Disclaimer: etc., etc..
A/N: So sorry for the long delay! And by the way, I don't pretend to be well-versed in Civil War-era history, so if anything is slightly inaccurate, please excuse it. Note also that it is now 2 years from when we last left off; fitting, don't you think? ;o) R&R! -- Fay.
The March Girls
Chapter 9
Two years later
Mrs. March was one of many who subscribed to the belief that similarity of character is a firm foundation for a sturdy friendship (and perhaps something more), and believed this played a substantial role in Jane and Charlie's budding relationship. They were both of a kind, generous nature, ever willing to see the best in any given situation or person; but they were not so alike as to make their interaction tediously smooth and harmonious. Jane was steadfast and quietly assertive; Charlie was impulsive and frank.
All in all, Mrs. March was fairly satisfied, believing that if in time Jane should begin to feel something for Charlie, theirs would be a happy, healthy relationship. Emma, too, was quite pleased to see the new light in Jane's eye when she spoke of Charlie. This success – or perceived success – added greatly to her confidence in her matchmaking abilities, and with aplomb she set out to make another such venture.
Elizabeth was surprised to see her sister lapse once again into a quiet, thoughtful mood, and regarded her with no small amount of suspicion, as Emma somehow always managed to direct a knowing smile in her direction at least twice daily. What she was about, or what she was thinking, Elizabeth had no idea; but she determined to be cautious – exceedingly cautious.
It all came to light one day, when Elizabeth came home with Jane from her aunt's to see Emma standing at the door, her posture impatient.
Jane chuckled, for she was in Emma's confidence and knew to some extent what she was planning – and though she did not exactly approve, she thought it to some degree quite amusing. She patted Elizabeth's hand sympathetically, and strode into the house.
Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. "Why are you home so early, Emma?"
"Uncle March allowed me to depart sooner than usual," said Emma casually. She closed the door behind her and walked down the steps. "Now come, Lizzy, we are to go visiting."
"We?" echoed Elizabeth, with a skeptical look, taking a step back reflexively at the gleam in her eye.
"Yes, you and I – Jane shall stay at home and help Annie with dinner," said Emma, taking her hand dragging her sister to the gate.
"Emma," whined Elizabeth.
"It is only proper that we should go over to thank George for lending you the book you wanted for Christmas. See? I took it from your nightstand, and have it here, all ready to return to him," said Emma proudly, producing Undine and Sintram from underneath her cloak.
"But I didn't have a chance to finish it yet!" protested Elizabeth, giving a sigh of resignation. Wherever these notions came from, and however they always managed to end up in that head of her sister's, she would never know.
Emma shrugged. "Does it really matter?"
Elizabeth stared. "I beg your pardon? Matter? Oh, yes, of course," she said sarcastically. "Pray excuse my naïveté; certainly one only borrows a book for the express purpose of returning it later on, and nothing else."
"Exactly," said Emma with a sincere, complacent smile. Elizabeth looked at her oddly, wondering if she was aware of the absurdity of what she had just said.
As they neared the front step of the mansion, they were surprised to see a figure curled up against a tall tree, and Elizabeth impulsively walked over. Emma followed hesitantly.
They saw that the figure was a slight slip of a girl, her head gently bent over something she had cupped in her hand. As they approached, she looked up with a startled expression, dropping whatever she held into her pocket. She was about Elizabeth's age, perhaps younger.
"Good day," said Elizabeth jovially.
"Hello," was the girl's shy response.
"Are you the 'darling niece' Florence is always mentioning?" asked Elizabeth with interest.
The girl coloured. "No." She glanced down at her dress, and did not think it so very poor as to be mistaken for a servant's attire.
"Now, don't question her so, Lizzy," said Emma tactfully. "Let us introduce ourselves first." She smiled at the girl. "I am Emma March, and this is my younger sister Elizabeth – but we call her..." she paused, turning her smile to her sister. "Eliza."
"No, we do not," said Elizabeth, scowling. "I am Lizzy."
"It's very nice to meet you," said the girl bashfully. "My name is Georgiana Darcy."
Shocked, Elizabeth blinked a few times.
"I think I heard George mention you a few times," Emma commented, smirking at her sister's expression. "I wonder why we haven't met you before. You are Mr Darcy's sister, are you not?"
"Yes," said Georgiana.
"Lord, I should not like to be saddled with such a name," said Elizabeth at last, completely forgetting her own rather hefty "Elizabeth Roberta". Emma rolled her eyes, that same name on the tip of her tongue, but at a warning glance from Elizabeth decided to hold it.
"Well, you may call me Georgie – if you would like," said Georgiana tentatively.
"Of course, Georgie," smiled Emma.
"It's what Fitzwilliam calls me," Georgiana smiled back.
At this, Elizabeth chuckled, and Emma could not quite keep her lips from twitching a little, as they always did ever since Mr. Bingley let the name slip.
"It is a very respectable name," Georgiana said with some indignation, perceiving that her new friends did not quite appreciate its worth.
"I am sure it is," said Emma graciously, gracefully taking a seat beside her. Elizabeth plopped down also, leaning casually against the tree.
"So, Georgie," she said. "How did you come to be here? I do wonder that we've never seen you here before."
"I don't usually come here to wait for him. But today Fitzwilliam is taking me to our cousin's, where I am to stay for the summer," replied Georgiana.
"Do you like it there?" inquired Emma.
Georgiana lowered her eyes. "Not particularly," she said.
"Then I don't see why you have to go!" said Elizabeth with vehemence.
"It is still better than staying at our little place – it would be so lonely without Fitzwilliam. I'd hate to stay home alone so much of the time," confided Georgiana wistfully.
"Poor dear," said Emma, looking sympathetic. "If it isn't too far perhaps Lizzy and I could run over and keep you company sometime."
"Oh, could you?" cried Georgiana happily. "I would like it ever so much; I get so miserable sometimes by myself."
"Of course we could, and we will," said Elizabeth warmly.
"Do you think your brother would mind? From what I've heard, he can be rather overbeari– I mean, protective," Emma said, sharing a look with Elizabeth.
"I'd say! Your brother is the worst one in the world, sending you off like that," said Elizabeth indignantly.
"Oh, no, you shouldn't say so!" cried Georgiana. "He couldn't help it! He's the best brother anyone could ever wish for!"
Elizabeth's face was indicative of her wonderment, but Emma giggled, and leaned in close to whisper conspiratorially to Georgiana, "Lizzy has never particularly liked him, but the dislike is mutual."
"But Fitzwilliam never dislikes anybody – well, I suppose he does," said Georgiana contemplatively. "But he never lets anybody know that he dislikes somebody."
Elizabeth, still, was unconvinced.
"Never mind," chuckled Emma. "Lizzy and I must go in now, to return George's book here, you see. Would you like to come with us, Georgie?"
"Do you think Mr. Bingley would mind?"
"Of course not."
The girls stood and made their way to the house, treading the path already worn between the two houses, chatting gaily all the way. It seemed as if they had always been the best of comrades, rather than friends just newly made.
Emma was quiet all through the visit, responding minimally when spoken to, and listening attentively to the conversation between George and Elizabeth. Georgiana stood slightly apart, too shy to say anything, and looked on with diffident admiration.
"How do you get on, Georgie?" George asked, turning to her with a brotherly smile. "Darcy is nearly done for today, and should be with you soon, if Charlie does not persist in blundering through his Latin."
"Thank you, I am well, and I don't mind waiting," said Georgie, returning his smile shyly, and blushing a little.
"Oh, there he is, you needn't wait after all," cried Elizabeth, when she heard the library door click, and Charlie's voice float down the hall.
Both Mr. Darcy and Charlie entered then, and Georgiana immediately flew to her brother's side.
"Fitzwilliam," she said, taking his arm. Elizabeth was surprised to see Darcy's expression soften immediately, and his other hand reach out to pat Georgiana's smaller one.
"Good afternoon, Miss March, Miss Elizabeth," he said, nodding coolly, before turning to his sister. "Well, Georgie, are you ready to go to your cousin's?"
"A little, but I wish I wouldn't need to go so very far," she said softly. "And brother – could Emma and Lizzy visit me, do you think? They were so nice to me today, and I like them very much." Georgiana smiled at her new friends, who returned the favour.
"Of course, if the ladies do not mind," said Darcy fondly. George and Charlie exchanged a bemused glance at his indulgent tone, while Elizabeth was downright taken aback. Georgiana excitedly gave them the address, smiling widely.
"We don't at all!" Elizabeth finally exclaimed in her own impulsive way. "Isn't that lovely, Georgie? Such larks we'll have! Your brother can be nice when he chooses I see," she said with an approving glance at that gentleman, whose lips twitched a bit.
"Very obliged, Miss Elizabeth," he said. Charlie laughed, and agreed heartily, while George shook his head in amusement.
"That is to say, we shan't mind in the least, and thank you for the invitation, Mr. Darcy and Georgie," said Emma more placidly.
"You are very welcome," said Darcy with a kind smile. He then excused himself and Georgiana, and the two took their leave of the company.
Elizabeth, perturbed, stared at their departing figures, wondering at the change in Mr. Darcy's manners – or what she supposed Mr. Darcy's manners to be. The strict, arrogant tutor transformed too easily into the lenient, good-natured brother for her taste, and it expectedly caused some confusion within her.
"Hmm, well," said Emma, clearing her throat, and turning to George. "I recall, now that Lizzy's finished the book you so kindly lent" – here Elizabeth rolled her eyes – "I'm sure Lizzy would like to look through your collection again, for another one."
"You are very welcome to use the library whenever you choose," said George graciously, although he frowned blankly at her.
"Thank you, George," said Elizabeth with an imperceptible groan. "But we haven't time today, and should go home before dinner is served. Shan't we, Emma?"
"Oh, of course," said her sister, though she looked disappointed. Nevertheless she stood, and smiled at all of them. "Goodbye, George, Charlie."
"Goodbye."
And so Emma and Elizabeth both left the house with much to contemplate. For Elizabeth, initial judgments must be re-evaluated, and first impressions discarded for the proof of the present. Mr. Darcy, she decided, was a truly impenetrable character. She was inclined, unsurprisingly, to attribute it all to capriciousness and whimsy; but were there really multiple sides to the man? Was the seeming arrogance and hauteur nothing but reserve and introversion, which fell away at his genuine affection for his sister? Maybe it was the setting that governed his manners, and not himself. She could not fault him for something he could not help. It was all very perplexing, Elizabeth decided.
Emma's meditations, however, were of a more trivial nature. George and Lizzy, how perfect! If only they knew what was good for them...
"How disagreeable Thursdays are," murmured Anne, her face sullen as she stepped into the house. She handed to Hannah the basket of turnips she had bought on sale at the market.
"What's bothering you, sweetie?" said Hannah kindly as she set the basket on the table. Anne sighed, and moved over to sit on the easy chair where she had a clear view of the kitchen.
"I visited the Hummels today," she said slowly.
"Don't you always?" Hannah returned with a benevolent smile.
"Yes – and I spoke to Fred," continued Anne.
"Don't you always?" Hannah repeated.
Anne's cheeks pinked slightly. She coughed. "Yes, well, that is beside the point." Pausing, she said, "We spoke today, yes, but there was something different about him; a sort of stiffness and wistfulness that made me uncomfortable to see. So I asked him, and..." Anne bit her lip and sighed again. "He's enlisting."
Hannah's hands, which had been busy kneading dough, froze.
"Well," she said at last. "He's always meant to, I s'pose." She was trying to make her voice sound light, but Anne knew that Hannah had always had an especial soft spot for the boy, who came over occasionally; something in the honest, kind-hearted boy appealed to her, endeared him to her. Hannah spoiled the boy rather shamefully, plying him with home-cooked treats whenever he visited.
"You know your pa writes that the war can't last on too long now," Hannah said, kneading the dough vigorously. "Sure, we'll all miss him, I reckon – especially his poor aunt, but if 'tis what he really wants to do I ain't stopping him." She winked, and said, "Dusty tonight, ain't it?"
"Oh Hannah," said Anne, her own eyes filling a little. "Yes, it is."
Elizabeth's cheerful whistling as she bustled in with a more sedate Jane in tow was a welcome intrusion. The sombre mood lifted a little, as it always did when Lizzy came.
"Why the sad faces, Annie? Has Snuffles upset the milk again, Hannah?" she laughed, waltzing in. She peeked over Hannah's shoulder. Disappointed that it was only dough, her eyes roamed around and settled upon the cookie jar, which Hannah had filled that day at noon. Brightening, she reached towards it, only to have her hand slapped away by an uncharacteristically sharp Hannah.
"None of that, Miss Lizzy," she scolded.
Pouting, she made her way to sit on the rug beside Anne's chair.
"Don't be idle," said Jane brusquely to both of her younger sisters, donning an apron to help Hannah herself.
"Aren't we all short-tempered today!" cried Elizabeth, looking around her in wonderment. "What's wrong? Jane looks miserable all the way home from Rosefield, Anne looks teary when we do get home, and Hannah doesn't let me have a cookie. I do wonder at you all," she said sulkily.
Hannah softened at that. "Of course you may have a cookie, sweetheart. After dinner." Anne smiled a little, and stood up from her chair.
Elizabeth grumbled, to which Jane sharply told her to quit being lazy and help with the meal, adding, "You are fifteen now, Lizzy, and should stop acting so childish."
"And you are eighteen now, so you could order us all about?" said Elizabeth, her frown still in place.
Jane noted this, and nodded wisely, saying, "Now who's short-tempered?" Elizabeth's features relaxed, and she smiled. "I'm sorry. But you are melancholy today. What is the matter? Anne?"
Sighing again, Anne repeated all she said to Hannah, and saying again that Thursdays were very disagreeable, to which everyone but Elizabeth agreed readily.
"Oh, Annie," said Jane sympathetically. "You're such good friends."
Elizabeth hugged her, getting a bit of flour on her clothes. "Fred's a nice sort. We'll all miss him, but there are such things as letters."
"I suppose," said Anne, not looking particularly consoled. They worked on in silence.
"What about you, Jane?" Elizabeth said after a while. "You were so silent on the way home, and I do wonder what's so troubling."
Jane said, "At the Kings' today, the children – dear me, how big they've grown – but, as I was saying, the children were rather downcast today; and when I asked them why, they said that their nice brother John – "
"Dear Lord, not another love interest?"
"Of course not," snapped Jane. "I'm not so flighty and sentimental as I was two years ago, you know. Do you want to hear or not?" Closing her mouth, Elizabeth beckoned for her sister to continue. "Well, as I was saying, they were a bit low today, because their parents had just told them that their brother John was going away soon, to university." She sighed, and let silence descend, thinking that Elizabeth now understood why she was so melancholy.
Apparently not.
"So?"
Jane shot her a withering look. "So, it occurred to me that he was the same age as Charlie, and Mr. Bingley had mentioned, in passing, that he was to send 'the boy' away this year. He is old enough."
"Oh," said Elizabeth. "You will be sad to see him go?"
"It does seem as if everybody is leaving lately," said Jane, ignoring the rather obtuse question.
"He might not go after all," said Anne, offering hope. "Mr. Bingley never mentioned it to me."
"Well, he is a good friend," Elizabeth noted. "We all had such larks. But then he'll have all manner of delightful things at university. Oh, don't I wish I could go!" She gave a wistful sigh, of a rather different nature than Jane's.
The front door swung open then, admitting a smiling Emma. "Good evening, girls," she said brightly, then sniffing the air. "Cookies, Hannah? It smells delicious."
"Thank ye, dearie," said Hannah. "But like I said to Miss Lizzy here, none until you finish dinner."
Emma laughed. "No, indeed!" She went to sit on a sofa, and regarded her sisters working away in silence, until she said, "So how was everyone's day?"
"Gloomy," declared Elizabeth for all of them, although she didn't particularly look gloomy herself.
"Fred's enlisting," Anne said sadly. Emma pondered this, and said finally, "I feel bad for your loss, Annie, but you know he's been wanting to for a long time."
"Yes," she sighed.
"Poor dear," murmured Emma sympathetically. "Marmee'll be home soon, and perhaps she has a letter from Father," she said after a short silence. She brightened, and bustled up to add a few touches for Mother's welcome home. When the clock struck six, the girls and Hannah were all ready, and set about waiting for dear Mother.
She was rather late that night, when she finally came in half-an-hour later, but that thought hardly occurred to anyone when they saw her pale, drawn face.
"Oh, Marmee, what's the matter?" said Emma anxiously, taking her hat.
Jane noticed that something was in her hand. "What's that?"
Mrs. March handed Jane the slip of paper she had been clutching, and drew a shuddering breath.
"Girls – Hannah – a telegram has arrived today, and I – I must go. At once."