Chapter Three
All notion of time had been lost to Darcy since his sister had decided to re-enact Romeo and Juliet. He was distracted by Georgiana's nonsense and desperate attempt at love and lust now more than ever.
"Her Ladyship is refusing to eat, my Lord." Hannah scampered back and forth from Georgiana's room, upstairs and downstairs, like a mouse scuttling and hiding away from a rat.
"Hannah, whatever you need to do, please make her eat,"
"'But my Lord, she won't. I have tried. I really have —- "
"Try harder, Hannah." Darcy wouldn't have cared at this stage if Georgiana had to be force-fed with a tube. Or a funnel. In fact, he'd do it himself if he knew how and could do it safely. Then Georgiana would be well. She'd be healthy. He would not be haunted by dreams of his mother and father sobbing, wondering what he had done to their poor daughter. Wondering what kind of monster they had raised to take their place as parents. How irresponsible. Darcy flinched at the thought of his grandfather, much more haggard than Georgiana's but still the exact likeness.
Winston had been more exasperating in his hints and barbs, in Darcy finding a suitable wife, a decent female with a noble connection, a perfect role model for Georgiana to follow. Darcy suspected Winston was insinuating that this would ever have happened if Darcy had sorted it. Darcy finally pensioned off the elderly valet. However, he could not get Winston off Pemberley, as Darcy's father had left Winston a tenant cottage in the estate, right near Darcy's prized sheep. Every day when Darcy rode out, the aggravating man would spring out from nowhere to greet Darcy and offer unwelcomed advice.
Darcy decided to take his sister to London. He also wanted to check on more new breeds of sheep for sale. Much to his distaste, he believed he needed Charles, his friend, and Richard's help now more than ever, even more so than they would ever realise.
Winston got wind of Darcy's intended trip to London from Hannah today. He crossed paths with Darcy on the meadow again. "It will be the best thing for you, My Lord. I am sure they have more than enough connections and would know of a suitable lady," Winston said. "Perhaps they may be able to put you in the right direction. A well-bred, knowledgeable woman would be best, one who could take on the Darcy name as well as your mother did, and as gracefully so."
"A woman with good taste in fashion but doesn't chatter too much. One who knows when to stop and sit in the presence of each other,"
Darcy tried to remember if Winston was married. He did, very briefly, if Darcy remembered correctly from what his father told him. Poor woman, he thought.
"A woman who is comely, pale and slight but with good hips to bear children. You will need a good strong son to take your place one day, and I'll be reinstalled by his side as I am yours." Winston was so old Darcy thought he would probably be dead by the time Darcy had a son and was grown.
And that was another thing to worry about - a child. How could he care for a child, do what was right, and be a role model when he couldn't do that for his own sister? Darcy's mind wandered. He wondered, for a moment, what a woman might truly think of him. He felt his face. He wondered if his brown eyes, instead of his thick wallet, were attractive to women. He wondered if his feet were too big. The coarse black hairs all over his body sprouted everywhere. His eyebrows were so thick when he furrowed them he could scarcely see.
Darcy shook this thought away, knowing that love might be something that would be an addition. It was not necessary. It was faulty, just like Shakespeare's ideals. Or any literature, for that matter, despite his love for romantic poetry. They had chosen to write about that, finding it inside them to pour their heart out.
"A good colour can do wonders for attraction," Winston interrupted Darcy's weird thoughts. The ex-valet scrunched his nose in distaste, staring at the dull clothes Darcy had put on himself. Darcy did not have time to interview for a new valet yet.
"Then perhaps you might consider wearing a daisy crown instead of a hat, Winston?" The retired valet scowled.
"I am not looking for a wife today. There is really no need for any colours,"
"The longer you sit around discussing, my Lord, the longer poor Lady Georgiana falls into disarray without a good female role model to follow. Now, would you require my assistance with hiring a new valet or keeping an eye on your sheep while you are away in London?"
Darcy gritted his teeth. God helped him to trust Winston on those two matters.
"I can deal with them. Goodbye Winston."
And good riddance, Darcy thought!
~0~
Back in London, niece and aunt bathed in the afternoon sun. Enveloped in perfect company, undisturbed. Elizabeth treasured the time she spent with her. It filled her with happiness that was her own kind of sunshine. Her mother would dare not impose on them whilst Aunt Magdalene was present. There was a hold in Elizabeth's heart that she dreaded. The time they spent would have to end, and Aunt Magdalene would leave. So, she would treasure this time at the moment. Everything from her was too hard, embellished in flowers. Despite her ailments, the bold colours she wore and the walking stick made her perfectly content. A woman that did so much good and on her own terms. Elizabeth longed for that feeling. Elizabeth's mother could never imagine an unmarried woman as happy as Aunt Magdalene.
"I apologise for being so harsh on Lydia," Aunt Magdalene murmured. "I will give her my apology later. But Lydia always grated on my nerve."
"I know, Aunt. I feel the same," Elizabeth smiled.
"My dear, your reputation has not been ruined by tripping out of a carriage, my goodness. If that was the case, half the ladies in this country would be unwed and banished from good society."
"And I didn't fall into horse dung, as Lydia said. I only stepped on it and ruined my dancing shoes. Momma seems to think I would be laughed at by the whole of England. She hasn't been able to look me in the eye since it happened."
"Do you want to look your mother in the eyes? Perhaps this is a blessing to escape her endless scrutiny, even for a moment." They both laughed. Her aunt continued.
"Your mother's answer to solving all problems was to weep. And what for? Just a load of dribble in the newspaper? After reading that, I stopped by this morning to make sure you are well."
"I haven't read it yet."
"It's utter rubbish. Any sensible individual would know it was a simple, human mistake. Something your mother forgets. Sometimes I think she wants you and your sisters to be living dolls."
"What should I do, dear aunt?"
"There's nothing to do, dear. It's hardly worth feigning an illness or responding. My goodness, if Mr Wordsworth took a look at you, he would fall in love with you." Elizabeth giggled. She blushed excitedly as her aunt took a stack of books from her bag. Leather bound and seeping with romantic poems - the most beautiful Elizabeth had ever read.
"These are for you, dear, the romantic poems of the century. Perhaps it may let you forget about this whole ordeal." Magdalene looked around the garden as if the very garden Elizabeth's mother stepped on bothered her. She wiggled her walking stick and continued, "It is a good day to help the world, isn't it, dear? To do some good! Would you like to join me? You were so good at it the last time. You have a natural talent for helping others."
"I'd love to, Aunt." Between the books in her hand and the thought of doing something beyond what her mother wanted, Elizabeth felt more excited than she had in a long time. She still worried about her aunt. It took her longer to stand up these days. She often used her walking stick as a weapon, something to show dominance and independence. But as of late, she'd been using it more for its intended purpose. Elizabeth took a deep breath.
"Dear aunt, have you been feeling well as of late? I'm sure the doctor may help. He would be more than happy to."
"Nonsense!" Magdalene looked as if she were swatting away a fly. She took another strange look at her niece. Elizabeth inspected the lines on her face - soft constellations. The same worry lines her father had. They were so alike. Perhaps that's why they got along so agreeably. She was just like a feminine incarnation of her beloved father, except being more spirited. Elizabeth inspected her aunt until she noticed two tiny spots of red on her nose and some smears by her mouth.
"Dear Aunt I-"Noticing the concern in Elizabeth's eyes, Magdalene quickly wiped her nose and mouth with a handkerchief and disregarded it as if it were nothing. Her aunt grabbed her niece's hand.
"I will not have my niece prance around like a fool. Come with me." Hand in hand, they stormed inside. Her aunt snickered at the scales Lydia played on the piano. "Such a waste." She muttered. She took Elizabeth up to her bedroom.
"Maggie, have the white paste wiped off Elizabeth's face."
"But the mistress said - "Maggie protested.
"Yes, Mrs. Bennet would rather have her daughter look like a corpse. I am well aware of that. But I say otherwise, and I'm sure Mr. Bennet would say otherwise, too. Now, dispose of this mess immediately."
Maggie solemnly filled a basin as if she were devastated that her handy work on Elizabeth's face would have to be erased. Her magnum opus in her art.
Equally, Elizabeth felt a twinge of guilt as she knew she'd have to face her mother's wrath for going against her wishes. Her face was so caked in powder and paint the sink resembled melted snow. Certainly, Elizabeth's rosy cheeks and colour returned quickly, although her skin itched with all the plaster. Her freckles sat as clear as her aunt's and father's. She could see herself once more in the mirror.
"Charming." Her aunt said. She beamed with delight. Aunt Magdalene put her head on Elizabeth's shoulder.
Maggie took her leave at this show of affection; no doubt she would report it to her mother.
Elizabeth always appreciated these small acts of affection from Aunt Magdalene, for she knew she would never receive them from her mother; but there was something on her mind. It weighed on Elizabeth's head from the moment her pale aunt walked in, the dried blood spots around her face, using her walking stick for balance and not a weapon anymore.
"Aunt, are you ill?" The words fell out.
Magdalene lifted her head, flattening down her niece's chestnut hair.
"Elizabeth, you were very handsome last night,"
"Auntie — "
"Darling, you have a true and virtuous nature. Do not let any gentleman overlook that. Like Viola in the twelfth night, no matter how you are presented, what you do or what you see yourself as, your true nature will shine through, and for that, you can never be faulted."
"But what about Mamma — "
"Your Mamma is a fool to think any less of you." She ran her hands through Elizabeth's hair. Her wrists seemed like a warm lavender against the paleness of her skin. Elizabeth thought Aunt Magdalene must be ill, but she didn't want to ruin this moment.
"A true gentleman will see you for who you truly are. And who knows, darling, maybe he shall be in disguise too. Most true men do not parade themselves as some do."
Elizabeth nodded. "Can I help you this afternoon? At Saint Bartholemew's?"
Her aunt gave a warm smile.
"I could see no one else doing a better job." Magdalene had an appointment with her banker and said she would send a carriage to collect Elizabeth after lunch.
In the mirror, Elizabeth could see her reflection fully at last.
~0~
Elizabeth felt relieved and like herself again. Once her aunt left, she floated down the stairs. The thought of luncheon with her family suddenly seemed not to alarm her as it once did. On her dresser, without Maggie to dictate what she did or wore, she added a small amount of rouge to her cheeks. A small act of rebellion she thought no one would be able to notice. An act of freedom that filled her heart with absolute joy, against feeling like servitude to her family name - her mother. Maggie caught her eye in the mirror.
"Miss, I would scrub that rouge off before your mother sees if I were you." Elizabeth rolled her eyes. As light as air, she walked past Maggie,
"Better be brave and truthful, dear Maggie, instead of being a sheep!"
On the way to the dining room, Elizabeth was intercepted by her mother in the drawing room. Mrs. Bennet posed so straight as if there were a pole making her back stick up, her eyes transfixed on the fireplace. Elizabeth gulped. She knew her mother was waiting for her.
"Hello, Mamma,"
"Sit."
Elizabeth did as she was told. The happiness she felt an hour earlier somehow melted away.
"If we are to keep up appearances, dear daughter, you are to wear that makeup. You are to feign illness. Otherwise, how are you supposed to keep your reputation in a good society?"
"But Aunt Magdalene — "
"Do not mention that woman's name! She is childless. She does not know what it takes to raise a lady."
"Mamma, perhaps we don't have to pretend?"
Her mother let out a sarcastic laugh. She stood up, fixing her perfectly set back yellow hair; wisps of grey fell from the places she couldn't pin back. She couldn't always keep up appearances.
"What does anyone do but pretend?"
"I don't understand what you mean — "
"Do you think I didn't have to fill Lydia's head full of nonsense when we told her about appropriate literature, so she didn't seem like a fool? Or make excuses that Mary's husband travels so often, which is why she cannot bear a child? Or that Jane doesn't sing like a donkey's hee-haw!"
"Falling out of my carriage doesn't mean the end of all of my prospects, Mamma," Elizabeth tried to stay strong, but her mother could be a ruthless woman. "Aunt Magdalene said it does not mean the end of all of my prospects, that a suitor should see me for all of my virtues —"
"The newspaper says otherwise."
Elizabeth snorted, realising her mistake. It was enough that she could feel the heat from her mother's growing rage. Elizabeth tried to think desperately of an excuse, but none came. She was tired, she was delirious — she was indeed ill.
"You will not be going to Saint Bartholomew's with that woman. I don't want you mixing with that sort."
Elizabeth was engraved now. She had hoped her mother could feel the heat of her rage because it burned more than anything now.
"Mamma, it is charity work. To help the less fortunate,"
"We do our part by paying taxes, so there is no need to mix with those sorts. Who knows what kind of diseases they have. Not to mention your aunt, she's hiding something. And I don't mean a pleasant surprise!"
"Mamma, stop!"
"And say you catch it from her, what then?"
"Then it will be what you want, Mamma," Her mother raised an eyebrow. "That I truly will be ill."
"Ignorant girl." Mrs. Bennet came closer.
Elizabeth remembered a time when she was thrashed for laughing in church. She could remember many instances of that. Perhaps if she had blonde hair and blue eyes and cared about no one, only then would her mother be happy.
But Mrs Bennet decided to retreat and sit back down, staring at the fireplace once more as if to conjure up a demon from hell to help her.
"Out of all my children, you have been the most disappointing."
There it came. What Elizabeth knew her mother thought but never said, with every complaint, every lecture - every imperfection pointed out.
"If I am your biggest disappointment, Mamma, you must be doing something correctly."
Elizabeth left the room, leaving her mother's mouth gaped open. There was no call after her. No shouts, no screams of indignation - but this was seared onto their relationship forever and her mother would conjure up something. Marry her to the first man who would take Elizabeth, besides her mistakes. It was Elizabeth's turn to conjure something.
~0~
"Miss, I do not think this is a good idea." Elizabeth quickly changed into a more modest, light brown dress, slightly raised at the bottom. She took her satchel and pulled it over her.
"Maggie, please don't tell Mamma." Maggie stepped back, unsure of what to do. Elizabeth took the maid's hands and looked her in the eyes.
"If you do this, I will save some cakes in the morning for you. I know how much you like them," Still unconvinced, the maid was flushed.
"I'll. let you read one of my books?" Elizabeth felt she was running out of things to bribe Maggie, but it had to be done. She rummaged around the bookcase by the bed.
"Ah, Tom a Lincoln! Read this. You'll like it, Maggie." She placed the book in her maid's hands and clasped her hands around it. Maggie's eyes widened with curiosity.
"Don't think I don't see you looking over my shoulder when I read."
"Miss, I'm sorry I -"
"Don't be sorry, here, keep it! Just please, don't tell Mamma."
Maggie nodded. Elizabeth quickly hopped down the stairs and dashed through the servant's quarters. She was gone before her mother could make it to the hallway. She was always light on her feet. Today, especially when she aimed to run away!
A.N. Dear Sunday friends,
Oh, oh, what will happen next? Thank you for reading and feel free to leave me your speculation.
And thank you for the wonderful comments. I hope you had a good week and enjoyed the drama in the Darcy and Bennet households in this chapter, even though there is no big secret to reveal from Aunt Magdalene.
Regarding the age of the Bennet sisters. Here they are: Lydia - 24 years old, Mary - 22, Elizabeth - 20 and Jane - 16 years old. Yes, hehe, Lydia is almost a spinster!
A reader finally told me why the title of this story is weird. It has some strange sexual connotation. So I'm doing a poll at Facebook Groups - Austen Readers, Jane Austen Fan Club, and ask for title suggestions. You can head over there to vote. Thank you.
