It was the last Sunday of March 1810.
Mr. Darcy fingered the edges of the neat stack of papers before him. He expected fewer applications for the position of a governess for which he and his cousin spread the net among their connections. In the three years after his father's death, he had managed his sister's education himself. However, in the last year new circumstances had arisen, and Mr. Darcy found himself lacking the time necessary to ensure his sister's proper schooling.
Mrs. Younge was one of the older applicants despite her name, Mr. Darcy noted aloud. "She provides rather stellar recommendations, but her focus seems rather too old fashioned." He handed the letter to his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The soldier glanced over the neat text.
"I cannot comprehend why you deemed me the expert on the education of young ladies, Fitz." The colonel folded the paper before handing it back to Mr. Darcy. "I've asked my married sisters, of course. I'm not sure you'll like what they had to say."
"Well?" Mr. Darcy placed Mrs. Younge's letter on the pile of the potential candidates.
"Do you want to have Georgiana educated so she understands the world around her or would you like her accomplished, so she can be whisked off the first season she's out?" The colonel chuckled. "Their words, not mine. Also, keep in mind my family has a long-standing feud with the author of Émile when it comes to the education of poor Sophie. We're not the most objective source."
Mr. Darcy sighed. He thought of his sister, a girl of fourteen, whose curiosity encompassed the minutest details of the nature, and who would have been celebrated as the musical prodigy of their time – had she been born his brother.
"And there is another point you need to consider," continued the Colonel. "The governess should be someone you would trust with Georgie's safety and honour when we're not around. Do you think Mrs. Younge would be a safe choice to accompany Georgie to London? To Bath?"
"That is a problem lying several years in the future, Richard."
"Maybe, but don't fool yourself. The moment will come sooner than you expect. Most of the ladies debut around sixteen."
"Absolutely not."
"I'm not saying you should start to throw together a wedding. I ought to point out, though, that our little amazon while amazingly gifted in certain areas, lacks the necessary model for the behaviour among the annoying masses of the ton."
"Speak plainly, Richard."
"Being burrowed here with your charmingly misanthropic self hardly makes one a social butterfly, cousin, let alone a model of feminine arts."
Mr. Darcy had to concede to the idea. "That is a valid point, no matter how much I despise it."
"I knew you'd see the reason. Who's next?" The Colonel lounged on the armchair while Mr. Darcy read through the other application letter.
"Well, this one seems a bit too young. Barely twenty." He read further. "Miss Bennet is a gentleman's daughter who has just graduated a seminary. Although, her list of skills and interests rather suggests a quite thorough home-schooling. Curious."
"Twenty, you say? Poor thing. Either she's got no dowry, or she's frighteningly hideous. That is quite a young age for giving up the possibility of marriage."
"I'm more worried about the lack of experience." He leafed through the letter. "Although, the headmistress of the seminary provides a stellar recommendation of her character and intelligence. That should speak of something."
"You seem decided."
"Out of all applicants this the single one who can read Latin."
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. "Of course, that would be the most important aspect. Poor Georgie will never escape Principia now."
. . .
Six weeks later, Mr. Darcy found himself in his study in Pemberley yet again. There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Reynolds announced his guest's arrival. Miss Bennet, the unknown entity whom he was to welcome into his household, entered the room.
She was petite and dark-haired. And not frighteningly hideous at all. She was dressed in a rather stark pelisse with little to no trimmings or decorations.
"Sir," she curtseyed. "Thank you for inviting me to Pemberley."
"Miss Bennet." He rose from his chair to bow. "Please, have a seat." He gestured towards the armchair facing his desk.
She had a rather energetic stride for someone of her height. As she settled down, he had the opportunity to inspect her triangular face from close. A small mouth and a pointy chin. A nose that was slightly longer than an artist would have liked. Large, heavy-lidded eyes the colour of bistre.
"Scientia tua de lingua Latina est minus usitata, domina," he said, his tongue feeling heavy with the unfamiliarity. Latin was to be read, not to speak.
His remark about her unusual language skill earned him a small smile. "It helped with learning Spanish and French," she answered in Latin as well. Unlike himself, her pronunciation carried the faster cadence of Italian. Mr. Darcy guessed that was the first Romance language she had learned.
"You will find that Latin will be particularly useful in instructing my sister's studies. The library should provide plenty of material to perfect the skill." She nodded. "Most of treatises on natural philosophy are written in Latin, as well as the older historiography." Her intense gaze was rather unnerving, he noted to himself. "I must make myself clear from the very start: I chose you for this position because your education most closely reflects the one, I aim for my sister. She is a very curious, extremely intelligent girl, and I would despise seeing her talents untended."
"Of course," was her solemn reply. "Although I admit your request is not exactly expected."
"I am perfectly aware of that. I am not opposed to her learning the traditional accomplishments. But I am under no illusion they would cultivate her mind to the full potential."
"I promise I will try, sir."
"Good. I hope you will not be disconcerted by me attending to your lessons in the beginning. I need to know I leave my sister in good hands."
There was a flash of something in her dark eyes.
"Sure. Your concern is reasonable."
"I am glad we can agree." He rose from his seat. "Mrs. Reynolds will take care of you from now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Bennet."
"I'm honoured, sir." She curtsied.
A few moments later, he was alone in his study yet again.