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Chapter 9 ~ Parsonage to Let

Posted on 2008-07-29

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a married woman in possession of a good man, is certain her friends must be in want of a husband.

Thus it was, that the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, who for some six months had enjoyed the exalted name and happy life of Mrs Elizabeth Darcy of Pemberley, considered the predicament of her dear friend, Julia Darlington, who that very morning, had departed Derbyshire to return to her mother in Hertfordshire. Elizabeth, in the full flush of conjugal felicity, was eager for her friend to be equally blessed. James Darlington’s first novel had been a great success, and thus Julia was no longer obliged to seek employment as a music teacher. Thankfully, her employment had been of but a short duration, and Elizabeth could see no reason why it should very greatly damage her marriage prospects. Of far greater concern was her friend’s disinclination to seriously consider the subject.

Elizabeth had made great efforts during Julia’s visit to introduce her to a number of suitable gentlemen, including the new rector of Kympton, Mr Fortnum, a most charming and handsome gentleman from an excellent local family of some wealth. Mr Fortnum’s circumstances were comfortable, and while a wife who might bring money into a marriage would be welcome, it was of no necessity. He was a great lover of music, and Elizabeth, having watched him closely, particularly when Julia was at the pianoforte, or violin, or singing, was convinced that he admired her friend greatly. But Julia would not put herself forward, and gave the gentleman not the least encouragement. Elizabeth was forced to conclude, unhappily, that her friend’s heart was still too full of Colonel Fitzwilliam to think of any other man.

There was also her sister, Georgiana, to consider; although she was yet young. Elizabeth was presently engaged in a programme of improvement for Miss Darcy. Georgiana excelled in all the usual accomplishments, but she was still very shy in company, especially that of gentlemen. Elizabeth suspected that her lack of confidence derived, in part, from the unhappy events involving George Wickham when she was but fifteen, and that it would take time before she would again put her trust in a gentleman, or believe that she was admired for herself – rather than her considerable fortune. To that end, Elizabeth had decided upon a course of reading and improvement of the mind. If Georgiana believed herself to be well-informed and knowledgeable, she would learn to trust in her own judgements; and moreover, feel confident in expressing her opinions and ideas without fear. A sharpness of mind was one of the qualities Elizabeth admired most in her husband, and she was pleased to discover that his sister was more than his equal in that regard.

One evening, while sitting with her husband in her upstairs apartment, he commented favourably on the improvements he had observed in his sister. Having seen Elizabeth sport frequently with her brother, who appeared to relish his wife’s playfulness, Georgiana had become aware of his softer side. She found herself more at ease in his company, and confident in answering his questions regarding her reading and general opinions. “You have worked wonders with, Georgiana,” he said gratefully to his wife.

“And yet, I feel there is something more she needs, which I am unable to provide,” replied Elizabeth.

“Oh?” asked he. “What is that?”

“Georgiana is still exceedingly shy in company, outside of the immediate family circle. I wonder if growing up without a mother may be partly the cause,” conjectured Elizabeth.

“When she was younger, Georgiana had excellent governesses, and then later respectable older companions – although one can sometimes be deceived in their character,” he said, frowning as he recalled Mrs Younge and the unfortunate events which had occurred at Ramsgate.

Elizabeth guessed what his thoughts must be. “You must not blame yourself, darling; you did everything you could to benefit and protect Georgiana.” Then endeavouring to divert his mind, she steered the conversation to her intended subject. “Although the connection with your sister may be less than immediately apparent, I wished to enquire about your plans for the parsonage at Kympton. I understand that Mr Fortnum does not intend to take up residence there, being already in possession of a grander family property, nearby.”

“That is correct, dear, but what has this to do with Georgiana? Were you thinking of her marrying Harold Fortnum?” he asked doubtfully.

Elizabeth shook her head. Though she loved him dearly, she sometimes found him quite obtuse in such matters. How could he have failed to notice that it was Julia, not Georgiana, whom she was forwarding as a match for Mr Fortnum. “No darling, not for a moment,” she reassured him.

“I do hope you were not offended at my offering the Kympton living to Fortnum; he is an old acquaintance; the Fortnums and Darcys go back many generations.”

“No, of course not; why ever should I mind?” asked Elizabeth, puzzled.

“Well, I am aware that Charlotte Collins was your closet friend before you both were married and, well… I imagined you would like to have her living close by. Err… there will be other gifts, in the future—”

But he stopped on account of the laughter his comments had provoked in his wife.

“My dear Mr Darcy,” she said, attempting a straight face. “If you dare offer anything in your gift to that absurd Mr Collins, I shall never speak to you again!”

“I am greatly relieved to hear it,” he said.

“As much as I would love to have Charlotte living nearby and frequently dining with us at Pemberley, it would come at far too high a price. In any case, it would be most unkind, and exceedingly unchristian of you to deny Lady Catherine de Bourgh Mr Collins’ obsequious grovelling, from which her ladyship derives such satisfaction. And, it would be equally unkind to Mr Collins, I think, to deny him so haughty and arrogant an object before whom to pay his heartfelt obeisance. Why, they seem to have been designed for each other.”

When they had finished laughing, Elizabeth said, “But getting back to the parsonage; I suppose you are planning on letting it?”

“Yes, that was my intention; but there is no great urgency. Please do not trouble yourself about it, Elizabeth; my steward will take care of the business.”

“It is only that I was thinking it might be possible to find both a tenant, and at the same time, a person who might be able to provide the maternal guidance and counsel which would benefit Georgiana.”

Darcy straightened up in his chair and regarding his wife apprehensively, he said warily, “You mean an older woman, err… such as your mother?”

Elizabeth laughed. How could he think, even for a moment that she would wish to visit such a thing upon him – or herself. “Oh, darling, sometimes you are so delightfully naïve. My mother would hardly answer to the purpose – although, my father might approve of the scheme.”

Darcy laughed sheepishly. “I would prefer it the other way around, I think: having your father at Kympton and your mother in Hertfordshire. I must say, I have come to appreciate his company a great deal, and always enjoy his unexpected visits. But who, then, are you thinking of for the parsonage, Elizabeth?”

“Lady Darlington,” replied Elizabeth. “She is a lovely, warm, wise, lady; and greatly knowledgeable in the ways of the world. Not only would she be perfect for Georgiana, but she would be a great help to me, also. Sometimes, darling, I find myself in situations where I have no idea of the correct way to proceed. Luckily, Reynolds, the housekeeper, has an excellent memory, and is often able to recall how your late mother dealt with a similar circumstance – but not always. Lady Darlington is used to running an establishment of a similar size to Pemberley, and it would be wonderful to have her nearby where I can seek her advice at such times. I have always envied Julia Darlington such a mother. And of course Julia would be living with her. She is now my dearest friend, and Georgiana also loves her. We would all of us be so happy.”

“Yes, it seems like a most agreeable arrangement for all concerned. But Lady Darlington may have no wish of giving up her present house in Hertfordshire and coming into Derbyshire.”

“Oh, that will not be the slightest problem. Lady Darlington and her daughter are presently living in a tiny cottage that was all they could afford at the time they were forced to leave Darlington Hall. Their circumstances, however, are now much improved. James Darlington has been very successful; his first novel is exceedingly popular and he expects to publish his second very soon.”

“So, Lady Darlington wishes to find something a little more comfortable, I take it? But the Kympton parsonage may not suit her. It may be beyond her means – or, perhaps, not grand enough. She may not wish to leave Hertfordshire for Derbyshire. There are many questions for her to consider.”

“But darling, I have already discussed the arrangements in detail with Julia, while she was visiting with us. Julia, Georgiana, and I made an outing to Kympton a week ago in my phaeton, and walked about the parsonage. Julia was delighted with it, and immediately wrote her mother, who is likewise enthusiastic at the plan.”

“So it is all settled then?” asked Darcy, more in amusement than annoyance. Elizabeth never failed to surprise him.

“Of course not, my dear. It is entirely contingent upon your approval; but I did not wish to trouble you about it until I was certain that Lady Darlington approved of the scheme.”

“That was most considerate of you, my dear,” said Darcy, smiling. “I shall have my steward write to Mr Darlington to settle the matter. I will instruct him to make the rent very reasonable.”

“Thank you, dear,” replied Elizabeth. “You are most kind.”

“Err… you wouldn’t happen to know of Mr Darlington’s London address, by any chance?” he asked hesitantly.

“Indeed I do, it is in my writing desk,” she replied, rising to fetch it.

Darcy became grave, but said nothing. He wished very much to know if his wife had exchanged letters with Darlington, but could not ask her so impertinent a question.

“Here it is, dear,” said Elizabeth, handing him a card. “Julia wrote it down for me, expressly for the purpose of settling the matter of the parsonage.”

“Oh, of course,” said Darcy, greatly relieved. Though he had experienced even greater joy and happiness with his beloved Elizabeth than he had dared to imagine, the name of James Darlington always caused him just a little uneasiness.

“Elizabeth, my dear, I have a confession I must make to you,” he said gravely. “One which I ought to have made many months ago… that I have been wishing to make all this time; but somehow have found myself quite unable to begin.”

“Yes, dear?” asked Elizabeth, encouragingly.

Darcy sighed as he attempted to find the right words. “I should really have told you in Hertfordshire, before I asked you to marry me.”

“Oh?”

“If you recall, the renewal of my addresses proceeded from your thanking me for my efforts, regarding the marriage of your sister, Lydia.”

“Darling, you may rest assured that I remember every single word of that delightful conversation; it is one that I shall cherish all my days,” she said, smiling lovingly at him.

“Yes, and I too,” said Darcy with feeling, before continuing on a less confident note. “But, there was something that I really should have told you when you thanked me – which I did not.”

“Well never mind, dear, you may tell me now what you forgot to tell me then; I am sure it cannot be anything so terrible that I would have refused you a second time.”

“No, of course not, it is nothing terrible… it is only that it was not a matter of forgetfulness; it was rather a matter of choosing to conceal something. It was, of course, always my intention to tell you of it, but… I was afraid to mention it until I was certain you would have me,” he said ashamedly. “And then, when you accepted me, I felt so unutterably happy, that I entirely forgot about it.”

“Until now?” she asked.

“No, of course not, it was but a day or two afterwards, but by then it was become more difficult to mention, because I was then obliged to explain my original reticence, and the longer I left it, the more difficult it became.”

“I think you had better tell me at once, my dear, before it becomes even more difficult,” said Elizabeth becoming more and more curious.

“Right then!” said he, steeling himself for the great revelation. “You may recall telling me, that it was your sister Lydia, who first betrayed my involvement in the marriage, and that you then wrote to your Aunt Gardiner, who revealed to you all she knew.”

“Yes dear, it was exactly so.”

“Well, there was something important she could not have written of in her letter; something of which she herself was quite ignorant,” he said with a sigh.

“Yes dear?” prompted Elizabeth.

“All right then, I shall tell you, and think what you will,” he said, desperate to be done with it. “I did not act alone in convincing George Wickham to marry your sister; I received assistance from another quarter, without which it is quite likely the marriage would never have taken place at all.” Darcy heaved a sigh of relief at having finally made a clean breast of it; but he could not quite meet his wife’s eyes.

“Oh, you must mean James Darlington – or perhaps I should say: Josephine Defoe? ”

Darcy looked up at her, completely stunned. “What? You know! My god, for how long have you known of it?” he demanded.

“I had guessed that Josephine Defoe was, in fact, James Darlington some time before the whole business with Wickham and my sister, Lydia. I imagine, my dear, that you have not read A Romance in Four Seasons?”

“As you well know, Elizabeth, I am no great reader of novels. I merely read the author’s note at the end of the chapter, which Mr Darlington handed me to pass on to Wickham.”

“I think you should make an exception in the case of the work of Josephine Defoe; you will very likely find characters and situations therein which strike you as somewhat familiar. The heroine of A Romance in Four Seasons is a young lady by the name of Evelyn, who is strikingly similar to myself in many ways.”

“Then I shall certainly read it,” said Darcy, smiling.

“So you see, darling, as soon as I saw the author’s note, and knowing as I did his true identity, I was in no doubt as to who was being threatened with exposure. I read the chapter a day or so after receiving my aunt’s letter. I always knew that James Darlington was involved in the business.”

Darcy laughed and shook his head. “So I have been worrying about it unnecessarily all these months; how silly of me.”

“But, why ever did you wish to conceal it from me in the first place?” asked Elizabeth, smiling innocently – although she had long ago answered that very question to her own satisfaction.

“The truth of the matter, dearest Elizabeth, is that I was for a time uncertain of your feelings for James Darlington. I feared he might be a competitor for your heart; which is why I was so awkward around you when I visited Longbourn with Bingley, and then again at the dinner party. You know not the anguish I felt at observing your long and intimate tête-à-tête with Darlington across your parents’ drawing room that evening.”

Elizabeth laughed. “But we were talking of you!”

“Me?” asked Darcy in astonishment.

“Yes, dear. I thanked him for Josephine Defoe’s efforts in forwarding my sister’s marriage, and he responded by telling me that his part was but a minor one, and that all was owed to another – while looking pointedly in your direction. He even conjectured that the other party might have a hidden motive in the matter.”

“Did he, indeed? He’s a jolly decent chap, Darlington; amazing perspicacity; although at times, I must admit, it borders on the alarming.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Elizabeth with a smile, “it can be quite alarming.”

Darcy looked at his wife curiously, waiting for her to speak further on the subject of Darlington’s abilities to fathom the hearts and minds of others – or indeed anything at all about that gentleman; but she remained silent, and instead rose and sat herself beside him on the couch. “You deserve a kiss, darling, for being so brave in finally making your confession.”

Although Darcy was no longer jealous of James Darlington, he sometimes wondered what Elizabeth might have once felt for that gentleman before their marriage. He was well aware that given Darlington’s circumstances, neither of them could have seriously contemplated marriage. But what if it had been different, he asked himself. What if Darlington had not been impoverished?

Elizabeth, who was not wanting in perspicacity herself, particularly concerning her husband, had some inkling of these unasked questions. If ever he summoned the courage to ask them, she would have not the least difficulty in answering them to his satisfaction. She sometimes even thought of introducing the subject herself; but, on the whole, she decided that for a husband to have just the tiniest doubt concerning his wife’s affections, was not entirely a bad thing

Posted on 2008-08-01

Elizabeth’s third Christmas at Pemberley was a time of great happiness and joy; not only for herself and her husband, but for the many friends who joined them for the festivities of the season. Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were with them once again, along with all their delightful children, much to the delight of Elizabeth and her sister Jane, who was visiting with her husband Charles. Lady Darlington and Julia, who had now resided some eighteen months at the nearby parsonage at Kympton, were much at Pemberley, along with James Darlington who was up from London for his first lengthy visit. Only two of those invited had been unable to join them: Caroline Bingley, whom Elizabeth had felt obliged to invite, and was much relieved when that lady chose to stay in town with her sister; and Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had politely declined the invitation, claiming a prior engagement at Rosings Park. He had, in fact, declined all invitations to visit Pemberley since Julia Darlington had taken up residence at Kympton, Elizabeth reflected sadly. He must still be very much in love with her.

Lady Darlington advised Elizabeth concerning the multitude of arrangements, which might otherwise have overwhelmed her. One of the highlights of the season was the musical performances in the evenings. Under Julia’s continued instruction, Georgiana was by now almost the equal of her teacher on the pianoforte. Elizabeth’s programme of self-improvement for her sister had achieved very pleasing results. She was now a well-informed young lady, in music, art, literature, and also history and natural science; which, conjoined with the steady guidance and encouragement she received from Lady Darlington, had greatly improved her confidence and poise in company. She played and sang before the many guests without the least embarrassment.

On occasion, Julia or James Darlington would accompany Georgiana on the violin, or one would play the violin and the other the viola. Elizabeth, who declined to play in the company of such fine musicians, was occasionally persuaded by her husband to sing. On one memorable evening, James Darlington and Georgiana sang a set of Italian love duets, accompanied by Julia on the pianoforte. They both possessed remarkable voices, and the whole party sat enraptured.

Afterwards, while they were taking supper, Elizabeth said to her husband, “Darling, I have just had the most wonderful idea! Let us ask Mr Darlington to make a portrait of Georgiana during his visit. It is some years since last she was painted. It would be wonderful to have another made now. If it is really good, it might hang in the picture-gallery alongside your portrait and mine – the one Mr Darlington presented to us on our wedding.”

Darcy felt everyone looking at him. Darlington was smiling, probably recalling the day he came with Elizabeth’s portrait to Grosvenor Square. Afraid that Darlington might make mention of it, Darcy quickly replied, “I fear, my dear, that Mr Darlington is too much occupied with his literary pursuits at present, to have time for other arts.”

“Not at all, Darcy, it would be my pleasure, if the young lady wishes it. Although, I must warn you, I am quite out of practice. I have not exercised my art in these two years, at least. I can in no way promise that it will be as fine as the one that now graces your picture-gallery – my pièce de résistance,” he said turning and bowing his head slightly to Elizabeth.

“An artist, I believe, should always strive to improve upon his art, and to better his previous efforts,” she responded. “And I cannot think of a more suitable subject for such an endeavour than our dear Georgiana.”

James Darlington did not fail to note the mischievous tone in her voice, and wondered at her meaning. She smiled at him playfully, then turned her eyes towards Georgiana, who was struggling to maintain her poise beneath all the attention. Lady Darlington, who was sitting beside her, squeezed her hand gently, and said, “My dear, I think it a wonderful idea to have you painted at this time of life. I wish very much that I had a portrait of myself, in the full flush of youth; it would have been something to look back upon later in life. Please agree to sit for James; it would give me such pleasure.”

“Very well,” agreed Georgiana, who felt such affection for the older lady, that she could not refuse her.

The following morning, James Darlington arrived with his artist’s paraphernalia, and was led by Elizabeth to the conservatory, which, it had been agreed, would provide the best light for the time of year. Georgiana, who was seated with a book, rose from her chair to exchange greetings with the gentleman, who moved her chair out of the sunlight she had been enjoying.

“I apologise, Miss Darcy, at depriving you of the little sunshine the season offers, but direct sunlight will not do; it is too variable, and just as likely to disappear when a cloud comes along.”

“Oh, it is no matter, sir, the conservatory is deliciously warm, even out of the sun; I often come here to read, especially in winter,” replied Georgiana, seating herself once more.

“It was fortunate, Mr Darlington, that you had your painting equipment with you,” observed Elizabeth as he was setting his things in place.

“They were, in fact, in storage at Kympton. I have very little space in my London rooms. As I told you last night, it has been a very long time since last I wielded a paint brush. If I am not mistaken, I have not painted since the day you encountered me in the lane near my mother’s house, making a summer version of the landscape, with you standing beneath that lovely oak tree. The very same spot, in fact, where I painted your portrait. Which reminds me, I must pay a visit to your picture-gallery; my mother tells me it contains some very fine paintings… and I am eager to reacquaint myself with your portrait, and revisit the height of my artistic achievement.”

“I think you may find, sir, that those qualities which served you so well on that occasion are merely awaiting the chance to express themselves again,” said Elizabeth, smiling at him, then turning her gaze towards Georgiana, who was more aware than they imagined of the undercurrent of their conversation.

James Darlington turned to regard Georgiana. She was grown into a handsome young lady, and there was something about her face, an inquisitive intelligence in the eyes and a hint of playfulness – or perhaps it was the mouth which gave her that touch of impishness. “It will be hard to do Miss Darcy justice,” said Darlington in a voice which expressed apprehension, rather than any intention of flattery, “but I shall give it my best.”

“I shall leave you to your work then,” said Elizabeth, “I must speak with Reynolds about arrangements for dinner. But perhaps you might first ask Miss Darcy to assume the pose you require,” said Elizabeth, with a smile. The gentleman’s face showed a consciousness which convinced her that he recalled her acute embarrassment when he had touched her in order to turn her head in the required direction when he painted her. She wished to spare Georgiana any similar embarrassment.

The artist succeeded in getting his subject into the desired attitude without the need of physical contact, and took up his brush and palette. “You know, this easel was given to me by my parents on my twelfth birthday; at that time, my heart was set upon becoming an artist. Art was my first love; but later I discovered music, and it has since remained my greatest love.”

“It is sometimes like that with people, also, Mr Darlington,” said Elizabeth with a wry smile, before exiting the conservatory.

“May I enquire what you were reading when we interrupted you earlier?” asked James Darlington as he set to work.

“It is an anthology of poetry,” replied Georgiana.

“What poem were you reading?”

“Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love’s day;” recited Georgiana.

“Marvel, ‘To his Coy Mistress’, I think,” said he, continuing,
“Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires.

“How does it end?” he asked her.

“And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.”

“A wonderful poem; though I am a little surprised that your brother allows you to read such poetry,” said Darlington with amusement.

“My brother has nothing to say concerning what I read. My sister Elizabeth makes suggestions, but she allows me read what I will. It was you mother, Lady Darlington, who lent me the anthology – it is yours, I believe.”

“Yes, very probably it is. If my mother believes you mature enough for such subjects, I am sure she must be right.”

“Her ladyship recommended this poem to me – as instructive. For while this genre of carpe diem poetry is often exciting and agreeable, and full of the joy of life, there is also much to be learned from it,” she replied decidedly.

“Oh?” said James Darlington in mild surprise.

“Such poetry prepares a young lady for the many and varied gentlemanly artifices that might collectively be termed seduction.”

“Ah… yes, I see her point,” said James Darlington, smiling.

“Please do not think me obsessed with the subject, but you must know that I have a substantial fortune, and sadly, I must expect to be a target of fortune hunters,” she said, giving a heartfelt sigh.

James Darlington could not but be touched by her sadness, and sought to turn her mind to other subjects. “What poets do you like? I mean, that you would read for pleasure, rather than instruction?”

“They are not necessarily set in contradiction – a poem may be both pleasurable and instructive. The Marvel poem is one such, and he is a favourite of mine; along with Byron, Cowper and Pope – and Shakespeare of course. But my very favourite is John Donne.”

“I am most surprised,” said the gentleman, stopping his work. “He is little known, and not at all in favour. I am astonished that you even managed to find anything of his.”

“I must confess, I came upon his work while looking through your mother’s library at Kympton. I believe many of the books are yours, from your time at Cambridge. I hope you do not mind?”

“No, not in the least. I have far too many books to keep them all with me in town, although I believe that the best of my Donne collection must be there – I like to have him close at hand.”

“Is he your favourite also?” asked Georgiana.

“Indeed so.”

“I have read some of your poetry,” she said.

“Yes, I imagine you could hardly escape it in my mother’s house,” he said with a grin. “I see you are a serious reader and a critic of poetry, so I shall not embarrass us both by asking your opinion on my meagre efforts, I might find it discouraging.”

“On the contrary, your poetry is very much to my taste, and if you devoted the same energy to poetry as you do to prose, I think you might equally leave your mark there,” she said forthrightly, without the least trace of shyness.

“Unfortunately, writing poetry is a luxury I can ill-afford at the present time. It is not at all profitable, and sadly I need to earn an income by my pen. Who is your favourite author?” he asked.

“Of novels?”

“Yes. Or do you side with Fordyce in the matter, and consider novels to be a contaminating influence upon young ladies?”

Georgiana laughed. “On the contrary, I rather side with my sister, who shares my love of novels. Our favourite author, together with almost every other young lady in England, is Josephine Defoe. And there is no need to pretend otherwise, Mr Darlington, for it is at least two years since I learned that Josephine Defoe is your nom de plume.”

“My dear mother again?” he enquired with resignation.

“No, Elizabeth, revealed it. I was remarking upon the exceptional similarities between herself and the heroine, Evelyn, in A Romance in Four Seasons. They seemed too great to be mere coincidence. She confided in me the true identity of the author, and that you had modelled Evelyn upon herself, and the hero, Jason, upon yourself and my brother.”

James Darlington looked up to find Georgiana staring at him with a very inquisitive gaze. “Were you in love with my sister at the time that you wrote it?”

“Good heavens, what gave you such an idea? Has she said something to you on the subject?”

“No-one has spoken a word to me on the subject. And although it amused me that you used her character for Evelyn, I never for a moment considered the possibility of anything romantic between you and Elizabeth.”

James Darlington said nothing and busied himself with his work.

“At least not until last night, when Elizabeth first suggested you paint me, and more particularly this morning, when I began observing you both more closely and noticed the cryptic exchanges; and subtle body movements and expressions of the face. Although there was nothing at all subtle about the way you blushed just now at my question… and the manner of your answer.”

“Have you made a study of physiognomy, Miss Darcy?”

“No, I have read but little on the subject. My study has been of people. Being many years younger than my brother, I was used, very often, to find myself surrounded by his acquaintances. For many years, I felt too shy to speak amongst them, so I passed my time in observation. I am particularly fascinated by the way people often say one thing, while attempting to convey an entirely different meaning, when in all likelihood they actually feel and believe something yet different again.”

“You are indeed an acute observer, Miss Darcy,” said James Darlington, smiling.

“And I am very quick to notice those devices people sometimes use to change the subject, or avoid an awkward question – as you did just now,” she answered with just the hint of a smile.

“Surely, Miss Darcy, being so alert an observer of the myriad steps and intricate finesses of the social waltz, you must realise that one of the rules of the dance is to pretend not to understand what people wish not to be understood.”

“Oh, yes, I am well aware of that; and your most knowledgeable mother has given me excellent dancing lessons. But sometimes it is pleasant, is it not, to leave the whirl and the noise of the ballroom; and to lower the mask of the masquerade, and speak plainly, without artifice and ambiguity.”

“Most people, I think, would find such a suggestion disquieting.”

“But not you, I think, Mr Darlington.”

James Darlington was by this time, so interested in Miss Darcy’s words, that he had laid down his brush. “You are correct, Miss Darcy; how did you guess?”

“Lady Darlington has become a very close friend these eighteen months, if I may make so presumptuous a claim. She speaks of you often, and always in the most glowing terms.”

“You will, doubtless, have noticed her penchant for blind partiality towards me,” he said with a smile.

“Oh yes, of course,” replied Georgiana, “that is most obvious, and to the credit of her loving heart. Lady Darlington has spoken often of your independent spirit; as a child, a youth, and now a man. It makes me think how lucky you and Julia were to have parents who allowed you such freedoms. I was very young when my own parents died, and my aunt chose my governesses.”

“Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”

“Yes, do you know my aunt?”

“More by reputation than acquaintance; and since you expressed a desire to speak plainly, I will tell you my opinion… no, she is your aunt; you shall not hear it. All I shall say is that it is not favourable, and that she is the very last person I would have wished to choose a governess for myself.”

“Yes,” sighed Georgiana. “They were all of them competent ladies, no doubt, and they certainly worked me hard; but they were totally lacking in imagination.”

“But you were not?”

“No, never. I was obliged to strive slavishly for all the usual graces and attainments befitting a young lady; but it left a good deal of time for me to question all that I observed going on around me. However, it was not until Elizabeth became my sister two years ago, that there was a person with whom I could actually speak of such matters; which I believe, brings us back to the question you have been so assiduously avoiding.”

James Darlington picked up his brush and resumed his work while he considered how best to answer the question. “It seems you wish for us to speak plainly to one another, and I must say, I find it rather refreshing. Although I may simply say, ‘I do not wish to answer the question.’ It would be an honest answer.”

“Yes, agreed, it would be both honest and reasonable; although I would naturally take it to mean yes.”

James Darlington sighed, and worked silently for a few minutes before speaking. “The truth of the matter is that I am uncertain. I was greatly attracted to Elizabeth – excuse me, Mrs Darcy – but knowing it was entirely impossible, given my circumstances, I did not allow myself to think very much about her. I have a highly disciplined mind.”

“And she was attracted to you.”

“My god, what a question!” said Darlington, shaking his head.

“It was not a question,” corrected Georgiana, “but a statement; a deduction based upon my observations.”

“Then you probably know more of the matter than I,” said the gentleman, smiling. “But one thing I am very certain of, from my own observations at the time: her attraction to your brother was far stronger.”

“And now Elizabeth feels sorry for you. She fears that she may have broken your heart, and so she is attempting to make amends by forwarding a match between you and me.”

James Darlington was so stunned at her words that he dropped his brush and began to laugh.

Georgiana became uncomfortable at his mirth. “Do you think it so funny, sir, so unlikely? It seemed hidden in the language she used this morning; or did I perhaps misunderstand her cryptic words?”

“No, Miss Darcy, your understanding is perfect. I too, was aware of her intention; it is almost certainly the reason she asked me to paint your portrait. The reason for my laughter is the way in which you speak in so explicit a manner on such a subject. I have never experienced so direct a conversation in my life.”

“Please do not misunderstand me, Mr Darlington. I do not believe that she is forwarding the match in your interest only – or even primarily for your benefit – I am quite certain that she believes the match to be very much in my own interest also. I love Elizabeth dearly; and have the highest opinion of her. I am certain she would always do the very best for me.”

“But you are yet young for your sister to be thinking of you marrying, Miss Darcy; you cannot yet be twenty years of age.”

“I am not; and I do not think Elizabeth wishes me to marry yet. This is probably the beginning of a long term campaign. Since we are being candid, Mr Darlington, I must tell you that you should not entertain any hope that I would ever accept you.”

James Darlington smiled. “Then I am very glad that I did not ask you to marry me.”

“I shall be sure to tell you, if I should have a change of heart,” she replied, with just the trace of a smile. “Please do not feel offended. There are two very good reasons why I could not accept you: firstly, you are too poor. You may think that avaricious of me, since I have a large fortune, myself. It is only that I have an excessive fear of being duped by a fortune hunter; and the only certain way of avoiding such an eventuality is to never consider a man who is less wealthy than myself.”

“No matter how successful my writing career, I shall certainly never have anything approaching you fortune, Miss Darcy, so there is the end of my unstarted suit. I must admit to being surprised, that with your evident ability at divining the character and intentions of others, you feel you would be unable to recognise so mercenary a motive in a would-be suitor.”

“May I ask that our conversation remain confidential, sir?”

“That was already my understanding, but you have my explicit confirmation.”

“When I was fifteen years old, I was deceived by a fortune hunter into believing that he loved me and I him. It was only my brother’s unexpected arrival a day before we were to elope, that prevented it.”

“I see,” said Darlington sadly; keenly aware of the scar that remained. “So you determined to become an adept in the study of character; in which endeavour you have succeeded admirably. And in so doing you have penetrated the pretences and ritual dances of society.”

“Yes, exactly,” she said.

“Yet despite these prodigious skills, still you are fearful of another deception. It must have been entirely awful for you,” he said with gentle sympathy. “But this worry will not remain with you forever – it will disappear when you are happily married to a wealthy gentleman,” he said encouragingly.

“Yes, you are quite correct, I had not considered that.” Georgiana laughed. “Oh dear, then I shall never be relieved of that particular fear; for I do not intend to marry. That was the second reason why I could not have accepted you, Mr Darlington.”

“That is a very unusual decision for a young lady – especially one… how can I put it without giving you the wrong impression? Miss Darcy, you are probably one of the most eligible young ladies in England. Even restricting yourself to gentlemen of the requisite wealth, you are certain to be greatly sought after. You are of a noble family, you excel in all the attainments, and you have charm, manners… and extraordinary beauty.”

“You offend me, Mr Darlington, by extolling my ornamental virtues!” she said warmly.

James Darlington sighed. “You misunderstand me, Miss Darcy; I was merely listing your virtues, measured in the conventional currency of marriageable worth. To me, your intelligence, learning, thirst for knowledge, honesty, and penetration of character and artifice, are far more admirable qualities; but they are of little worth in the matrimonial marketplace.”

Georgiana laughed. “You are forgiven, Mr Darlington; you echo my own opinions and analysis of marriage most amusingly. Matrimony seems so much like a business transaction.”

“Yes… and yet… there are those who find happiness therein. Take your own brother and sister, or Mr and Mrs Bingley, for example; I think they have all found great happiness with their partner. You are yet young to be so cynical.”

“I agree that those you mention are indeed happy. But look how many are not –including those who once fancied themselves in love. Even love is no guarantee of happiness, it can fade – or simply be imagined,” she said sadly.

“As you once imagined yourself in love with that fortune-hunting rogue?”

“Exactly! Love cannot be trusted; marriage is a gamble. So why should I contemplate it? I am perfectly happy as I am, now that I have the most wonderful sister in the world; and the dearest friend in Julia, and the love and wisdom of your mother, who is truly like a mother to me. I have no need of anything else.”

“I suppose that makes me almost a brother then?” said he with a smile. “I hope we shall be friends, always.”

“I too,” said Georgiana earnestly. “Then I can ask you to teach me that Mozart piano concerto you played the evening before last. Please say you will. And if you have time you could help me with the violin. I have been studying with Julia for over a year. She plays wonderfully well, but you have a way of playing… oh, it seems like you are pouring out your soul. I know these things must come from within, but if you would play with me, perhaps I could begin to comprehend something of your art.”

“It seems that you intend to keep me busy while I am in Derbyshire,” he said with a laugh. “You must leave me a little time for writing; I have a novel to complete.”

“Yes, of course; but since you are now engaged in painting, it is an excellent opportunity to ask you about your writing. I wish to know how you go about it,” she said, enthusiastically.

“Do you write yourself?” asked he; quite certain of what the answer would be.

“Oh yes, I have always written, for as long as I can remember. I have tried to write poetry, of course, but I do not find it as enjoyable as story writing. That is what I especially wish to ask you: how do you devise your plot and your characters; and which comes first?”

“Generally, I start with a vague plot – or at least the beginnings of one; often I am uncertain as to how it will end – I may have several possible endings in mind. Next I choose my principal characters and decide upon their attributes: the sort of people they are, the things they wish for in life, and so on. As you already know, I borrow heavily from my own acquaintance; but I often create a character from two or three different people, using different attributes from each. Then I place them in a scene, and let them behave according to their disposition.”

“Goodness, how frightfully interesting,” said Georgiana, fascinated. “It seems almost like watching a play for the first time. You put your characters on the stage, and observe how they think and speak and behave; is that it?”

“Exactly, and just like a play, it is often exciting or amusing. I find sitting somewhere peaceful without a pen in hand; or, better still, walking, are good ways to imagine how the story might proceed. I visualize various conversations or incidents, often several times over; each time developing differently, until I am satisfied.”

“Thank you, I shall try it. If I have some success and produce something with which I feel sufficiently satisfied, would you be kind enough to look at it, just to give me your opinion?”

“Certainly, I will be most happy to oblige you – and interested, to see what your fascinating mind creates.”

“You are most kind to me. I am so glad we are friends; but there is one thing.”

“Yes?”

“You called me an ‘extraordinary beauty’ before. You must not speak so. Please do not flatter me; you must promise to be always honest and truthful,” said Georgiana very seriously.

Despite her seriousness, James Darlington could not help but laugh. “Pray excuse my laughter, it is just that young ladies, in general, go to great lengths to provoke the admiration and compliments of gentlemen – whereas you wish for the very opposite. I am curious to know how you get on with your brother. He is such a proper and traditional sort of gentleman.”

“It is true that he used to be much as you describe it; but since marrying Elizabeth, he has become somewhat less conventional; but more importantly, he has come to admire and appreciate the value of originality in his wife.”

“Yes, she is indeed unique,” said Darlington reflectively. “But tell me honestly: do you really not consider yourself beautiful?”

“No, of course not. Handsome, I believe, is the appropriate classification. I am not really beautiful – not like Elizabeth or Jane Bingley – or your sister, Julia. They are all of them, very beautiful ladies, but not I,” she said decidedly.

“And has no one ever said to you that you are beautiful?”

“Yes, of course, people are always saying it. But it is just to be polite or encouraging. I never take such pleasantries seriously.”

“A person’s appearance changes over time, and often rapidly at your time of life. Seeing them each day, we often barely notice the changes, and rather see the old image we have of them fixed in our mind. The same is true of our own selves, looking at our reflection in the mirror each day. Whereas, those who see us but infrequently, are far more apt to notice the changes.”

“You last saw me twelve months ago; do you find me much altered?”

“Indeed I do. You have blossomed from a handsome young lady into a beautiful young woman.”

“Do you speak completely honestly, without flattery?” asked Georgiana; curious, but not the least bit embarrassed.

“I do.”

“But I am not really beautiful – not like Elizabeth, am I? Please be honest.”

He thought for a while before answering. “Before today, I would have said no, you are not as beautiful as she. But now… I think you are.” Georgiana said nothing, she appeared puzzled.

“True beauty lies not in the external surface alone; it also involves the spirit that lies within, that animates a person; that shines from the eyes, shapes the lips, forms the face, and moves the body. But more than this, the true appreciation of another requires an understanding… an intimacy, if you will.”

“Beauty, as the age-old adage goes, is in the eye of the, beholder?” she conjectured.

“Our entire world is in the eye of the beholder – our own eye – or mind, more rightly.”

“You have tricked me; instead of answering my question, you have said simply that there is no objective answer,” she complained.

“That is true. But I did give you my subjective answer: I find you very beautiful.”

Georgiana had no reply to make; she was perfectly satisfied. Had she examined her thoughts more deeply, she might have asked herself why the estimation of the world mattered not to her, but that of the gentleman presently before her had come to matter a great deal.

James Darlington worked silently to complete the portrait as he marvelled over their conversation. Before either of them spoke again, Elizabeth returned and immediately surveyed his work. She admired it in rapt silence for a long time before saying. “Mr Darlington, to my untrained eye, it appears that you have indeed surpassed your previous mark.”

Georgiana rose from her chair and stood beside Elizabeth to survey the work. She seemed struck dumb, as she stared at the portrait shaking her head slightly from side to side.

“It not only portrays Georgiana’s delicate beauty,” commented Elizabeth, “but it somehow conveys so many aspects of her character. It is unfathomable how you achieved this on so slight an acquaintance.”

“Oh, Mr Darlington and I are by this time very well acquainted,” replied Georgiana. “We have been talking together the whole morning, and yet… I see aspects of myself in this painting about which we did not talk – moods and feelings for which I hardly have words. How did you accomplish this feat, sir?”

James Darlington smiled, but made no reply.

“If I recall correctly, Mr Darlington, when you painted me, you said: ‘You have somehow inspired me to a greater art than I have ever before attained.’ It would seem that great inspiration has visited you a second time,” said Elizabeth with a sly smile

Posted on 2008-08-05

“Elizabeth, my dear, have you had any success in persuading Georgiana to accompany us to town for the season?” asked her husband one evening as they relaxed in the privacy of her upstairs apartment. The Christmas festivities were now over, and their visitors all departed. In a few weeks, they would be going to London to stay at Grosvenor Square. Julia was as much decided against joining them as Georgiana. Elizabeth had not the least doubt that Julia wished to avoid meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam; and that furthermore, she had not the slightest wish of becoming acquainted with any other gentleman, which the visit to London would afford. Elizabeth would miss them both; but looked forward to seeing much of her sister, Jane, who was to be in London with Bingley, and Kitty also, who was to divide her stay in town between them.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I have made not the least headway on the subject. Regrettably, Georgiana has the Darcy stubbornness,” she said, smiling playfully.

“I believe the correct word is resolve, darling. But in any case, I have often observed that you find little difficulty in overcoming the famous Darcy resolve, when you so wish,” he said returning her sly smile. “But perhaps I am more susceptible to your charms than my sister.”

“I certainly hope so, dear. As a general rule, Georgiana is most willing to take my advice, and also that of Lady Darlington. But in this particular matter, her resolve is quite marked.”

“What I do not understand, is why she does not wish to come with us to town. I always thought that spending the season in town was the first object of every young lady, and that the prospect of a ball, given in honour of her coming out into society, was her heart’s desire.”

“Your sister is not every young lady, darling. As much as you love her, I sometimes wonder if you fully appreciate her unique character. She has very strong ideas about what she wants, and is in no way influenced by the general expectations regarding a young lady of her age and station in life. One of the very first things she ever confided in me was that she had no wish to marry – ever.”

“Good heavens! Why did you not tell me?”

“Because I knew it would cause you unnecessary anxiety, my dear – as I see it doing at this very moment. Georgiana was then but seventeen years of age; her opinions and ideas are not set for life. We must be patient. She is exceptionally intelligent, and in no way naïve concerning the world. She must be allowed to decide her own future.”

“But what if her opinion on marriage does not change?”

“Then she shall not marry. If it is her considered choice, I see no great harm in it. Georgiana is independently wealthy; she has no need of a husband for her material comfort and security. I, for one, should be happy for her to remain with us at Pemberley forever, if she so wishes.”

“Yes, of course she should remain at Pemberley. But I would much prefer to see her well-married. Elizabeth, my dear, it may be entirely my imagination, for I readily admit to a lack of penetration in such matters, but I had the impression of an attachment developing between my sister and James Darlington. They seemed to be spending a great deal of time in each other’s company. They passed many hours together in the music room; and I came upon them several times in the library, discussing some book or poem. I even encountered them walking in the grounds, with their heads together deep in conversation on more than one occasion. Do you suppose that James Darlington might convince Georgiana to reconsider her views on marriage? Do you think him suitable for her?”

Elizabeth could not help but smile. “I am certain there is no more suitable gentleman for your sister in all of England.”

“It is a great misfortune that Mr Darlington’s circumstances force him to earn a living. While I do not hold it against him, or think the less of him for it, there are those who would. There are those who would object that he is no longer a gentleman, and would cut him and exclude him from their society.”

“Such as your aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for instance?”

Darcy laughed, “Almost certainly.”

“I doubt very much that your sister would heed the disapprobation and decrees of your aunt, on the suitability of a marriage partner – any more than you did, my dear.”

Darcy smiled. “Sadly, there are many others beside my aunt who are fastidious on such matters, and would prohibit him from their acquaintance. Georgiana, were she to marry Darlington, would likewise suffer. Surely there must be a number of eligible gentlemen of rank who would be suitable for my sister?”

“Certainly there are,” replied Elizabeth, “but I very much doubt that there are many who could please her, or who would have it in their power to make her happy.”

“Oh?”

“Georgiana is exceptionally intelligent; she thinks deeply about things and refuses to restrict her thoughts, interests, and opinions to the popular mould. She could not possibly be happy with a partner who did. She could not respect a man who was her intellectual inferior – which pretty much eliminates every potential candidate.”

“Except for Darlington? You know, dear, I always found him fascinating and highly intelligent, but I often felt uncomfortable and just a little uneasy in his company. His ideas are so unconventional – and at times, quite provoking. But lately, during his recent visit to Derbyshire, I found myself quite at ease with him. Do you think he has changed?”

“No, not a great deal. I suspect it is more you who have changed, my dear. You are not so conventional and rigid in your opinions as formerly,” said Elizabeth with a smile.

Darcy laughed. “For which, no doubt, I must give you credit?”

“Yes, of course, dear. Although you were entirely perfect when we married, it has not stopped me from making improvements,” she said smiling archly.

Darcy gave a contented sigh. “So, what of my sister and Darlington? Is there any likelihood of them marrying, do you think?”

“They like each other very much; of that I am convinced. It began as friendship and a mutual delight in the company of the other, but I suspect it may have taken on a romantic aspect of late. Georgiana is not yet ready to marry – and to be perfectly honest, I would be very sad for her to leave Pemberley; she has become so very dear to me. As for Mr Darlington, I have not the least idea; although I suspect that he too may be in no hurry to marry.”

“Then you must do what you can to forward an eventual match, my dear,” said Darcy earnestly.

Elizabeth laughed. “But what do you think I was doing the whole time Mr Darlington was in Derbyshire?”

“Oh?” said Darcy. “So that was why you had him paint her portrait?”

“Of course, dear,” replied Elizabeth, kissing him affectionately.

Several days following this conversation, Elizabeth and Georgiana were sitting in the morning room when a servant brought the mail. “There is a letter for you, Georgiana,” said Elizabeth.

Georgiana eagerly rose from her seat, to take it and after glancing at the handwriting she said anxiously, “I hope, Elizabeth, that you do not think it improper for Mr Darlington and I to exchange letters. I assure you, there is not the least impropriety in the subjects upon which we correspond.”

Elizabeth smiled. “The general view on the matter is that it is most improper. This is predicated on the assumption that since the nature of the correspondence is private and unknown, the very worst must be suspected… and the worst might well be improper. However, I trust both you and Mr Darlington, and accept your assurances that there is nothing improper in your letters. I therefore give you my sanction, although I caution you not to let your correspondence become generally known. For the moment it may be best if even your brother is unaware of it.”

“Oh, thank you, Elizabeth,” said Georgiana, giving her sister a hug before sitting down, eager to read her letter.

Elizabeth was pleased to find a letter from Charlotte, which she opened and began reading. “Oh, no, poor Julia!” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Why? What has happened?” asked Georgiana, looking up from her letter.

“It is a report concerning two of your cousins. My friend, Charlotte Collins, who, as you know, is married to the rector at Hunsford, and is much connected with Rosings Park, writes that your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, has lately been visiting there, and that your aunt is most industriously forwarding a match between him and her daughter, Anne.”

“Oh, my poor cousin!” exclaimed Georgiana.

“Of which cousin do you speak?”

“Colonel Fitzwilliam, of course! He has been a favourite of mine since I was very small. Whenever he visited Pemberley, he would bring me small gifts and play with me. He always took the kindest interest in me; whereas my cousin, Anne, I hardly know. She has never visited Pemberley, that I can recall. I have only seen her on visits to Rosings Park; and even then she never speaks. Oh how could he contemplate marriage to Anne? She is so utterly dull and lifeless.”

“Yes, that was my impression also,” said Elizabeth, letting out a sigh. “Charlotte is of the opinion that Colonel Fitzwilliam cares not the least bit for Anne, and has not the slightest wish of marrying her; but that Lady Catherine, upon whom he is almost entirely dependant, is determined that they shall marry. I suppose you know that it was her intention that her daughter and your brother should marry? She was most displeased when I thwarted her plans. So now she seeks to marry Anne to her other nephew, despite his lack of wealth. I wonder what Anne thinks of the arrangement.”

“My cousin, Anne, will do exactly what her mother tells her. I feel sorry for her: not only does she suffer from poor health, but her mother has entirely broken her spirit, making her subservient and insipid. Did you know that after my father died, Lady Catherine decided that I should be sent to live at Rosings Park, where I could be properly supervised and correctly raised? My brother steadfastly refused to allow it.”

“You are fortunate indeed. I imagine he loved you too well to part with you – although he very likely also had reservations about entrusting you to the care of your aunt.”

“Elizabeth, do you intend to give the news to Julia? If she still loves my cousin, she will be heartbroken.”

“I believe that Julia does still love Colonel Fitzwilliam, and I do not have the heart to tell her – certainly not until the betrothal is made public. If you have the opportunity of a private conversation with Lady Darlington while I am in town, perhaps you might inform her: she will know what is best to do.”

“Certainly, I shall, if I have the opportunity; but I was about to ask if it would be too late for me to change my mind, and accompany you to town, after all?”

“You wish to come to town, Georgiana?” asked Elizabeth in surprise. “Of course it is not too late; I am overjoyed to have you come with us. It will be delightful to have your company at Grosvenor Square.”

“Oh, thank you, Elizabeth,” replied Georgiana. “But I must warn you: I do not wish to attend any balls – particularly any in my honour; I cannot abide all that coming out nonsense.”

Elizabeth smiled. “My dear Georgiana, please do not make yourself uneasy; I never imagined for a moment that you wished for anything of the kind; although I hope you will accompany us to concerts and the theatre.”

“Yes, of course, I should love to.”

“I shall not ask you your reasons for suddenly deciding to accompany us to town, but I do have my suspicions,” said Elizabeth, looking pointedly at the letter in Georgiana’s hand.

“Elizabeth, it is not what you think. I have, as you well know, been endeavouring to write a story. It was with regard to my writing that I first wrote to Mr Darlington, seeking his advice on a number of points. He was not only kind enough to answer all my questions at length, but he offers in his letter, to look at the manuscript when it is complete, and to give me his honest opinion. I expect to be finished within the next day or two.”

“But there is no need for you to go to town,” teased Elizabeth. “I could take the manuscript with me for him to read over. I am certain he would be happy to write down any comments he has to make.”

“Oh, no, that would never do,” said Georgiana quickly. “I would very much like the opportunity of discussing any concerns he has in person.”

Elizabeth smiled.

“Stop teasing!” exclaimed Georgiana. “I am well aware that you wish to encourage a match between us; but you know full well that I have not the least intention of marrying. James Darlington is simply a very good friend: one whom I greatly admire – for his literary and musical talents – and who has treated me with the utmost kindness. Please do not try to make more of it than there is.”

“I am sorry if I have upset you, my dear, but you know I have a teasing nature. I would never do anything to attempt to persuade you to marry, unless it was your heart’s desire, Georgiana. I will only say this: should you ever change your mind upon the subject of marriage, Mr Darlington would be perfect for you – and you for him.”

Upon their arrival in London, Georgiana immediately had her completed manuscript delivered to James Darlington. Thus began the anxious wait for his response. Georgiana refused to leave the house, which greatly vexed Kitty, who kept begging her to join her on shopping expeditions and the like. Finally, after three days, a message arrived from Mr Darlington, informing Georgiana that he had completed reading her manuscript, and inviting her to visit his rooms in Bayswater Street to discuss it, any afternoon that was convenient.

Elizabeth accompanied Georgiana, as it would have been highly improper for her to visit a gentleman’s rooms alone. However, as soon as they had exchanged pleasantries, Elizabeth asked Mr Darlington if she might look over the books in his book room while he and Georgiana were discussing the manuscript in the sitting room. It was above an hour before Mr Darlington returned to invite her to join them for tea.

When Elizabeth re-entered the sitting room, Georgiana was beaming with pleasure. “Well, Mrs Darcy, I must congratulate you on having a rare literary talent in your family,” he said, looking towards Georgiana in evident admiration. “Her novella is exquisite; I feel quite envious. The first prose piece I ever managed to have published was not nearly so good.”

“Is it that good, Mr Darlington? Do you really believe it good enough for publication?” asked Elizabeth excitedly. “I am entirely in the dark, as Georgiana has not yet allowed me the tiniest glimpse.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, it is only because I did not want you to see it until Mr Darlington had reviewed it. He has suggested some minor alterations – all of which I intend to make – and then he has offered to show it to a publisher!”

“I know of a publisher who produces anthologies of short stories. I have not the smallest doubt that he would be most eager to include Miss Darcy’s work in his next publication.”

“I had not the slightest idea of ever publishing it, said Georgiana, I wrote it for my own pleasure alone, but Mr Darlington is adamant that it should be published; and after much consideration, I have finally been persuaded.”

“It is simply too good to deny the reading public the pleasure of such a delightful tale,” he added enthusiastically.

“I cannot thank you enough,” said Georgiana, earnestly. “Without your encouragement and advice, I would never have achieved so pleasing a result. I wish there was some way of rewarding you.”

James Darlington smiled. “Reading your wonderful story is reward enough; however, while you are in a mind to do something for me, I do have a request to make of you.”

“What is that?” asked Georgiana curiously.

“That you join me in a piano quartet tomorrow evening, at a musical soirée to be given by Lady Beauchamp at her Park Lane residence. The young lady who was to play the pianoforte has taken ill, and you would fill the role admirably. I should so hate to disappoint her ladyship; she is a very old friend of my dear mother, and was exceedingly kind to Julia, at that difficult time when she was obliged to seek employment as a teacher of music. Lady Beauchamp is famous as a patroness of music; her musical soirées are one of the highlights of the season. Her recommendations, amongst her wide acquaintance, resulted in Julia finding a number of pupils.”

“I should like very much to oblige you, Mr Darlington, most especially because of her ladyship’s kindness to Julia; but I have never played before a large audience. My musical talent is not the equal of yours, and I fear I would be unable to do justice to the other musicians.”

“My dear Miss Darcy, you are far too modest. The young lady who has taken ill is not your equal on the pianoforte; and I would rate your ability well above that of the other two musicians: Lady Beauchamp’s son, the young Lord Beauchamp, who will play the cello; and her daughter, Gwendolyn, who will play the viola.”

“But how will I learn my part in so short a time?” fretted Georgiana.

“The program consists entirely of Mozart pieces; all of which I have heard you play brilliantly. I can even recall accompanying you on the violin to at least two of them last Christmas,” he said, passing her several sheets of music. “If you wish, I shall come to Grosvenor Square tomorrow afternoon with my violin, and we can practice together. I shall arrange with the Beauchamps for the four of us to hold a rehearsal in their music room an hour prior to the commencement of the soirée. Of course your brother and sister, and any other friends you care to name, will receive an invitation from Lady Beauchamp. Please say you will do it.”

Georgiana let out sigh and gave a nervous laugh before examining the music to assure herself that she did, indeed, know the pieces. “I shall spend this afternoon and tomorrow practicing them alone, before you come with your violin,” she replied stoically.

James Darlington arrived, as promised for the practice, the following afternoon, and when Georgiana went up to dress, Elizabeth offered him tea. They were alone in the sitting room and James Darlington praised Georgiana’s playing lavishly.

“Perhaps it is like your painting, Mr Darlington,” she said with a wry smile, “it reaches new heights with the right accompaniment.”

“Mrs Darcy, please excuse me if I am direct with you: your attempts at advancing a match between myself and Miss Darcy have been quite apparent – to both the young lady and myself – since that evening when you requested that I paint her portrait at Christmas.”

“I have not attempted to conceal it from either of you,” replied Elizabeth. “I was vain enough to believe that my obvious desire for the match might in some way act as an inducement – to Georgiana, at least.”

“Allow me to thank you, Mrs Darcy. You pay me the greatest compliment in considering me worthy of your sister, who… no, I shall not speak of my feelings… it would be highly improper to do so, when I am not, and never shall be, in a position to ask for her hand.”

“May I ask your reason, sir? You must be aware that Miss Darcy has a large fortune, and is in no need of a wealthy husband.”

“I am well aware of it; and therein lies the problem. I despise men who marry for money.”

“But a gentleman who truly loves a woman – a woman who happens to be wealthy – is not marrying for money.”

“You are quite correct, Mrs Darcy; but there is so much dishonesty, deceit, and suspicion in the world, that no one, but the gentleman himself, can be absolutely certain that his love is pure, and not tainted by avarice. His wife, even, might sometimes entertain doubts: so many other women have been tricked and deceived for their fortune; why not she? Friends, family, and acquaintances will certainly wonder, and very likely talk behind the young lady’s back, and cast aspersions upon the gentleman’s intentions – no matter how pure they may be.”

“You surprise me, Mr Darlington. You are the very last person whom I believed would put the gossip of the world ahead of his own happiness – and that of another.”

“The gossip of the world does not trouble me. The certain disparagement of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and those of her ilk, would cause me very little concern. But not everyone is as careless of the world, and its opinions, as I. The young lady, for instance, might be more susceptible; she might feel herself to be the object of the derision of others; be it just or otherwise. Indeed, my real concern is for the lady. I do not know if you are aware of the matter, Mrs Darcy, but, at the age of fifteen, Miss Darcy was deceived by a fortune hunter into believing herself to be in love and… please, excuse me, I have said far too much ...”

Elizabeth smiled sadly. “Pray, do not make yourself uneasy, sir, I am entirely familiar with the whole sad history. You know, of course, that mercifully, Mr Darcy discovered the scheme in time – before George Wickham was able to elope with Miss Darcy.”

“George Wickham, was it? I was not aware of the name of the villain – though it makes perfect sense; it is of a piece with everything I know of the scoundrel. He is a master at the art of deception, and has managed to deceive, and impose himself upon, far more worldly women than a naïve fifteen-year-old,” he said with a smile.

Elizabeth blushed. “No blame can be attached to Georgiana.”

“Absolutely none! But unfortunately, that sad affair has, I believe, left a deep scar upon your sister. While it is perfectly rational for a wealthy young lady to be vigilant of suitors whose object is her fortune, in Miss Darcy’s case, I fear, it has developed into an irrational fear; such that she will never be able to entirely trust a suitor who is less wealthy than herself. Though perhaps she might accept him, despite her misgivings, I fear that irrational doubts, as to whether his love was true, would remain with her always; and would very likely detract from – and possibly destroy – her happiness.”

Elizabeth sighed sadly. “I concede, sir, that you may be correct – but then again you may not. Georgiana is yet young, and the injury inflicted by Mr Wickham may entirely heal in time.”

“I most earnestly hope that it will; but it is a risk I shall never take. No matter how successful I am in my career as a novelist, I shall never be nearly as wealthy as Miss Darcy. Therefore, I beg you: please give up attempting this match; it is quite impossible. And may I request that you make no mention of our conversation to Miss Darcy; it would only make her unhappy.”

“You have my promise on both, Mr Darlington,” said Elizabeth sadly

Posted on 2008-08-08

Kitty, who had come to stay at Grosvenor Square, was sitting one morning with Elizabeth and Georgiana when the mail was brought in.

Elizabeth smiled as she announced, “We are invited to a ball to be given by Lady Beauchamp on Saturday evening.”

“Am I invited, also?” asked Kitty hopefully.

“Indeed you are, my dear,” answered Elizabeth, “and I have no doubt that Jane and Charles Bingley will, likewise, receive an invitation.”

Kitty was in ecstasy. Lady Beauchamp’s ball at her Park Lane residence was spoken of as one of the highlights of the season. To receive an invitation was the greatest pleasure a young lady could possibly imagine. Almost as delightful as the ball itself, would be the reporting of it, to all the young ladies of her acquaintance who had not been so fortunate as to receive an invitation; as to what was worn, who was present, and with whom they danced. While Kitty was giving expression to her rapture at receiving an invitation – very quickly followed by the agony of deciding what she should wear – Elizabeth reflected upon the marked intimacy that had developed between themselves and the Beauchamps in the weeks following Lady Beauchamp’s musical soirée, at which Georgiana had been persuaded to perform in the piano quartet.

An invitation to dine at Park Lane, which also included Mr and Mrs Bingley and Kitty, had very soon followed. Elizabeth was bound to return the courtesy; and the following week, the Beauchamps had dined with them at Grosvenor Square. Lady Beauchamp had further honoured them with invitations to join her party in attending a number of grand musical performances. James Darlington, a great favourite of Lady Beauchamp, had also been present on these occasions.

“Oh, there is a note for you, Georgiana, enclosed with the invitation,” said Elizabeth, handing it to her.

Georgiana opened it, and sighed. “It is a great pity,” she said, “that I have been attending so many events with the Beauchamps, of late. Before coming to town, I had planned to avoid invitations to balls, and the like, on the grounds that I am not yet out; but I suppose it will not do now.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Sadly, my dear, there is no precedent for going back in, after one has come out. But why does the note distress you? Who is it from?”

“Oh, Elizabeth,” chided Kitty, “even I can guess the author of the note. It will be from Lord William, requesting the pleasure of the two first dances with Georgiana. You must know that he is violently in love with her!”

“Please, Kitty, please, do not say it,” begged Georgiana. “And the note is not from Lord William.”

“No, of course, not,” said Elizabeth. “That would be entirely improper; and the Beauchamps are most attentive to social propriety and etiquette. Kitty is doubtless correct, that Lord William wishes to engage you for the first two dances; however, the request will have come from his mother or his sister, I imagine?”

“Yes,” said Georgiana dispiritedly. His sister, Gwendolyn, makes the request on Lord William’s behalf, and I cannot refuse.”

“Honestly, Georgiana,” exclaimed Kitty, “Lord William Beauchamp is, without doubt, one of the most handsome, most eligible – not to mention wealthiest – young men in all of England. All the young ladies swoon over him. How can you be so indifferent, when he singles you out for such marked preference?”

“Oh, he is nice enough,” replied Georgiana. “His manners and conduct are exactly what they ought to be. He is charming and gallant and… yes, he is handsome, no doubt, but…”

“But what more could you possibly dream of, Georgiana?” demanded Kitty incredulously. “Sometimes I cannot fathom you!” Then suddenly rising, she said: “Oh, I must go to the dressmakers immediately! I shall tell them to hurry with my new gown, for I have decided to wear it to Lady Beauchamp’s ball. But I think I must ask for some alterations. Perhaps more lace at the neck and the sleeves would be more fitting for so grand a ball? Will either of you accompany me?”

“I am sorry, Kitty,” said Georgiana, sighing, “but I am too distressed about the ball, I would prefer to remain at home, this morning.”

“Not I,” replied Elizabeth. “I have business that requires immediate attention, but you are most welcome to take the carriage.”

When Kitty had left them, Elizabeth turned to her intended business. “Georgiana, my dear, I want to ask you seriously about your feelings for Lord William. It is very evident that he has formed a marked preference for you. From my observation, it goes well beyond the simple enjoyment of the pleasure of a young lady’s company amongst the whirlwind of the delights of the season. I have also formed the opinion that Lady Beauchamp would view a match between you and her son with heartfelt joy.”

Georgiana sighed. “She has been doing everything in her power to forward the match. She always contrives to ensure that we are seated together at the concert hall or opera house or the theatre. And whenever music is played before a small party, she always requests me to play the pianoforte in accompaniment to Lord William on the cello; when I would rather accompany…”

“James Darlington,” finished Elizabeth.

“Naturally; of course – he is by far the superior musician, as you well know,” said Georgiana defensively.

“But we were talking of Lord William Beauchamp. That Lady Beauchamp wishes for the match is evident. As to the son, though he behaves with the utmost respect and deference to his mother, I do not believe him to be the sort of young man who would contemplate such a step, simply to gratify the wishes of his mother. It is my belief that he is genuinely very fond of you, Georgiana, quite independently of his mother’s preference. And I must tell you: I have the highest opinion of him.”

“I do too; I like him very much. His behaviour towards me is at all times courteous and gallant; and he possesses, no doubt, every charm of pleasing that a young lady could wish for. His mother, Lady Beauchamp, treats me with the greatest kindness and consideration; and his sister, Gwendolyn, is delightful. And yet…” Georgiana reflected silently for some moments, before adding. “I do not know if I could ever love him.”

Elizabeth sighed deeply. There was no need to ask Georgiana if she knew what love was; Elizabeth felt quite certain that she did – and that Georgiana was in love with James Darlington. Elizabeth blamed herself for forwarding the hopeless match between them. So long as Georgiana felt as she did about Mr Darlington, she would never let another into her heart. It was all so vexing: whichever way one looked at it, Lord William was the perfect match for her sister. His tremendous wealth must completely disarm Georgiana’s fear of being duped for her thirty thousand pounds; and there was as good a chance of her finding happiness with Lord William as there could be with almost any other gentleman she could think of – almost.

Georgiana broke Elizabeth’s reverie. “Perhaps Lady Beauchamp will have greater luck with the other match she is forwarding,” she said, stoically. “You must have noticed…”

“Oh yes,” replied Elizabeth, with a sigh. “There can be no doubt that she would love to have James Darlington for her son. Not only is she enchanted with his musical virtuosity, but I believe she is genuinely fond of him. But as to the daughter, it is not so easy to divine her feelings. Gwendolyn Beauchamp may not be the most talented of musicians, but when it comes to social wiles and graces, she is a true adept. She would never exhibit a marked preference for any young man, until she was sure of his heart.”

Georgiana laughed. “You describe her well. She plays the social game with rare talent and intelligence. Yet beneath it all, she is kind and amiable. We have developed a degree of intimacy, these last few weeks. When we two are alone, she speaks often of Mr Darlington. Since learning of my acquaintance with him, and his family, she asks me all manner of questions concerning them all.”

“Do you believe her to be in love with him?” enquired Elizabeth.

“I should say that she believes herself to be in love,” replied Georgiana with an ironic smile, “Although she is never explicit, even with me. I made the mistake of mentioning that Mr Darlington had painted my portrait, and now she has begged her mother to ask him to paint her, also.”

“Oh dear, it seems that poor Mr Darlington is to suffer further distraction from his writing,” said Elizabeth. “Still, he paints very quickly; as I recall, he completed my portrait in well under an hour – in fact I was totally unaware of what he was doing; I believed him to be painting a landscape.”

“He took the whole morning over mine,” replied Georgiana. “Although we spent most of the time talking, and he very often forgot what he was about.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Gwendolyn Beauchamp does not strike me as the sort of young lady who could engage James Darlington in serious conversation for a whole morning.”

“No, perhaps not,” conceded Georgiana. “Do you think he likes her, Elizabeth?” she asked softly.

“Any young man must enjoy the company of so beautiful and charming a young lady; and James Darlington is no exception.” replied Elizabeth. Georgiana looked suddenly serious and concerned, so she added. “However, there are gentlemen who would seek something more substantial than mere social graces and decorative qualities in a wife.”

“Such as money?” asked Georgiana. “I have heard that Gwendolyn’s fortune is a hundred thousand pounds, at least.”

“That might well count against her,” said Elizabeth.

“I do not understand,” said Georgiana. “Do you mean that Mr Darlington might consider it dishonourable to marry a wealthy woman – being poor himself?”

Elizabeth felt like kicking herself, as she recalled him saying: I despise men who marry for money. Firstly, the conversation had been in confidence, and secondly, it was equally applicable to Georgiana as to Gwendolyn. “I cannot speak for Mr Darlington. It was a general comment that there are such gentlemen, and Mr Darlington, for all his unconventionality, has a very high standard of personal honour, I believe.”

Georgiana fell silent as she considered Elizabeth’s words. If he were such a man, then Mr Darlington would not marry Gwendolyn Beauchamp – a fear which had been preying much on her mind in recent days.

Elizabeth broke her train of thought. “But regardless of such considerations, there is a more cogent reason why such a match is most unlikely.”

“What?” asked Georgiana.

“Mr Darlington would not marry without love – one only need consider his novels to realise what an unmitigated romantic he is.”

“But he might fall in love with Gwendolyn – if he has not already done so.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I am convinced that he is already in love – with another lady.”

Georgiana gasped. “But who? Not you? Not still? You are a married woman now; it would be quite shocking!”

Elizabeth laughed. “Oh, Georgiana, sometimes you are so blind! Of course I was not referring to myself – and I am not even convinced that he ever was in love with me; I think it may well have been mere fascination and infatuation. Whatever it was, it is long since over, on both sides.”

“But then who could you mean? Surely you do not think he loves …?”

“Georgiana, you are a most perceptive young lady. At Lady Beauchamp’s ball, observe Mr Darlington’s eyes when he is dancing with Gwendolyn Beauchamp, and compare them to when he dances with you.”

“Oh. But he may not ask me to dance.”

“I am certain he will – although not the first two dances. It is quite certain that Lady Beauchamp will have hinted to Mr Darlington, at the great pleasure it would give her, to see him engage her daughter, Gwendolyn, for those dances. In any case, you yourself are engaged for the first set to Lord William. The four of you will open the ball. It is sad, and a little ironic, that both of the matches which Lady Beauchamp strives for, will fail for the very same reason.”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Georgiana, perplexed.

Elizabeth was about to reply, “Sadly for Lady Beauchamp, the two partners she has set her heart on for her children, have already set their hearts upon each other.” But realising that this would not be helpful, she said instead, “I shall leave it for you to puzzle over, Georgiana. But first, please turn your mind to how you will respond to Lord William’s addresses, which I believe, may be imminent. I can tell you, from bitter experience, that when the time comes, a young lady wishes she was prepared for such an occasion.”

“I shall certainly endeavour to refuse him with a greater degree gentleness and grace than you showed my poor brother in Kent,” said Georgiana, grinning. She had long been privy to all the fascinating details of her brother and Elizabeth’s romance.

Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, it was an abject lesson indeed; and one that I learned from. For when your brother renewed his addresses in Hertfordshire, I was very decided about how I should respond. I am well aware that you are not presently disposed to accept Lord William. I would caution you, however, not to be too unequivocal in your rejection. Rather than saying no, never, you could tell him that you are not yet ready to marry.”

“But that would he unfair to him. It would likely give him hope that I shall later change my mind.”

“And indeed, you may, Georgiana. I know you wish to object that you never shall, but in truth, none of us can ever know, for certain, how we will feel, and what we might wish for, at a later time in our lives when circumstances are very different. My own feelings with regard to your brother, are an excellent example of how materially ones opinions and inclinations can alter over time. Just imagine, for instance, that Mr Darlington were to marry – be it Gwendolyn Beauchamp, or any other young lady.”

“Oh, how terrible that would be,” cried Georgiana.

“Yet you have told me that you do not wish to marry him,” said Elizabeth.

“I do not; and he very likely does not wish to marry me. You have intimated that he would be uncomfortable marrying a wealthy young lady – which must necessarily include myself. All I wish for, is to remain his good friend, to see him often, to be able to write to him about so many things, which – were he to marry – would no longer be possible. Why can things not stay the same?” pleaded Georgiana.

Elizabeth was about to say: “the usual way to prevent a gentleman from marrying another, and to ensure the continuance of such intimacies, is marriage.” But she kept her counsel, for, despite the feelings of both parties, their marriage appeared utterly impossible.

Lady Beauchamp’s arrangements for the ball exceeded their wildest expectations. Elizabeth and Jane had never experienced anything so grand, and a palpable current of excitement ran through the guests as the thirty-six piece orchestra played an opening flourish to announce the first dance. Lord William and Georgiana led off the dance, followed by James Darlington and Gwendolyn Beauchamp. Not the slightest hint was required from Elizabeth for her husband to lead her to the floor.

Elizabeth was unsurprised to see James Darlington with Georgiana at the start of the second set. “My dear,” she said to her husband. “I think it would be most politic for you to ask Lady Beauchamp to be your partner for this set.”

“Oh?” he asked with surprise.

“I will explain later, darling,” she said with some urgency, which was sufficient to send him on his way. Charles Bingley, shortly afterwards, requested the honour of dancing the set with Elizabeth, to which she gladly acceded. Her occasional glimpse of James Darlington and Georgiana dancing was enough to convince her that if Georgiana made the observation, which she had suggested some days earlier, regarding Mr Darlington’s eyes, she would have not the slightest doubt as to his feelings for his first two partners. It was expressly to hinder Lady Beauchamp from making the same observation that Elizabeth had encouraged her husband to engage her ladyship to dance.

In the third set, Elizabeth allowed her husband to dance with her again; but she advised him that it was not the done thing for a husband to dance too much with his own wife.

“What? Even though she be the most beautiful and charming lady in the ballroom?” he asked with a smile. “How can I be expected to wish to dance with another?”

“As it happens, I can remember a particular assembly in Meryton, my dear, when you managed to resist me very well,” she said with a wicked smile.

“Am I never to be forgiven for that unconscionable crime?” begged he.

“Oh, I forgave you long ago, my dear, and I am well pleased, that in spite of what you once professed, you now take great enjoyment in the dance.”

“If every dance were with you, most certainly I should,” he replied gallantly. And yet when the set was finished, he was happy to dance the next with Jane Bingley, of whom he had become very fond.

Elizabeth danced with James Darlington, who appeared a little discomforted. “I have just been dancing with Lady Beauchamp,” he said by way of explanation for his present poor humour.

“I had the impression that Lady Beauchamp was exceedingly fond of you, Mr Darlington. She treats you almost as a son,” said Elizabeth smiling mischievously. “And one suspects that her ladyship entertains hopes of soon calling you one.”

“Oh yes, indeed she does,” replied her partner, sighing. “I respect Lady Beauchamp greatly, and have the very highest opinion of her daughter, but…”

“You do not wish to marry her.”

“Exactly,” replied Mr Darlington.

“You poor man, firstly you had me forwarding a match with Miss Darcy, and now Lady Beauchamp tries to match you with her daughter.”

“But there is no comparison,” protested Mr Darlington. “With you it was all subtlety and playful hints. Whereas Lady Beauchamp is become increasingly direct. I do not know how to escape her.”

“And yet, I must confess, Mr Darlington, to feeling heartily ashamed of myself. Had I given the matter greater thought, I would have seen the impossibility of my scheme ever succeeding. All I have achieved, with my interference, is to create a bond between two young people which seems destined never to achieve fruition; and yet may serve to prevent them both from finding happiness with another – such as Miss Beauchamp.”

“You are too severe upon yourself, Mrs Darcy. You acted from the very best of intentions, and though fruition of the matrimonial kind seems impossible, a unique friendship has grown between us; which, in many ways, is deeper and more delightful than many a marriage. I, for one, refuse to believe that marriage is the defining, and only possible form of relationship, which may exist between a man and a woman.”

“There may be truth in your somewhat alarming and unconventional views, Mr Darlington; but you must, doubtless, be aware of the accepted proprieties that govern and decree what is proper behaviour between a gentleman and a young lady who are neither married, nor betrothed. I know you to be disdainful of social conventions; but for Miss Darcy’s sake, I beg you to heed them.”

“But of course. I would never do anything to harm Miss Darcy. However, this conversation may soon be entirely theoretical.”

“What do you mean?” asked Elizabeth.

“You can hardly have failed to notice that Lady Beauchamp is assiduously forwarding more than one match. I am well aware from my intimacy with Lord William, that he is quite smitten with Miss Darcy, and is only in want of the opportunity, to pay her his addresses… and that will be the sad end of our unique friendship.”

“Yes it would be… if she were to accept him,” replied Elizabeth.

“Then you think she might not? I do not see how any young lady could refuse such a suitor. I have already decided to base the hero of my next novel upon his character and circumstances. He is everything that a young lady could possibly wish for.”

“You are very astute in your understanding of what is acceptable to the reading public; which no doubt explains your enormous success. When you write – when you construct your characters – you are aiming to please the greatest number of readers. You shape them to suit the general approbation, and as such, a Sir Walter Bonython – or whatever you choose to call your new hero – may indeed find favour, and excite the hearts of your female readership, in general, and yet not find favour in the heart of every young lady.”

“Such as Georgiana Darcy?” asked Mr Darlington, eliciting only a smile from Elizabeth.