P. James - Death Comes to Pemberley

Elizabeth said, “I suspect that with both Mr Darcy and Georgiana, Pemberley comes first. I remember when I visited with my aunt and uncle, and Mr Darcy asked me what I thought of the house, my obvious delight in it pleased him. If I had been less than genuinely enthusiastic I don’t think he would have married me.”

Jane laughed. “Oh, I think he would, my dear. But perhaps we should not discuss this matter further. Gossip about the feelings of others when we cannot fully understand them, and they may not understand them themselves, can be a cause of distress. Perhaps I was wrong to mention the colonel’s name. I know, my dear Elizabeth, how much you love Georgiana and, living with you as her sister, she has grown into a more assured as well as a beautiful young woman. If she has indeed two suitors the choice must of course be hers, but I cannot imagine she would consent to marry against her brother’s wishes.”

Elizabeth said, “The matter may come to a head after the ball, but I own that it is an anxiety to me. I have grown to love Georgiana dearly. But let us put it aside for now. We have the family dinner to look forward to. I must not spoil it for either of us or our guests by worries which may be groundless.”

They said no more, but Elizabeth knew that for Jane there could be no problem. She believed firmly that two attractive young people who obviously enjoyed each other’s company might very naturally fall in love and that love should result in a happy marriage. And here there could be no difficulty about money: Georgiana was rich and Mr Alveston rising in his profession. But money weighed little with Jane; provided there was sufficient for a family to live in comfort, what matter which partner it was who brought money to the union? And the fact, which to others would be paramount, that the colonel now was a viscount and that his wife would in time become a countess while Mr Alveston would be only a baron, would weigh nothing with Jane. Elizabeth resolved that she would attempt not to dwell on possible difficulties but that, after the ball, she must soon find an early opportunity to talk to her husband. Both had been so busy that she had hardly set eyes on him since morning. She would not be justified in speculating to him about Mr Alveston’s feelings unless Mr Alveston or Georgiana raised the matter, but he should be told as soon as possible of the colonel’s intention to speak of his hope that Georgiana would consent to be his wife. She wondered why the thought of such an alliance, brilliant as it was, gave her an unease which she could not reason away, and tried to put this uncomfortable feeling aside. Belton had arrived and it was time for Jane and herself to get ready for dinner.

On the eve of the ball, dinner was served at the customary and fashionable hour of six thirty but when the numbers were few it was usual for it to be held in a small room adjacent to the formal dining room, where up to eight could sit in comfort at the round table. In past years the larger room had been necessary because the Gardiners, and occasionally Bingley’s sisters, had been guests at Pemberley for the ball, but Mr Gardiner never found it easy to leave his business, nor his wife to be parted from her children. What they both liked best was a summer visit when Mr Gardiner could enjoy the fishing and his wife enjoyed nothing better than to explore the grounds with Elizabeth in a single-horse phaeton. The friendship between the two women was long-standing and close and Elizabeth had always valued her aunt’s advice. There were matters on which she would have been glad of it now.

Although the dinner was informal, the party naturally moved together to enter the dining room in pairs. The colonel at once offered his arm to Elizabeth, Darcy moved to Jane’s side and Bingley, with a little show of gallantry, offered his arm to Georgiana. Seeing Alveston walking alone behind the last pair, Elizabeth wished she had arranged things better, but it was always difficult to find a suitable unescorted lady at short notice and convention had not before mattered at these pre-ball dinners. The empty chair was between Georgiana and Bingley, and when Alveston took it, Elizabeth detected his transitory smile of pleasure.

As they seated themselves the colonel said, “So Mrs Hopkins is not with us again this year. Isn’t this the second time she has missed the ball? Does your sister not enjoy dancing, or has the Reverend Theodore theological objections to a ball?”

Elizabeth said, “Mary has never been fond of dancing and has asked to be excused, but her husband has certainly no objection to her taking part. He told me on the last occasion when they dined here that in his view no ball at Pemberley attended by friends and acquaintances of the family could have a deleterious effect on either morals or manners.”

Bingley whispered to Georgiana, “Which shows that he has never imbibed Pemberley white soup.”

The remark was overheard and provoked smiles and some laughter. But this light-heartedness was not to last. There was an absence of the usual eager talk across the table, and a languor from which even Bingley’s good-humoured volubility seemed unable to rouse them. Elizabeth tried not to glance too frequently at the colonel, but when she did she was aware how often his eyes were fixed on the couple opposite. It seemed to Elizabeth that Georgiana, in her simple dress of white muslin with a chaplet of pearls in her dark hair, had never appeared more lovely, but there was in the colonel’s gaze a look more speculative than admiring. Certainly the young couple behaved impeccably, Alveston showing Georgiana no more attention than was natural, and Georgiana turning to address her remarks equally between Alveston and Bingley, like a young girl dutifully following social convention at her first dinner party. There was one moment, which she hoped the colonel had not detected. Alveston was mixing Georgiana’s water and wine and, for a few seconds, their hands touched and Elizabeth saw the faint flush grow and fade on Georgiana’s cheeks.

Seeing Alveston in his formal evening clothes, Elizabeth was struck again by his extraordinary good looks. He was surely not unaware that he could not enter a room without every woman present turning her eyes towards him. His strong mid-brown hair was tied back simply at the nape of his neck. His eyes were a darker brown under straight brows, his face had an openness and strength which saved him from any imputation of being too handsome, and he moved with a confident and easy grace. As she knew, he was usually a lively and entertaining guest, but tonight even he seemed afflicted by the general air of unease. Perhaps, she thought, everyone was tired. Bingley and Jane had come only eighteen miles but had been delayed by the high wind, and for Darcy and herself the day before the ball was always unusually busy.

The atmosphere was not helped by the tempest outside. From time to time the wind howled in the chimney, the fire hissed and spluttered like a living thing and occasionally a burning log would break free, bursting into spectacular flames and casting a momentary red flush over the faces of the diners so that they looked as if they were in a fever. The servants came and went on silent feet, but it was a relief to Elizabeth when the meal at last came to an end and she was able to catch Jane’s eye and move with her and Georgiana across the hall into the music room.

While the dinner was being served in the small dining room, Thomas Bidwell was in the butler’s pantry cleaning the silver. This had been his job for the last four years since the pain in his back and knees had made driving impossible, and it was one in which he took pride, particularly on the night before Lady Anne’s ball. Of the seven large candelabra which would be ranged the length of the supper table, five had already been cleaned and the last two would be finished tonight. The job was tedious, time-consuming and surprisingly tiring, and his back, arms and hands would all ache by the time he had finished. But it wasn’t a job for the maids or for the lads. Stoughton, the butler, was ultimately responsible, but he was busy choosing the wines and overseeing the preparation of the ballroom, and regarded it as his responsibility to inspect the silver once cleaned, not to clean even the most valuable pieces himself. For the week preceding the ball it was expected that Bidwell would spend most days, and often far into the night, seated aproned at the pantry table with the Darcy family silver ranged before him – knives, forks, spoons, the candelabra, silver plates on which the food would be served, the dishes for the fruit. Even as he polished he could picture the candelabra with their tall candles throwing light on bejewelled hair, heated faces and the trembling blossoms in the flower vases.