Chapter Eleven

A house party is a delightful creature.

I have hosted many, and attended even more over the course of my life, and there is little that anyone can enjoy more than the presence of boon companions and friends, living in the same house for a period of weeks with every convenience and pleasure that great wealth can bring at beck and call.

The general party of eight families called together by Mr. Darcy had a delightful time over the following two weeks. They gathered together all of the old wigs and antiquated clothing stored in the attics for charades, they had pyramids of fruits set before them in buffet every day. Every book worth reading was available to access from the library. Endless activities: Rowing in the pond; Fishing in the well-stocked streams; Field games on the cropped grasses in the glorious sun; Tennis, swimming, and pugilistic contests.

And of course the women were able to sit in vituperative contests with each other while the sporting men enjoyed themselves out in the open air. As it transpired none of the women, except a fashionable matron of more than fifty who'd been a close friend of Mr. Darcy's mother, were particularly attached to Mr. Darcy. They all were there because he was a friend of their brother, father or husband.

The day after Cathy's song, Mr. Darcy visited us in the schoolroom. He entered the room, as I had a large book of history out over my lap, and I was telling stories to Cathy from what I had read in other books about the War of the Roses.

He knocked softly and then immediately entered the room, but he paused, framed in the doorway, his head nearly touching the top of it. There was that warmth again in his eyes.

I stood blushing to see him.

We looked at each other, eyes mingling, my heart beating, and I thought his too. His color was high, his face flushed. He was so handsome, lit from the side by the morning sun coming through the window, his fine wool coat wrapped around his body. It was almost painful to see him, and it is almost painful to remember the way my heart was pierced that day by simply seeing his eyes.

Then Darcy stepped deeper into the room, and the awkwardness returned.

He mumbled, without looking at me, "You look well today, Miss Bennet" — I had heard him call me Elizabeth that night.

I wondered if in his mind I was Miss Bennet, or if in the private thoughts that Darcy dared not share with anyone, if I was then Elizabeth. Or did he never even think of me, as perhaps shown by his not mentioning me in his letter to Georgiana, and thus he did not need a name to use for me in his head.

Mr. Darcy sat, looked at me, looked at Cathy, looked at the piano with a vase of fresh cut lilies standing on it, looked at the pile of children's books, natural histories with plates, and works of history with titles such as An Illustrated History of England, for the Edification of Children, and then he looked back at me — there was no ease.

This was not the manner of a man who never thought upon me.

Cathy began prattling to make up for the silence between us, and Darcy encouraged her to sit on his lap, which I had seldom seen him to do before, and he smiled at her, listening and nodding. His manner as he glanced at me and encouraged Cathy to speak suggested that he wished me to see him treating the child he had referred to as the spawn of that woman more kindly — Cathy talked at great length about how much fun she had had the previous night, how lovely the ladies were, and how lovely the song had been.

Mr. Darcy sat with us talking to Cathy for far longer than had been his wont before he left for London. The whole time I watched him longingly.

I did not want Mr. Darcy to see the longing in my eyes.

When our eyes met, a flame sparked between us, like flint striking stone. A sense of us being kindred spirits sparked in his eye and leapt from there to lodge in my breast, where it stung with equal happiness and pain.

When at last Darcy sighed, he turned to me with a smile and said, "You must not expect too much application from Cathy while the party is present here." He squeezed the girl on his lap. "You must wish to play and run about and watch everyone."

"Oh, yes, Papa!" the girl squealed.

"Two hours each day — Cathy, can you study that much for me? And then you shall be free by noon to do as you want — only while the party remains with us."

"Yes, Papa! Yes I can do that."

"Promise you will study diligently, and then study extra to catch up after the party departs."

Cathy clapped her little hands together. "Yes, Papa! Yes!"

He stood and hugged her again, and then with a small bow to me added, "Miss Bennet, I expect to see you in the drawing room with the general party each day."

"But—"

"You will need to keep an eye on Cathy, and I do not wish you to disappear like the proverbial governess. You are not merely my employee, but also my friend."

I looked at him with shining eyes. But then I said, "I could not push myself upon the notice of your guests."

"Then do not, but Georgiana certainly will be happier with you present, and you will need to do no pushing to gain Mr. Bingley's attention. I have determined this, Miss Bennet, and I expect to see you each day."

With that he left, and I was not at all sure if Mr. Darcy had done me a favor, or the opposite.

Over the following week I spent hours in the drawing room with the party, a time chiefly spent either reading, or pretending to read. However I did enter into an acquaintanceship with a few of the less haughty and less sneering members of the party. And of course Mr. Bingley always was happy to spend a quarter of an hour speaking to me.

A week into the party, Mr. Darcy rode away from the house shortly after noon one day, as he had to deal with a tenant matter some miles away that was serious and had arisen unexpectedly. He was not expected to return until dark.

Without Mr. Darcy to animate it, the room became dull and decidedly empty of interest to me, though the gentlemen and ladies continued to play their conversible games with each other.

About an hour after Mr. Darcy had left on horse, unexpectedly a fine large carriage with a team of four came up the long carriageway and stopped in front of the house to allow its august occupant to exit the carriage. I was sitting by a window that overlooked the avenue and the park, and so I watched the woman exit the carriage, her arm supported by the attentive footman. Cathy sat next to me, pressing her face against the glass of the window.

The new arrival was an older woman with grey hair piled high, and a sweeping hat with a large feather, and a blue silk dress bulging out behind with bustles. Without looking either to the right or the left, nor up or down, the woman marched up to the door, and had her footman to loudly strike the ringer, which was heard clearly in the drawing room.

This brought a crowd to the windows to see who might be our new guest.

Georgiana came to sit next to me, and she peered out at the carriage closely, and then she closed her eyes, going paler. "Oh, no!"

"Who — who is it?"

"My aunt. Lady Catherine — Fitzwilliam said he'd made her swear to never visit again."

But oath or not, she was here, and here for some purpose I could not guess at.

Lady Catherine was seen to the drawing room by the butler, and she entered dramatically. She was not a large woman, but her mannerism and her clothing made her seem to take up more space than she actually did. This was a woman accustomed to gaining her own way, and accustomed to thinking meanly of the worth of those around her.

Her eyes immediately leapt to Georgiana who sat palely next to me. "Niece, I hear your brother is absent at present. I will speak with you — call for my granddaughter as well."

Georgiana gulped. She looked at me pleadingly. "I don't wish to speak to her."

The commanding voice cracked again. "To me, Georgiana Darcy. To me."

Unwillingly Georgiana rose and walked over. I wondered if I should or could help my friend. But I was just the governess, and it was not my place to countermand such a commanding woman — in truth I did not know if I could.

Cathy looked wide eyed at her grandmother. She looked at me as Lady Catherine walked Georgiana out of the room so she might have a private conversation with her. "Who is that? She looks so scary."

Yes, given the rupture between the families, it was no surprise to me that Cathy did not recognize the old woman. But that childish worry about a woman who ought to have been a dearly beloved person to her gave me an odd sense of doom.

After an awful pause in which the company had returned to talking loudly to each other Lady Catherine returned with Georgiana. Georgiana's face was pale, and I thought her eyes were red as though she had been crying. However there was something firmer in her than I was used to seeing. She looked like her brother when he was angry. Lady Catherine also looked deeply dissatisfied, as she walked up to us.

"I shall at least be introduced to my granddaughter. No matter what you say of your brother's wishes, I'll not be put off in that."

Georgiana glared at her, and then took Cathy's hand, leading her from me to Lady Catherine. "Cathy, this is your grandmother, Lady Catherine."

The girl stared wide eyed at the glaring woman.

Lady Catherine said after a while, "You do not look like much. But still my blood. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Cathy burst into tears, and Lady Catherine looked away disgusted. "I never allowed Anne to cry, never. I'd punish her every time — take her away. I'll speak to Mr. Darcy about how her raising has been mismanaged."

Lady Catherine then walked to stand next to the fireplace, while I joined Cathy and Georgiana. The three of us left the room and went upstairs to the schoolroom, where Cathy's nurse sat, reading a Gothic novel.

Georgiana furiously said the moment we were out of earshot of other guests, "I hate that woman. Hate her. What is she doing here? And to imagine we would ever treat Cathy, a child we love, like she treated Anne. To imagine pretending she did anything right in raising Anne. I hate her. I wish she was not here. But I didn't let her. I did not."

"Let her do what?"

"Speak to Cathy alone, and question her on her education — she wished to do that the instant she heard that Fitzwilliam was not here. I didn't let her though. I hate her. Brother hates her as much as I do. He'll send Lady Catherine off and not even allow her to stay the night, I dare say."

We stayed in the schoolroom for a while, and Georgiana went to the piano to angrily play a rousing piece by Schubert, followed by another complicated piece of music I did not recognize.

After a while Cathy fell asleep for a nap. Georgiana determined to go to her room, saying that she did not wish to even see Lady Catherine and I — drawn by curiosity — left Cathy in the care of her nurse, and returned to the drawing room.

Everyone was in a tizzy to look at Lady Catherine standing alone, silent and disapproving.

I heard the snippets of conversation about her all about when I returned to my alcove to sit and watch: "They say she is exceedingly wealthy."

"They never speak — never. It is because Mr. Darcy loved Mrs. Darcy so much, and they say Mrs. Darcy suffered horribly from her mother as a child."

"No, no — Mr. Darcy did not like Mrs. Darcy at all, can you not see that in how little he likes his daughter."

"Ridiculous, I have never seen a more attentive father."

"No, no — he is uncomfortable around the little monkey, but that is merely because she reminds him so clearly of Mrs. Darcy."

"A child! And I knew Mrs. Darcy. I cannot believe Mr. Darcy could have cared a wit for her."

"Lady Catherine is one of the most impressive women in England — they do not raise women such as her anymore. Not like when I was a boy."

"An obnoxious busy body. Everyone would laugh at her if she wasn't absurdly well stacked in the cash. Stuffed with juice."

Lady Catherine seemed entirely uncaring that she was the subject of speculation and commentary. She stood by the warmth of the fire, with a black cashmere knit shawl over her shoulders, doubly keeping her warm, with her gnarled hands grasping around the golden head of her black cane that she leaned on. She wore a widow's cap, the black fringe covering her voluminous hair, gone an iron grey. Behind her her grand blue silk dress widened out, as she wore archaic bustles, popular forty years before, now quite dropped by fashion.

I had read something about the developing science of phrenology, which has achieved new heights of accuracy and value in the decades since, and I studied Lady Catherine to see what I might discern from her physiognomy.

There was a bulge that showed a vast amount of self-approval and confidence, and yet another that indicated stubbornness, but of a conscience, I could see no sign.

Or perhaps, having no expertise, and no chance to feel her skull to closely find what lumps were there, I merely imagined this to be the case from the tales I had heard of this woman's character.

As it happened, my close observation of this notable woman did not escape her own observation. She turned to me with a piercing gaze and then pointed and with an imperious and commanding gesture inclined one finger to indicate I should come to her.

I did not at first.

I disliked her for how her daughter had treated Mr. Darcy. I disliked her even more for the way that Georgiana always spoke of her, with nothing of love, and much of fear, and for how Mr. Darcy had once spoken of her as the worst gentlewoman of his acquaintance.

So I did not come to her gestured command, though I knew that I ought as a member of the staff in service.

Lady Catherine's face hardened at seeing my disobedience, but she came up to the windowed alcove where I sat and with a gesture had a footman bring a large chair for her to sit upon. "You. You are the governess of my granddaughter. Miss Bennet — I know of you. You cannot think I am ignorant of your condition, or your antecedents."

"I am certain you do."

"Did you not see me call you?"

"Lady Catherine, I fear I did not understand the meaning of your gesture."

"You did. I am certain you did — a disobedient woman, impudent, imprudent and impertinent — no sense of her proper place. Do not think that I do not know what you have done."

"I am sure you know. But I do not — I confess to having no notion of which of the many things I have done in my life you refer to."

"Refusing my former clergyman. You did him a great favor when you protected him from such a wife. I am certain that should you ever marry, which I have every hope you shall not, you would make your husband miserable and a matter of mockery — you show none of the silence and contriteness I would expect from one in your position—"

"Oh, my apologies," I interrupted her smiling, "but had you a point?"

"Miss Bennet. I am not in the habit of being opposed. I do not brook opposition lightly. You may think yourself safe with Mr. Darcy's favor, but I am still Catherine's grandmother — still her namesake. Still the mother of her mother, and you had best remember that."

"I apologize, I was not brought up to service, and Mr. Darcy has made no effort to adjust my manners to that of a servant."

"Georgiana, foolish girl. She has made a pet of you — or have you made a goose of her? A woman born too high in the gentry should never be given a position as a governess. You expect too much of the world, you still see yourself as having value, as being a person of substance and worth. But you are not — you have no fortune, no connections, except to the man who you spurned, a better man by a thousand times than you — I have had letters written to me of your true character, of your habits and attitudes, to see for myself if the rumors of your unsuitability were true was a part of the purpose in this visit."

"I am sure your time then has already been amply repaired, as I am, as you see, very unsuitable."

"I shall know what to say to Mr. Darcy," she said ominously. "I shall know — but that boy. He never listened. That boy was always stubborn, and even as a lad he would not do what he was told."

"I had been given to understand that much of his unhappiness arose from being too pliable as a lad."

"Is that what he has told you — is it? Has that boy spoken so much of family matters to you? An outsider? A nothing? An imprudent creature merely here to ensure my granddaughter knows her conjugation francais, and can draw and recite the kings? You speak most forcefully for such a creature."

I smiled falsely at her. I did not like Lady Catherine, but I did have a sufficient sense of my own position to not view it as seemly to argue with her, especially in front of the audience in the rest of the room. I trusted Mr. Darcy to protect my interest. I this time stifled my insulting replies.

"Well, Miss Bennet. Well. You are not the sort of woman I would have liked to see in such a position. No, you are not. But one must deal with what one has. One must, whether one likes it or not. You are dismissed, I am done speaking to you. I wish no more conversation with you. Be gone."

She waited for me to move, even though she had approached my customary seat.

We both stared at each other for a while.

Then I shrugged, and I decided to consider myself dismissed from the room entirely — I had no joy in remaining here, amongst those who looked down their noses at me, but who would once have treated me with a pretense of equality. I looked around, smiled every direction, and then went out.

I decided to take refuge from the stuffy air of the drawing room, and the entire house, and I went out to enjoy the shaded veranda overlooking the park.

I remember that day clearly, the wind was soft and cool on my heated cheeks. It was a late afternoon sun, glinting redly through the clouds. Pemberley was built upon a prominence, and I could see for miles in all directions, over the fields separated by the neat lines of hedgerows, with sheep and meadows, and the sprouting wheat everywhere.

There was a sort of deep peace that I felt sitting alone.

The sound of glasses clinking, and conversation — the party had moved to dinner — did not haunt me with a sense of exclusion, but rather those other humans were simply another part of the ambience of that soft evening. Everything was pleasant, all the sounds, smells, and the feel of my body against the wooden bench I sat upon. All pleasant.

A late evening butterfly wandered across my view. A few bees buzzed amongst the flowers grown against the side of the house.

A fountain's burbling water fell tinkling into the basin.

I was at peace.

The clipped sound of horse hooves clopped up the way, and I opened my eyes again — for they had fallen shut as I leaned back to enjoy the moment — and behold, I saw Mr. Darcy, seated upon his tall black horse.

He waved to me, smiling as he rode up the way, and then leapt off, lightly, with that ease which only comes from having spent many years upon horseback and being in the prime of life, healthy, hearty and robust.

I realized I had sat out here, and waited so in the sweet spring air because I hoped to meet him.

His smiling face was lit up by the smiling sun, and he took my hand when I rose to greet him. "Miss Bennet. My dear Miss Bennet — not within, not with the party?"

"No." I smiled back at Mr. Darcy. "I rather had enough of the conversation — enough of that. Was your business concluded well?"

"Tolerably so. Tolerably." He smiled widely at me. "You look like the guardian spirit of the household, come out to wait for the master's return — did you come out in hopes of meeting me?"

I blushed and did not reply, but I suspected that the sparkle of my eyes must reveal the truth to Mr. Darcy.

Though it was impossible anything could ever be between us, I admired him. I loved him.

He smiled back at me. "And Catherine does well as well? Do she and her nurse remain in the drawing room?"

"No, I sent her up for a nap some time ago."

"Ah, good. It shall take you no doubt a month to teach her all she has missed in this time — such a party was necessary, I think. The house needed it."

He was tall and trimly dressed, his long hands flashing white in the dying sun.

"She pursues her French," I insisted to Mr. Darcy, "and her singing still — it has not been only play."

He laughed. "A diligent creature — you both. You both."

There seemed a hesitation, as though Mr. Darcy sensed he ought to return to the house, to his guests, and to his life within. The two of us were separated by that brute fact that I was his dependent — his servant, his employee, and he was the master of all before him.

Right now, right in this place, in the reddish glow, in the warm air suffused with soft cool breezes, the two of us felt as though we were one spirit, one kind. We were equal in each other's eyes, in each other's hearts — but society stood betwixt, or so I thought then.

For a long time we smiled at each other, and then we looked seriously at each other. Of a sudden I shook myself, turning away from his hypnotic gaze. I whispered, I thought too quietly for him to hear, "Oh, I wish…"

Darcy took my hand once more.

My eyes turned up towards his again.

He held them. He smiled at me, and I could not help but smile back at his almost boyish grin. He looked happy. "I wish," he said, "I wish every moment of my life could be like this, in the warm glow of the setting summer sun. With you present — my governess friend, you suffuse such sublime moments with sweetness."

He released my hand, and with a soft, almost mysterious smile began to walk up the marble stairs to the grand entrance to the estate.

"Oh, by the by, Mr. Darcy, did you know that Lady Catherine is here?" I asked before he had gone more than five feet.

Ah! The effect a name could give. It was startling.

He paused.

His jaw clenched together, the muscles straining, veins suddenly standing out. He gripped his hand into such a tight fist that the knuckles turned white. I thought his fingers must hurt. His face was frozen. His breath inheld. He was for a span of some seconds completely still.

Then with a force of will he released the fist. "Lady Catherine! You are sure?"

"The grandmother of your daughter."

"The deuce! She swore — but what has she said? Has she said anything against me? Do the people in the room act strangely? Has she said anything to you?"

Darcy held me by the shoulders. His deep eyes intent on mine, as though he could pierce through them and answer whatever frightened questions he had.

I had never seen him quite like this — but there it was again… I knew that look well, though I had not seen it recently. That look in his eyes, as though he were trapped, beating his heart and his wings against the bars of the cage, screeching with pain inside the trap, and he knew he never could escape.

"Nothing, sir. Nothing. She said nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?— If they were all to turn against me. If all my guests were to come in a body and spit upon me, what would you do, Elizabeth? Would you spit on me as well?"

"No." I shook my head, made pale and surprised by this strange question. "I assure you, Mr. Darcy. None of them mean so much to me as you do — I'd take your side against them all."

"Even your friend Mr. Bingley?"

"Even my friend, Mr. Bingley," I replied seriously, in a tone to match Darcy's own. "I cannot imagine though that he would despise you, no matter what the cause."

"Ha," Darcy replied with a dark and bitter laugh. "Ha! But even he might. Even you — make no promises if you do not know."

"I know. I know, Mr. Darcy, that I never could despise you. That I…" What could I say to him? That I loved him? — no that would… that would be too painful, when we were so separated, and when he could not tell me yes. And when… I could not say that.

"Yes? Yes, Elizabeth, you know that you…"

I made no reply.

The sun had fallen so far that now Darcy's lean face stood in dark shadows.

"Did she say anything to you particularly? Did you speak with Lady Catherine at all?"

I sighed and returned to my senses at this more practical questioning. "She wished to know how I managed with Cathy, and she insulted me at length, and said I was not fit to educate her granddaughter — she intends to raise the subject with you."

"The hell she did — pardon, Miss Bennet. Pardon. She insulted you? That woman? She swore she'd never seek to have a hand in Cathy's education. Swore it when I acknowledged the girl. Swore it. I'll not let her have any say in that. Ignore everything she said."

"I already have, but would you say so much if she gave sensible advice? I am too impertinent."

"Yes — I'd cut off my own nose if Lady Catherine declared it remarkably handsome. She said nothing else?"

"Nothing of note."

Darcy nodded curtly, and with a parting nod he entered the house.

I stared after him for a while. What was I to make of that?

Mr. Darcy hated Lady Catherine. That was nothing strange given how her daughter had treated him. But there was more to this than even that, I was sure of it.

I for a while remained out of doors, not having any wish to rejoin the uncongenial party.

I abided for a time in my solitary way, admiring the constellations high above, the cooling breeze upon my cheeks, and the rustling of the leaves in the trees, and the sound, which pierced my breast, of the gaiety echoing out from within the walls of Pemberley, our dear lost Pemberley.

And then I returned upstairs to my bedroom, and I was soon asleep.