P. James: Death Comes to Pemberley

Elizabeth said, “Wickham could not have expected to share the grand tour.”

“I have no knowledge of what he did expect except that it was always greater than his deserts.”

Elizabeth said, “The early favours shown may have been to an extent imprudent and it is always easy to question the judgement of others in matters of which we may be imperfectly informed.”

The colonel shifted uneasily in his chair. He said, “But there could be no excuse for Wickham’s betrayal of trust in his attempted seduction of Miss Darcy. This was an infamy which no difference in birth or upbringing could excuse. As a fellow guardian of Miss Darcy I was, of course, informed of the disgraceful affair by Darcy, but it is a matter which I have put out of my mind. I never speak of it to Darcy and I apologise for speaking of it now. Wickham has distinguished himself in the Irish campaign and is now something of a national hero, but that cannot wipe out the past although it may provide him with opportunities for a more respectable and successful life in the future. I gather that he has, unwisely I believe, left the army but is still friends with such military companions as Mr. Denny, who you will recall first introduced in my Meryton. But I should not have mentioned his name in your presence.”

Elizabeth made no reply and, after a brief pause, he got to his feet, bowed and was gone. She was aware that the conversation had given satisfaction to neither. Colonel Fitzwilliam had not received the wholehearted approval and assurance of her support for which he had hoped and Elizabeth feared that if he failed to win Georgiana the humiliation and embarrassment would wreck a friendship which had lasted since boyhood and which she knew her husband held dear. She had no doubt that Darcy would approve of Colonel Fitzwilliam as a husband for Georgiana. What he hoped above all for his sister was safety, and she would be safe; even the difference in age would probably be seen as an advantage. In time Georgiana would be a countess and money would never be a worry to the fortunate man who married her. She wished that the question could be settled one way or another. Perhaps events would come to a head tomorrow at the ball – a ball with its opportunities for sitting out together, for whispered confidences as the dancers went down, was well known for bringing events, happy or unhappy, to a conclusion. She only hoped that all concerned should be satisfied, then smiled at the presumption that this could ever be possible.

Elizabeth was gratified by the change in Georgiana since Darcy and she had married. At first Georgiana had been surprised, almost shocked, to hear her brother being teased by his wife, and how often he teased in return and they laughed together. There had been little laughter at Pemberley before Elizabeth’s arrival, and under Elizabeth’s tactful and gentle encouragement Georgiana had lost some of her Darcy shyness. She was now confident in taking her place when they entertained, more ready to venture her opinions at the dinner table. As Elizabeth grew in understanding of her sister, she suspected that under the shyness and reserve Georgiana had another Darcy characteristic: a strong will of her own. But how far did Darcy recognise this? Within part of his mind was not Georgiana still the vulnerable fifteen year old, a child needing his safe watchful love if she were to escape disaster? It was not that he distrusted his sister’s honour or her virtue – such a thought for him would be close to blasphemy – but how far did he trust her judgement? And for Georgiana, Darcy, since their father’s death, had been head of the family, the wise and dependable elder brother with something of the authority of a father, a brother greatly loved and never feared, since love cannot live with fear, but held in awe. Georgiana would not marry without love, but neither would she marry without his approval. And what if it came to a choice between Colonel Fitzwilliam, his cousin and childhood friend, heir to an earldom, a gallant soldier who had known Georgiana all her life, and this handsome and agreeable young lawyer who admittedly was making his name but of whom they knew very little? He would inherit a barony, and an ancient one, and Georgiana would have a house which, when Alveston had made his money and restored it, would be one of the most beautiful in England. But Darcy had his share of family pride and there could be no doubt which candidate offered the greater security and the more glittering future.

The colonel’s visit had destroyed her peace, leaving her worried and a little distressed. He was right in saying he should not have mentioned Wickham’s name. Darcy himself had had no contact with him since they met at the church when Lydia was married, a marriage which could never have taken place without his lavish expenditure of money. She was confident that this secret had never been divulged to Colonel Fitzwilliam, but he had, of course, known of the marriage and he must have suspected the truth. Was he, she wondered, attempting to reassure himself that Wickham had no part in their life at Pemberley and that Darcy had bought Wickham’s silence to ensure that the world would never be able to say that Miss Darcy of Pemberley had a sullied reputation? The colonel’s visit had made her restless and she began pacing to and fro, trying to calm fears which she hoped were irrational and to regain some of her former composure.

Luncheon with only four of them at the table was brief. Darcy had an appointment with his steward and had returned to his study to wait for him. Elizabeth had arranged to meet Georgiana in the conservatory where they would inspect the blooms and green boughs the head gardener had brought from the hothouses. Lady Anne had liked many colours and complicated arrangements but Elizabeth preferred to use only two colours with the green and to arrange them in a variety of vases, large and small, so that every room contained sweet-smelling flowers. Tomorrow the colours would be pink and white, and Elizabeth and Georgiana worked and consulted among the pungent scent of long-stemmed roses and geraniums. The hot, humid atmosphere of the conservatory was oppressive and she had a sudden wish to breathe fresh air and feel the wind on her cheeks. Was it perhaps the unease occasioned by Georgiana’s presence and the colonel’s confidence which lay like a burden on the day?

Suddenly Mrs Reynolds was with them. She said, “Dear madam, Mr and Mrs Bingley’s coach is coming up the drive. If you hurry you will be at the door to receive them.”

Elizabeth gave a cry of delight and, with Georgiana following, ran to the front door. Stoughton was already there to open it just as the carriage drew slowly to a stop. Elizabeth ran out into the cool breath of the rising wind. Her beloved Jane had arrived and for a moment all her unease was subsumed in the happiness of their meeting.

The Bingleys were not long at Netherfield after their marriage. Bingley was the most tolerant and good-natured of men but Jane realised that being in such close proximity to her mother would not contribute to her husband’s comfort or her peace of mind. She had a naturally affectionate nature and her loyalty and love for her family were strong, but Bingley’s happiness came first. Both had been anxious to settle close to Pemberley and when their lease at Netherfield ended, they stayed for a short time in London with Mrs Hurst, Bingley’s sister, and then moved with some relief to Pemberley, a convenient centre from which to search for a permanent home. In this Darcy took an active part. Darcy and Bingley had been to the same school but the difference in age, although of only a couple of years, meant that they saw little of each other in boyhood. It was at Oxford that they became friends. Darcy – proud, reserved and already ill at ease in company – found relief in Bingley’s generous good nature, easy sociability and cheerful assumption that life would always be good to him, and Bingley had such faith in Darcy’s superior wisdom and intelligence that he was reluctant to take any action on matters of importance without his friend’s approbation.