Disclaimer: Again, all of the characters that you recognize are the products of Jane Austen.
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Georgiana Darcy sat alone in her room at the Bingley's house in London wondering how to spend her free morning. Mrs. Annesley had gone to an interview at the Stevenson's and would not return until dinner. She had spent her last free morning with Miss Bingley and was entombed in her room discussing the evening party and Mr. Campwell, a man of six thousand pounds a year and a decent estate in Devon. Since Mr. Darcy had agreed that Georgiana would be allowed to "come out", Miss Bingley had insisted on bringing her to all of the parties and dances that she had been invited too. Georgiana looked at each party with dread as her shyness made it hard for her to chat easily with strangers, though she was steadily improving. However, the reports still circulated around London that Miss Georgiana Darcy, though heiress to thirty-thousand pounds and exceedingly pretty, was most insufferably proud.
Not wishing to repeat another morning listening to Miss Bingley gossip, she decided to write a letter to her new sister, though she was on her honeymoon. But since both Elizabeth and her brother had given her the address for the inn they would be staying at for the last week of their honeymoon, they surely would expect her to write. Getting up from the window seat, Georgiana crossed the room to the writing desk and sat down to begin her letter. Sharpening the nub of the pen and dipping it into the inkwell, she began to write.
My dear sister Elizabeth,
I hope this letter finds both you and my dear brother safe and well at your last inn and enjoying your honeymoon. Though Mrs. Annesley advised me not to write as it is your honeymoon and you would want little interruption, I thought that since you had given me your address it would be inexcusable not to write. I do not expect a reply since, when you receive this, we will be seeing each other in less than a weeks time.
Since my "coming out", Miss Bingley has included me in all of the invitations to dinners and dances that she has been invited to. To be quite honest, I am horribly afraid every time she announces an engagement as it means I shall have to come along too. Unfortunately, I have not quite conquered my shyness and within a week of coming out have been labeled as exceedingly proud. It is very unnerving to walk into a room and have everyone turn and whisper about you to everyone else, especially when you know exactly what they are saying. The men in a party ask the women who the young lady is that has just walked in the door. The women reply with my name and add that I have thirty thousand pounds to my name. With this remark the men's faces light up and the women quickly conquer their hope by spreading how insufferably proud I am. Then they all begin abusing me. I know this from having been within hearing distance during one of these exchanges and I can tell the conversation is widely repeated just by judging the looks on people's faces when I enter. Though this rumor is widely agreed upon, it has not stopped a few men from proposing, but thankfully I remembered my dear brother's advice and turned them down at which point they all became quite nasty before trying to woo other less suspecting ladies. I am glad I already had my scare with that man before officially coming out. Now I will know the difference between men loving me or my money.
Dear sister, do you think it quite possible that any man would love me for myself? The more I see of men and the more gossip I hear at these parties and from Miss Bingley, it seems that everyone is just concerned with money. Indeed, though it is quite shocking to find it in a friend, I believe Miss Bingey is of the same opinion, that money is much more important than anything. Mr. Campwell, a man of six thousand a year who Miss Bingley talks about incessantly, has been at many of the same parties as ourselves. He is a handsome man, to be sure, but completely narcissistic to an unbearable point. But Miss Bingley sees nothing but good in him and his six thousand pounds which she constantly points out is a larger sum than Mr. Bingley's. However, one good thing has come about from these parties. I have made the acquaintance of Miss Isabel Rowndell who is a lady a year my senior from a respectable family from Salisbury. She is quite more outgoing than myself, but she and I share a common dislike of parties. We have-
A loud knock on the door startled Georgiana. She hurried across the room and opened the door to reveal Miss Bingley glad in one of her usual striped silks.
"Good morning, Georgiana," she greeted, striding into Georgiana's room without waiting for a proper invitation. "I wondered if you were going to stay in your room all day!"
"Of course not, Miss Bingley," she replied, trying to move inconspicuously towards her writing desk. "I was just enjoying a free morning since Mrs. Annesely has an interview."
"All alone in your room, you should have come and visited me, Georgiana. Though I hope her interview shall not take all day," Miss Bingley continued haughtily. "We have just been invited to the Campwells for dinner. It will be an intimate gathering," her eyebrows lifting in her own smugness, then frowning as she continued, "but those Rowndells be there too. I don't see why they have the presumption to come too, Mr. Rowndell has only four thousand pounds and the Miss Rowndells are such frivolous girls."
Georgiana, having successfully hidden her letter when Miss Bingley had looked away while talking of the Rowndells, voiced her own defense of her friend. "Miss Isabel Rowndell is a fine lady, as is her elder sister. They are both so welcoming and accomplished, have you not heard Miss Isabel sing? She has quite a lovely voice."
"Lovely voice?" Miss Bingely repeated scandalized. "I assure you, Georgiana, that your voice is a hundred times more lovely than Miss Isabel's. I hope you are not considering an acquaintance with those Rowndells, they are much beneath you. Think of your honor as a Darcy! I am quite sure your brother would not like you becoming intimate with such people."
"I am sure that my sister would approve along with my brother, and they are excellent judges of character," young Georgiana stated resolutely to a surprised Miss Bingley.
"Yes, I am sure your sister would have not disapprove of them," Miss Bingley replied scathingly, her expression sour and sneering. "Well, I must go inform the servants that we will not be in for dinner. I wish your companion was here, I loathe talking to them. They are so rude and coarse!"
Miss Bingley turned on her heel and left in a worse temper than when she had entered and Georgiana privately thought that she would not wish to be the servant she talked too. She decided to return to her letter as was just about to begin when another knock echoed in her room. However, this knock was a double knock, letting her know that it was Mrs. Annesley back again. She opened the door and greeted her companion joyfully.
"How was your interview?" She asked as she helped Mrs. Annesley off with her cloak.
"It went very well, they will write to me in a week to say whether or not they will accept me, but I am very confident that they will," Mrs. Annesley said happily before turning around and facing Georgiana with a sorrowful expression. "Though I must say, I will greatly miss you Georgiana. It is not very likely that I will find such a kind young lady to be with."
"Thank you," replied Georgiana, blushing. "But I'm sure within a few weeks you will be saying the same thing about your new charge." Seeing her about to refute that remark, Georgiana hastily continued. "Miss Bingley was in while you were gone and she wanted us to know that we have been invited to dinner at the Campwells. It is supposed to be an intimate occasion and it shall just be us, the Campwells, and the Rowndells."
Mrs. Annesley brightened when she heard that the Rowndells would also be going. "Well, at least the Rowndells will be joining us. The Campwells are kind people indeed, but do not you find the Rowndells a bit more welcoming?" She asked.
"Yes, very much so. It would not be wrong of me to have the acquaintance of Miss Isabel Rowndell, would it?"
"No, no, not at all. She is a fine lady of respectable birth and very sound judgment from what I've seen. I would not have encouraged you to meet with her if I thought otherwise. Why do you ask?"
"Well, Miss Bingley thought she is beneath my notice, but I told how charming I think Isabel and her sister are."
Mrs. Annesley pursed her lips every so slightly. "You are old enough, now, Georgiana, to learn that you must not trust everyone's judgment. You will have to rely on your own judgment for I will not be here and your sister will not always be around to assist you. Always ask if you have doubts, but I feel it would be better to ask advice of your sister rather than Miss Bingley."
Georgiana nodded her head. "Then it is good that I have already asked her."
"Who, my dear?"
"My sister."
"You've gone and written to her, have you not?"
Georgiana nodded again.
"Then you are finally using your own judgment and I can leave in peace," Mrs. Annesley teased. "What time is this dinner party?""Miss Bingley did not say... but I will go ask her," Georgiana continued, seeing the look on Mrs. Annesley's face.
She smiled and said, "I quite believe that I have taught you well."
Elizabeth glanced around their room at the inn for the last time. All their trunks were packed and lying near the door and the footmen were busy dragging them down the stairs. She had sentimentally made her rounds about the small rooms, ingraining them into her memory, never to be forgotten. Staring unseeingly, Elizabeth knew she would never forget this place as long as she lived. How could she forget the last resting place of their honeymoon? She was startled out of her reverie by her husband appearing in a rush at the doorway.
"Come, Elizabeth, the carriage is nearly ready," he said as he extended his hand out for hers.
She held his hand and they walked down the corridor to the entryway of the inn following the footman with the last of their trunks. They talked very little as Mr. Darcy was evidently distracted. Elizabeth smiled. She knew how anxious her husband was to finally return home after being gone for months. Pemberley was his only sanctuary and one he needed after spending much of their courtship in Hertfordshire. Of course, she was just as anxious as him to return, though she was filled with a large fluttering of nervousness that settled in her stomach whenever she thought about it. The daunting questions of whether the servants would welcome her, if she would really be suited to such a life, and all sorts of doubts that she had stubbornly suppressed clouded her mind as she waited in the entryway.
Thinking back over their honeymoon, she remembered the letter Georgiana had written and how her husband reacted. He did not regret his decision to have Georgiana come out as he was still confident that she would overcome her extreme shyness by the time she was old enough to be respectfully married. In any rate, he told Elizabeth, should she indeed fall in love with a suitable man, his ingenious plan would force them into a long engagement. False love could not suffer that, he foolishly thought. As for the mysterious Miss Isabel Rowndell, he reluctantly decided that they would meet with her the next time they were all in London, though he privately hoped she would gone by then. Elizabeth had dutifully told him everything Georgiana had said, or so he thought. She had purposely neglected to tell him about her doubts whether anyone would love her just for herself, not her money. Though she knew her husband would have more empathy on that score, she thought that her experience of having no money and perhaps being forced into a marriage she did wish to enter for the necessity of money might have more of an impact on Georgiana. All in all, it really was a matter between sisters anyway as men generally did not understand the fears of women that they labeled as irrational.
Her meditations were again interrupted as John, the young footman, appeared in the doorway to inform her that the carriage was ready and the Master had gone to settle the bill. She kindly thanked him and followed him out to the street into the dazzling sunlight. The perfectly matched chestnut horses stamped impatiently, kicking up puffs of dirt, clearly as anxious to leave as their master. Elizabeth watched a peasant woman hurry along, clutching a large basket that smelled strongly of fish and being followed by a trail of children. Farther up the street she saw two young girls chasing each other until their mother appeared in a window, yelling at them to behave. Enraptured by the rustic charm of the bustling village, it took her much longer than it should have to notice the footman waiting for her at the door of the carriage, watching her with amused interest. She uncomfortably knew that he would be accosted by the servants back at Pemberley and be forced tell them what he thought of her. Her nervousness returning, she knew she had so far behaved dismally at her new role of Mistress of Pemberley.
Hesitating between accepting his hand and climbing into carriage or waiting for her husband, Elizabeth was saved from deciding as her husband presently came out of the inn. A small, amused smile lit his face as he saw Elizabeth's dilemma. She looked at him with relief, blushing slightly at his smile and John straightened slightly at the appearance of his master.
"I am sorry to say, John, that my wife has decided for me to be her footman today," Mr. Darcy stated, unable to repress the amusement that crept into it.
"Yes, sir," John replied with a youthful bow and a smile. He stepped towards the front to be out of their way while exchanging meaningful looks with the driver.
Mr. Darcy handed her up into the carriage before following himself. Quick as a flash, John had snuck up and shut the door before he could turn and do it himself. Bowing again with a grin, he nimbly climbed up next to the driver and within a moment the carriage jerked forward. Smiling at her husband, Elizabeth looked around at the rolling countryside, relishing the sun shining down on her head. Her honeymoon had been wonderful, visiting the lakes arm in arm with her husband and staying at inns and hotels along the way. But finally they were going home, home to Pemberley.
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