A/N: I've been meaning to write some P&P since it's very close to my heart and I hope this isn't a terrible attempt. I'm fiddling with canon a bit, since Mrs. Younge was never Georgiana's companion (she was only an acquaintance), but I hope you'll forgive me that for the sake of the story.
i.
"Now, you must not expect the master of the house to be at home frequently, for he has many obligations outside Pemberley, but of course, he will make your acquaintance in person at the right time," Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, was telling her while they walked at a quick pace through the great hall.
Elizabeth tried not to ogle at the furniture and walls. There was not a house like this in all of Hertfordshire. Even Netherfield Park was modest in comparison. The Darcys' ancestral home reflected rank and refinement in every polished surface and gilt frame. But there was also, she thought, a sad, lingering note in all of this wealth that was left here to collect memories.
"Mr. Darcy has placed much faith in your uncle's word and we must strive to meet his expectations," Mrs. Reynolds went on in the same fashion. The elderly woman was robust and full of spirit, though there was a guarded look on her face. As if she was afraid of revealing too much to her charge.
"I will do my best not to discredit my uncle's good name," Lizzy replied modestly, although her sister, Jane, might have discerned a note of humor in her voice.
Elizabeth Bennet was not in a position to make veiled remarks, however. Ever since her father's untimely death, her mother's brother had done all he could to find a suitable position for her in society. She was still the daughter of a gentleman, and one had to walk a careful line not to tarnish her reputation. It came as a great relief and, to her mother, a great honour when Mr. Gardiner announced that their Lizzy would be companion to none other than the most distinguished Georgiana Darcy, sister to the illustrious Mr. Darcy, heir of Pemberley and the most esteemed gentleman in all of Derbyshire.
"Has Uncle met all the esteemed gentlemen in Derbyshire and found Mr. Darcy the very best?" Lizzy had wondered trivially with her younger sisters, but her sarcasm was only a clever mask to disguise the fear of leaving home.
It couldn't be helped, however. Mr. Bennet's cousin, Mr. Collins, was coming to take up residence at Longbourn and he had brought a wife with him, so the Bennets had to be vacated.
It had been a very painful ordeal. Mrs. Bennet had gone to live with her sister, Mrs. Phillips, in Meryton and she had taken Jane and Lydia with her, but there was not enough room for Mary and Kitty, so the two girls had been sent to Uncle Gardiner. Lizzy should have been in charge of them, but her new post prevented her from being yet another burden to her aunt and uncle, for which she was thankful. Still, it very much chafed that she had gone from living comfortably and independently with her large family, to being more or less a charity spinster in the great house of a great gentleman. For Lizzy did not entertain any hope of marriage anymore. She had never been enchanted with the institution of matrimony, but she had hoped it would not evade her. Her prospects had sunk so low that she could safely put it out of her mind now.
Mrs. Reynolds continued the tour of the house, insisting that Elizabeth would be allowed to visit as many rooms as she liked, as long as she was in the company of Miss Darcy and as long as she did not overstep her means.
There was no snobbery in the housekeeper's manner, but her words imparted a strict code of conduct which Lizzy felt had been tried by a past grievance.
She had heard the rumors, of course. They were all over Lambton, although she had not put too much credence in them. One could not trust tavern talk, especially concerning young ladies, but if the general populace was to be believed, Miss Darcy's previous companion - a dubious Mrs. Younge - had led the girl somewhat astray. In what way exactly, Lizzy could not ascertain, but it explained why Mrs. Reynolds spoke with such reservation.
"Normally, Mr. Darcy would not have chosen such a young companion for Miss Darcy – you are not yet five and twenty, are you Miss Bennet?"
"I cannot deny the charge," Lizzy responded with a slight nod.
Mrs. Reynolds cast her a sidelong glance. "Yes, well, my master felt that Miss Darcy ought to benefit from a younger mind and spirit, as she has few acquaintances close to her age."
Lizzy pieced together the silent information she was not given. The previous companion was older and more experienced, which ended up being a bad thing.
"That seems wise," Lizzy replied, so as not to seem rude.
"Mr. Darcy is wise in all things, you'll find Now, if you'll follow me..."
It was a great deal later that Lizzy was finally allowed to join Miss Darcy in the drawing room. She had already seen the young girl since they had been introduced in church on Sunday, but they had not exchanged more than two words.
Georgiana Darcy had seemed to her a wisp of a girl, small and delicate, but most of all, wary of intruders. She could not blame her. Elizabeth knew it must be very hard shouldering the rumours that were circulated about her. She felt there could be a kinship between them, since her own name had undergone an undesirable transformation. She already had practice with younger girls thanks to her own sisters, but she did not take her task lightly, nor did she harbour any romantic feelings about the arrangement.
It's all well and good if I become her friend, but there is a contract between us. I must ingratiate myself with her or lose my post.
It was the obligation of her position that slightly soured the possibility of friendship. Lizzy dearly missed her beloved Charlotte Lucas, who had remained in Hertfordshire with her family. No one could replace her as Lizzy's bosom friend, but of course, she would attempt to be amiable to everyone at Pemberley.
The young Miss Darcy rose precipitately when she saw her new companion enter the room.
"Hello – Good day, Miss Bennet."
The rather gauche address made Elizabeth feel more at ease. The girl looked very shy and eager to please, which touched her.
"Good day, Miss Darcy. I hope I find you in good spirits."
The girl had been sitting at an old piano, fiddling with the keys absently.
"Oh yes, I cannot complain. Has – has Mrs. Reynolds shown you the house?"
"Yes, I have been admiring it for the past hour and a half," Lizzy replied, walking further into the room.
"Oh, dear," Georgiana frowned, "that must have been taxing on your feet."
Lizzy found herself smiling, which rather surprised her charge. "I love nothing better than to walk, Miss Darcy."
"Do you? My brother says I should exercise more."
"He is right. But I see you are already in the middle of a different exercise," Lizzy said, pointing at the piano.
"Oh, no, this is only my mother's old – that is to say, I am very much attached to it," Georgiana corrected herself, blushing. "But my pianoforte is in the music room."
Lizzy folded her hands in front of her. "May I see your pianoforte then?"
She was afraid Miss Darcy would find the request too forward, but the young girl's eyes lit up with a spark of joy, even though her posture remained demure.
"I – yes, of course, let me show you the way."
Lizzy sat down at her writing desk with a weary sigh. The first day had gone as well as could be hoped. She had listened to Georgiana play and had admired her music a great deal.
"My sister, Mary, would be green with envy. She is very exact in her playing, but she lacks your natural sensibility."
Georgiana had flushed with pleasure but she had not said much more. She found it easier to play than to speak.
Lizzy had, at the girl's behest, played a song too, though poorly.
When Georgiana had offered her polite compliments, Lizzy had waved them off quickly.
"I don't take the time to practice as I should, and my ear is faulty as a result. But I find there is use for a bad player to make the good one stand out."
She had thought she'd caught the girl smile but she could not be sure. Miss Darcy was very courteous, but she was also very cautious and though she had allowed Elizabeth near her, there was still a long passage to travel to gain intimacy. Lizzy was in no rush.
They had shared a rather gloomy supper in the large dining room, where they had sat alone at the very large table, and watched the servants busy about them silently. Conversation had been difficult to entertain. Lizzy wondered if she might propose that, in the absence of the girl's brother, they might simply dine in the smaller parlor where they could be more at ease.
But that might be seen as strange or untoward.
She sat with her pen in hand, staring at the darkening window. If she stretched forward a little more she could see a patch of lake in the distance. The view was beautiful, though cold. Everything about Pemberley was magnificent, but unapproachable. The fact that she did not belong here could not be made clearer.
She had been meaning to write her sister, Jane, to tell her how she was settling in, but she found no happy turn of phrase to contain her feelings. She should not be ungrateful; after all she was living in a house that would turn every heard in Hertfordshire, but she was a stranger, all the same. And she was surrounded by those whose rank forced them to look down on her. She rather hoped the illustrious Mr. Darcy would continue to stay away from Pemberley so she wouldn't have to be subjected to his painful interview. She had an inkling that the man was, if not pompous and self-important, at least stern enough to elicit a great deal of respect. To believe Mrs. Reynolds, he was the most perfect master in existence. Georgiana, too, spoke reverently of him. Lizzy was always suspicious of compliments. She would never admit it, but she had a rather proud and stubborn nature ("haughty", if you asked her mother) and she had a difficult time concealing her displeasure when she was treated with condescension.
Lizzy remembered that this was a failing her father used to be fond of. Mr. Bennet would pretend to scold her, but secretly laugh at her barbs.
She quickly brushed her eyes for remnant tears. She was far too sensible to start crying at nothing at all. The dead could not be resurrected, nor could the living be put to rest (she was thinking, rather shockingly, of her cousin and how much she would have liked to exchange him for her father).
Lizzy smiled to herself. She was rather incorrigible.
She gave up the task of writing and settled for bed. Tomorrow would be better or worse, and all her days would be equal from now on.