away from the window and rolled himself back to his bedside. Over the weeks when Dickon had been away and he and Mary had become friends, she had finally convinced him to remove himself from his bed and seek a larger world. His legs, however, weak from years without use dangled uselessly beneath him. Even if Colin had been able to use his legs, it was unlikely he would have made it farther than his bedroom. Each day brought new experiences and new challenges, and Colin was taking them one at a time. At first he had been angered to find himself weak and unable to walk. So disheartened was he, that he had immediately turned back to his bed, his comfort, his one safe haven. But Mary had mustered all of her convincing powers to keep Colin out of bed and persuade him to accept the help of a wheelchair until the day came when he would walk by himself again. Now, he rolled back and forth freely around his room.
But as he came astride his bed, Colin realized he had no way of lifting himself up onto the bed. He was still dependent on others when it came to getting in and out of bed. His helplessness angered him even more, and he yanked hard on the bellpull. Colin waited only a minute before venting his anger, yelling and screaming at the top of his lung, demanding that he be attended to immediately. When no one came at the exact moment that he wanted them to, he started pounding his fists on the mattress. He would have kicked it too had he been able to lift his legs.
It took Mrs. Reynolds a full five minutes to come running breathlessly into the room with a harried footman following closely behind. "Colin, my dear child! Whatever is the matter?" It had been some weeks since she had witnessed such a display of anger and churlishness, and she was curious as to what could have set off another one of his fits this morning. "You were in such good spirits when I left you after breakfast."
Colin refused to answer, asking instead, "Why did no one come when I called? Must I remind you all of your duties?"
Lord save us all, Master Haughtiness has returned. I knew it was too good to be true, the thoughts came unwittingly to Mrs. Reynolds and she immediately suppressed them, not wanting to think evil thoughts of a member of the family she so faithfully served.
"I had all the maids engaged elsewhere in the house this morning, and your aunt has been ensconced in the music room ever since she finished her morning repast," the housekeeper good-naturedly explained.
Colin sniffed. "I hope you will remember to try and pay more attention to my needs in the future."
"Of course," Mrs. Reynolds placated. "Was there something you wanted that was so urgent you had to bring the entire house down with your howls and hollering?" she asked sweetly.
Colin's eyes narrowed, knowing that his housekeeper was baiting him. This time, he would not give in. His earlier vulnerability returned as he nearly whispered. "I... I wished to return to my bed."
Surprised, Mrs. Reynolds did not refrain from saying so. "But I thought you wanted to be out of your bed today, so that you could look out your window. It is such a beautiful day and the fresh air would do you a world of good."
"I have change my mind," Colin answered shortly. "There is absolutely nothing that interests me out there this morning."
Right at that moment, a shot of laughter came back through the window from down by the pond. The distance was far enough away that it sounded almost like a squawking bird, but it was not so far away that both Colin and Mrs. Reynolds could not recognize the sound for what it really was. There was no mistaking Mary's laughter followed by Dickon's whooping holler. Colin stiffened noticeably in his chair, and Mrs. Reynolds instantly understood.
Ever since the Colonel had returned to Pemberley with his son, it had been this way. In Dickon's absence, Mary had spent most of her days with Colin. While they had both rebelled at first, after a while they had come to an understanding if not an appreciation for one another. And under Mary's tender and stubborn ministrations, the boy had slowly but surely begun to emerge from his shell. Her feat did not go unacknowledged and it was something for which his aunt and housekeeper would forever thank her. But when Dickon came back to Pemberley, things had begun to go once more awry. Sharing was one of the many things Colin had yet to learn how to do.
Mrs. Reynolds knew that Colin had come to depend on his young friend, and he guarded those that he cared about most jealously. Dickon had finally returned from his trip home and Mary was overjoyed. She was happy to have her friend back; she had missed him in his absence. Her happiness, however, had not flowed over to Colin. Colin had always held an enviable sort of antipathy towards his cousin. Now it was worse. He did not appreciate that Mary now split her time between the two, and that Colin had to share his precious time with Mary with Dickon. It did not seem fair. And it hurt. Colin was confined to his bedroom while the other two roamed free. They shared a camaraderie and friendship that Colin craved, and it only made him more envious, and his temper worse.
Colin was a child who desperately wanted friends, but did not know how to go about securing them.
Nodding her head in sympathetic acquiescence, Mrs. Reynolds placed a soothing palm on Colin's shoulder. "Of course, child. If that is what you wish." She motioned for the footman to help her carry the child to his bed. Once the task was completed, she helped him tuck his covers up around his warm body. "You are probably tired after that last fit you just had. Why do you not rest a while?"
Colin nodded absently, his thoughts elsewhere. Mrs. Reynolds looked at her young master and sighed. She could practically see him regressing back into his old ways before her very eyes. And he had been making such nice progress; it was such a shame.
The brawny, gnarled roots held stubbornly to the ground as Mary tugged and tugged with all her might. Colin was not the only frustrated person that morning. Mary kicked and screamed and yanked at her weeds, willing them to be more cooperative. They were stubborn little things though, and no amount of coercion would force them to uproot.
"Darn, stupid, ridiculous, feckless, annoying, useless, bothersome, things!"
Dickon smiled from across the garden and pretended not to hear her muttered swearing. He was glad no one else was around to hear them though. His mother and Mrs. Reynolds would have an apoplexy if they ever found out that Mary had such a vocabulary. His father would probably tan his hide, thinking that Mary would have learned the words from him. Little did they know Mary was no innocent. Dickon chuckled.
As the loser of the race, Mary had been left with the unpleasant task of weeding while Dickon got to have the far pleasanter task of planting flowers. She was not a gracious loser by any means, and she could not help but cast baleful glances at her friend from time to time. Her opponent, for his part, was rather amused. He was pleased that even with Mary's head start he had managed to still beat her. He also knew what a sore loser his friend was and every time he felt one of her glares piercing into his backside, he chuckled. Of course Mary heard each and every one of them and, displeased by his amusement, her glances would grow even more menacing. It truly was a vicious cycle, Dickon thought wickedly.
With decidedly unfeminine outbursts of "Oomph!" Mary stood firm and gave herself to the battle against the weeds. Almost spent and on the verge of defeat, a brief spurt of energy rendered Mary the victor. Crying out with glee at her final triumph, Mary also tumbled backwards from the force of her pull. Her shout of "Yeah!" turned into "Ow!" as she sat down hard on her backside.
Dickon looked over from his corner of the garden, just in time to see her graceful descent, and giggled as he watched Mary pick herself up and ever so gently rubbed the sore spots. Mary was not amused and looked back at him to tell him so by sticking out her tongue.
"Not very ladylike," he could not resist. A defiant creature, Mary stuck her tongue out even more.
Being the good sport that he was, Dickon merely turned around and with great show, effortlessly pulled out a weed. Tossing it to the growing pile beside him, he picked himself up and bowed.
"Wonderful performance, show off," Mary growled, "but it is really not fair considering how much bigger you are."
"Ah, my fair friend, it is good to hear you finally concede that I am the stronger man," Dickon blithely returned.
Mary only grunted, and returned to her work. Half an hour later, Dickon was beginning to feel remorseful for all his teasing. There was no question that Mary was a trooper and suffered her losses well with no complaints. Dickon respected her even more for that. Now, as he watched her wordlessly applying herself to the task of weeding while absently massaging her sore spots, Dickon knew that he was perhaps taking the game too far. Weeding was an arduous and unpleasant task, and one that should be shared.
He kneeled down beside her and took a struggling weed out of her hand. "Come, let us rest." He led her over to a grassy spot under a shaded tree and handed her a glass of lemonade.
Mary was glad for the reprieve. She had been hot and tired for quite some time now, but had not wanted to give Dickon the benefit of her admittance. Now that it was he who made the suggestion, Mary had no reason to complain. She quickly removed her dirtied gloves and reached for the proffered glass. Sipping the cool drink, she drew a hand across her forehead, unknowingly smudging dirt in its wake. "I am glad you thought to ask Cook for refreshments."
Dickon passed Mary a biscuit. "So am I. I am famished from all this work."
"Me too. Did Cook not wonder about why we needed a hamper?"
"I told her we were going on a picnic." Dickon shrugged. "She did not seem to really care."
He took a biscuit for himself and settled down beside Mary. He took a bite out of his biscuit and turned to Mary. At the sight of her face, Dickon burst out into laughter.
"What?" she asked curiously. Dickon only shook his head, unable to speak.
Shocked, Mary stood up in a huff. "Dickon Fitzwilliam! Whatever are you about today? You are a big bully. You will tease me to no end this morning. Now what is it that I have done?"
Dickon only laughed harder at her outburst. He fell over and clutched his sides.
"You are too mean!" Mary stamped her feet. "If you will be like this, I do not care for your company. I am going back to the house!"
She would have turned back, but Dickon sat up and caught her hand just in time. "Oh no you don't." He tugged on her arm gently, sitting her back down beside him. "I am sorry my little friend. You just looked so much like an Amazon woman with all that mud on your forehead. It looks like war paint and I could not help but laugh."
"Mud?" Mary wrinkled her forehead and put a fingertip there. She touched something cold and clammy there and promptly drew her finger away. She reddened. What an ugly sight I must be.
"Here," Dickon offered her the use of his handkerchief and Mary took it, giving her demure thanks.
He must think me a beast, Mary dabbed the handkerchief over her forehead. Covering her thoughts, Mary returned to her grousing mood. " 'Twas not nice of you to laugh at me so."
Dickon reached for another biscuit and bit a chunk out of its side. He chewed for a few minutes and then swallowed. "Perhaps not, but you were such a sight to behold!"
"Hmph! Mock me. But let us see how you look with mud on your face!" Before Dickon could even prepare himself, Mary reached down and grabbed a fistful of dirt to rub on his face.
"Why you..." Dickon spluttered, spitting out grains of dirt that had fallen into his mouth. Picking up his own fist of dirt, he found that his retaliation came too late. Mary had already picked herself up and was halfway across the garden. Round and around the garden they chased one another until they both landed up on the grass, covered in dirt and filth.
When the remaining vestiges of their laughter had finally subsided, Mary lay flat on her back and breathed in deeply. "Ow. My sides hurt."
"Serves you right," Dickon heaved.
"I hope Mrs. Reynolds does not see me in such a state. She will have a fit."
Dickon tried to regain control of his heavy breathing as well. "You think Battleaxe Reynolds will be displeased, just you wait for my mother!"
"I cannot see your mother ever being angry."
Dickon snorted and then doubled over from the pain. "You have not spent enough time in my mother's company. She is a charming lady to be sure, and for the most part docile as a lamb. But do not cross her!"
"I gather she will not appreciate sight of her son in his bedraggled state?"
"No," he shook his head. "Nor will he appreciate the sight of her ward in a bedraggled state."
Mary sighed. "Shall we try for the backdoors again?"
"I do not think we have a choice!" Dickon heaved himself from the ground and reached down to help Mary up. "Come. It is time we made our ways back to the house."
"You did what?" Colonel Fitzwilliam fairly towered over his wife, standing as he was over her winged-back chair.
Georgiana tried now to cower. Her husband had never given her reason to fear him before, and she was not really afraid of him right now. After all, he was not enraged. More like incredulous. Only, he was very impressive the way he stood lording over her and Georgiana could not seem to help herself.
Colonel Fitzwilliam scratched the back of his neck. He could feel a tick of something pestering him back there. It could be the dust. He had just returned from an invigorating exercise outside, riding neck and leather across the Pemberley fields. Such a ride always refreshed him. He had been looking forward to having a nice soak upon his return, but before he could make his way upstairs, his wife had stopped him. Now he wished she had not, for he had a sneaky suspicion that the tick was not a result of all the dirt and grime which covered him, but was the product of the anxiety he always felt whenever his wife was up to one of her schemes.
"Georgiana..." he sighed impatiently, "I am still waiting for an explanation."
Georgiana jutted out her lips. "I just told you. I invited Miss Elizabeth Bennet to come stay with us. She will be coming late spring."
"That is not very away from now."
"I do not see why this should be so startling to you. She is Mary's aunt after all. It is natural that Mary should have a relative to come visit her, do you not agree?"
"I think it is interesting that you did not see fit to invite any of Mary's other relatives to come visit us at Pemberley."
Georgiana had only met Mrs. Bennet once at the Bingley's wedding, but she certainly had no desire to renew that acquaintance, nor was she disposed to grant her favors on any of Jane Bingley's other sisters. They had left that much of a lasting impression on Georgiana.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Richard. You know I am inviting Miss Bennet because she is Mary's favorite aunt. It hardly seems necessary to invite anyone Mary has no desperate wish to see."
"But she is desperate to see her Aunt Elizabeth?"
"Most desperate."
"And you had nothing to do with that?" Colonel Fitzwilliam raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you have not been planting any seeds in that young child's head?"
Georgiana gasped. "Why Richard! That is the meanest thing you have ever accused me of! How could you? Why would you ever think such a thing of me?"
"Because I think you are conveniently forgetting something. Something very important."
"I have not conveniently forgotten anything."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Oh for heaven's sakes," Georgiana burst out. "There is no need to be so enigmatic about your probing. If you will not ask what you want to know, I shall answer for you instead. Yes, I know perfectly well who Miss Elizabeth Bennet is and that she is someone for whom my brother once held a tendre."
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not seem surprised by his wife's revelation, but he did continue to stare at her.
"I have not the careless memory you must think I possess."
"I only wanted to make sure you knew what you were doing and getting into."
"If Miss Bennet sees fit to take me up on my invitation, I hardly know what objections you could possibly have on the matter."
Colonel Fitzwilliam crossed his arms, still not entirely satisfied with this interview. "It is just that I know you well, wife. Too well, in fact, and I cannot help but have the feeling that there is more. But you will not tell me, and I cannot understand why that should be."
Georgiana tossed her hair. "I know what I am doing, Richard."
He tapped his chin thoughtfully. The Colonel was positive his wife was up to her elbows in something that had to do with Miss Bennet and possibly her brother, but it was clear that she was not going to be more forthcoming at the moment. Fine, he would not pressure her just yet. He would let her come to him on her own time, unless she gave him no choice but to pry. When the time came, he would deal with matters then.
"Very well, Georgiana. You leave me but no choice but to lay my trust in your hands." Bending over, he pecked her on her forehead.
"Thank you." Georgiana wrinkled her nose. "And Richard? You reek of horses." Then she got up and swept past him, leaving him completely behind.
Mary, newly washed and wearing a different dress, crept into Colin's darkened room. Walking quietly over to her friend's bed, she saw that he was lying still but was definitely awake. "Colin?" she whispered. "Mrs. Reynolds told me you were not feeling up to par this morning. Is everything all right?"
Silence.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
Colin squeezed his eyes shut so that she would not see his unshed tears and rolled away. It was a deliberate cut and Mary knew it.
"You are upset," she spoke to his back. "But you will not tell me why."
Silence.
Feeling a little bit hurt, Mary had not yet learned how to keep it out of her voice. "Very well then. Since you will behave this way, I will not press you. I shall leave you to yourself instead. Dickon will be waiting to take tea with me anyways and I dare say his company will be much more enjoyable than this sullen attitude of yours. Good-bye, Colin."
Colin waited until Mary had flounced out of his bedroom before turning back around and hurling a pillow at the back of the door.