Chapter Nine
I was as ridiculously gloomy over the next period as could be expected from any girl who could consider herself abandoned by a lover.
Would he return? Ever?
Perhaps I would never see him evermore. At least not for a span of six months or a year, not until his new continental wanderings had bored him once more, and his travelling ways brought him back to his true home, back to Pemberley.
But by then… by then he would have forgotten all about me — all about the short governess with a refusal to treat him as a master, but rather an insistence on teasing him and pretending to be friends.
And I?
Would I by such a date have forgotten all about him?
I did not know.
We did not manage very happily, not one of the three of us, over the next ten days. Cathy did not apply herself to her studies, and she did not take much joy in wandering outside and running and exploring. I did not have the energy or application to press her to study. I spent my nights calling myself a fool, and insisting I had been stupid, stupid to ever begin to hold a hope regarding Mr. Darcy, and I cried myself to sleep twice that week.
Georgiana was the least affected of us, but even she played only melancholy airs — excellently — for the first three days following her brother's departure. After that she insisted we all play games of Sardines, or chess, or whatever else took her fancy in the evening.
She was an excellent girl who had noted the down facedness of her companions, and took it upon herself to do what usually has been my duty and cheer the party up. Seeing that I made a strong effort to be more happy for both her sake and Cathy's sake. By the time we received a message from Mr. Darcy about his plans I had worked myself to the point that I was tolerably cheerful, except at night and alone in bed.
Yes, I know: I was the perfect representation of the young girl helplessly in love with a man above her station. I cut a ridiculous figure and I knew it. I did often manage to laugh at myself and my own sighs, but that did not stop me from hurting and missing Mr. Darcy.
The message Darcy sent to us was not what I had expected — he was returning.
Georgiana grinned like a lunatic when she ran up to the schoolroom upon receiving the note via express from Mr. Darcy.
He was to return in one week with a large party of friends, and they were to establish themselves at Pemberley for a house party of several weeks duration, there was a list of names in the guest list, and amongst the names was my benefactor and friend Mr. Bingley.
Darcy had written a long message to Georgiana, three pages, both sides, all in neat even handwriting, a most masculine and scholarly hand, he did not let the lines run together at all, and used many words in three syllables — Georgiana handed me the letter to read, and I did to the end, twice.
I was clearly infatuated from how much I admired his handwriting.
Not a word to me though — not though I had, according to him, saved his life.
Very unkind of him.
There was only one mention of my name: 'Do ensure Miss Bennet knows to continue to work with Catherine upon her French, and to give her ample time to practice her singing, as it will be likely she will be asked to display during the duration of the party.'
The only mention of my name.
I for a brief instant upon reading that line the second time, hated him completely, and also ridiculously. I think we all know that when we are in love, our emotions are no longer rational creatures.
Georgiana also could tell that Mr. Darcy had said surprisingly little to me. There was a hesitancy in her manner while we talked about Mr. Darcy's letter. A hesitancy which suggested that she too thought that simple friendship, even if Mr. Darcy disclaimed any tenderer feeling towards his hired governess, simple friendship ought have prompted him to send me a salutation with such a lengthy letter.
Really, he ought to have.
The estate was greatly abuzz that whole day about the party — such a party, an invitation that would fill up more than half the guest rooms of the big house — a meeting beyond one or two friends, or members of the family had not happened at Pemberley since the old days, since when Mr. Darcy's father yet lived. Additional servants were borrowed from the neighboring estates, intending to be kept for the duration of the party, the rooms opened up and given thorough airings out, the blankets and sheets changed, and washed, and hung out in great lines in the yard, flapping like so many doves in a restless flock, all supervised carefully by Mrs. Reynolds.
Cathy was full of excitement at the promise that she would be called to perform in front of so many gentlemen and ladies. She at first had been extremely shy, and then with my and Georgiana's gentle persuasion, she became enthused for the idea, and insisted on practicing her singing till it was past time for dinner, and I needed to stop her, for I detected the beginning of a roughness in her tone that might indicate she was starting to go hoarse.
I went to bed that night with the oddest combination of dejection and elation, and I cannot, not to this day, say which had the bigger part of my feelings.
And then I awaited the return of him, of Mr. Darcy.
Time does strange things when you are impatient. It became so slow, that though only a week passed from the letter to Mr. Darcy's return, it was like the longest month of my life. The weather was warm, and the schoolroom was stuffy.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
The swinging of the pendulum clock. I watched it bored when I had nothing else to do but wait.
I wanted so much to see him, even though I found my eagerness completely ridiculous in a tragic yet comic way. I wanted to see his tall figure and his noble mien, to hear his deep commanding voice again — to be able to cast my eyes once more over that beloved form which I had no right to love.
At last on the Tuesday following the receipt of the note they came, a line of carriages, all high sprung with gleaming yellow wheels, and teams of four well matched horses, postillions riding proudly to the front and liveried footmen running along the sides to display honor of the house.
Two carriages I recognized, one near the back that I had seen many times when it called on Longbourn before Papa died — Mr. Bingley's.
The other carriage was of course the one furthest to the front, Mr. Darcy's.
Cathy bounced up and down, her girlish pigtails waving back and forth as she stared out the open window at the crowd from the upper floor window of our schoolroom.
I'd opened the mullioned window, to let the warm spring breeze, fragrant with mown grass, replace the stuffy air. We clearly heard the clatter of the wheels, the servants chattering to each other, the jovial shouts of the drivers, and the neighing horses' clopping hooves.
Mr. Darcy's carriage pulled to a stop, and he stepped out standing tall. He settled his fine beaver hat on his head, and looked around at his guests and his estate. He noticed me standing and staring at him in the window. I confess I felt forlorn that I had no right to run up to him and greet him — and I envied Georgiana, who had that right.
Our eyes met; my heart leaped, or maybe was pierced.
Then he turned away, and seeing Georgiana coming for him, he embraced her and picked her up and put a kiss on her forehead. Then Darcy loudly greeted his friends as they exited their carriages. Everyone talking, smiling and laughing.
I sat in the window for the entire time, while the wealthy guests clustered around Mr. Darcy, some set off for walks, and most entered the hall with Mr. Darcy. Catherine sat in my lap so she could watch as well, and so that I could make the pretense that I was caring for the child, rather than simply watching Mr. Darcy obsessively.
The whole time Mr. Darcy was effusive and smiling, shaking everyone's hand, and directing the servants quickly and efficiently. None of the gentlemen were so tall as him, nor so robust, he walked about them in a manner that reminded me of a passage from that one book in the Bible that well-bred young ladies were not supposed to read (and hence the one that I had read the most eagerly): He was radiant and ruddy, and outstanding amongst ten thousand men.
Mr. Darcy kissed the hands of the women amongst the large noisy party, and he smiled at them all. Each wore an extravagant travelling dress, trimmed with fine materials, and cut in what I knew from the magazines I'd looked at with Georgiana was in the highest fashion this season. All wore fabulous hats that made me rather envious. I had never, not even as Miss Bennet dressed a tenth so fine as most of them.
I observed from my perch Mr. Bingley's wife bedecked in jewels and hanging lace, despite having travelled the whole day; next to her was Miss Bingley, Mr. Bingley's sister. The two of us had always politely despised each other.
Not once did he look up at me again.
And then our little excitement was over: All the guests had entered the estate, and there was too much building between us and them for the sounds of the guests settling in to be very audible in our schoolroom.
I looked down at Cathy, who I embraced tightly.
She wriggled side to side. "Papa is back! And with so many friends! Did you see all of the pretty ladies? So very pretty, aren't they?"
"Yes." I smiled at her and kissed her forehead.
"Maybe Papa will marry one of them, and then I'll have a mother, and we'll be a happy family."
I could not reply to that.
Cathy did not notice my discontent, and she hopped out of my lap and insisted on practicing her song again. The whole time she speculated on how long it would be before Mr. Darcy called her down to perform — surely Papa would request her to sing for the guests this evening.
Mr. Darcy did not.
He merely ducked into the schoolroom for five minutes a little before dinner was served to look in on Cathy, listen to her babbling with a smile. He apologized that it would certainly not be tonight that he would call her down to perform. But he explained this in a manner that soothed Cathy's disappointment. All the guests were quite tired and out of sorts after a long carriage ride, and they would be so much more attentive and interested the next night.
When Mr. Darcy entered the schoolroom, he looked at me with his intense dark-eyed gaze. My heart flipped and beat rapid.
But then he spoke not a word to me, nothing beyond "Hello, Miss Bennet," muttered off handedly, and while he was not looking at me.
Then, without even a goodbye for me — not even a goodbye for the woman who had saved his life — he departed.
Such a change! So this was how he meant to discourage me from my pretensions! Unnecessary cruelty!