Disclaimer: etc., etc..
A/N: Warning: lots of cheese. R&R, nonetheless, however! ;o) Fay
The March Girls
Chapter 11
In the cold, gray dawn the sisters lit their lamp and read their chapter of Pilgrim's Progress with an earnestness never felt before; for now the shadow of real trouble had come, and the little books were full of help and comfort. As they dressed, they agreed to say goodbye cheerfully and hopefully, and send their mother on her anxious journey without distressing her with tears or complaints.
Everything seemed very strange when they went down – so dim and still outside, so full of light and bustle within. Breakfast at that early hour seemed odd, and even Hannah's familiar face looked unnatural as she flew about in her kitchen with her nightcap on. The big trunk stood ready in the hall, Mother's cloak and bonnet lay on the sofa, and Mother herself sat trying to eat, but looking so pale and worn with sleeplessness and anxiety that the girls found it very hard to keep their resolution.
Nobody talked much, but as the time drew very near, the girls busied themselves over small things to keep from thinking of their mother's impending departure. As Jane folded her shawl and Emma smoothed out the strings of her bonnet, Mrs. March said,
"Children, I leave you to Hannah's care and Mr. Bingley's protection. I have no fears for you, yet I am anxious that you should take this trouble rightly. Don't grieve or fret when I am gone, and think that you can comfort yourselves by being idle and trying to forget. Go on with your work as usual, for work is a blessed solace. Hope and keep busy, and whatever happens, remember that you never can be fatherless."
"Yes, Mother."
"Jane, dear, be prudent, watch over your sisters, consult Hannah, and in any perplexity, go to Mr. Bingley. Write to me often, Emma, and be ready to help and cheer us all. Lizzy, obey and help all you can, be my brave girl, and don't do anything rashly; Annie, comfort yourself with your music, and be faithful to your little home duties."
"We will, Mother! We will!"
The rattle of an approaching carriage made them all start and listen. That was the hard minute, but the girls stood it well: no one cried, and no one ran away or uttered a lamentation. Their hearts were very heavy, however, as they sent loving messages to Father – remembering as they spoke that it might be too late to deliver them.
Mr. Bingley and his grandsons came over to see her off, and Mr. Darcy helped her kindly into the carriage. As he turned, his gaze fell on Elizabeth, who looked rather queer, gripping her bonnet very tightly to her head. Studying her quizzically, he gave an inquiring glance, then smiled at all the girls and assured them that every consideration will be paid to their parents.
Jane thanked him quietly, and watched as he himself stepped in. As the carriage rolled away, they all waved and tried to look cheerful; but as the last flutter of their mother's handkerchief disappeared from view, their smiles fell away.
"I feel if there had been an earthquake," said Elizabeth, as their neighbours went home to breakfast, leaving them to rest and refresh themselves.
"It seems as if half the house is gone," added Jane forlornly.
Anne opened her lips to say something, but could only point to the pile of nicely mended hose which lay on Mother's table, showing that even in her last hurried moments she had thought and worked for them. It was a little thing, but it went straight to their hearts; and, in spite of their brave resolutions, they all broke down and cried bitterly.
Hannah wisely allowed them to relieve their feelings, and when the shower showed signs of clearing up, she came to the rescue, armed with a coffeepot.
"Now, my dear young ladies, remember what your ma said, and don't fret. Come and have a cup of coffee all round, and then let's fall to work, and be a credit to the family."
Coffee was a treat, and Hannah showed great tact in making it that morning. No one could resist her persuasive nods, or the fragrant invitation issuing from the nose of the coffeepot. They drew up to the table, exchanged their handkerchiefs for napkins, and in ten minutes were all right again.
"'Hope and keep busy', that's the motto for us, so let's see who will remember it best. I shall go to the shop as usual. Are you going to the Kings' today, Jane? What about you, Lizzy?" said Emma, as she sipped with returning spirit.
"I shall, but I'd much rather stay home and attend to things here," Jane said, wishing she hadn't made her eyes so red.
"I don't think I'd like to go to Rosefield today," said Elizabeth hesitantly, feeling her cropped head. She felt sure her aunt would censure her act.
"No, I don't suppose Lady Catherine would like for you to go either," said Jane thoughtfully. "She sounded very upset yesterday."
"Poor Lady Catherine!" said Anne. It was the first thing she had said since their mother had left.
"Poor Lady Catherine?" echoed Emma.
"Oh, Annie," Elizabeth said, but she couldn't repress a smile.
"She is Mother's sister," defended Anne.
"Half-sister."
"Even so, as such she must be grieved for her brother-in-law," said Jane softly. "So we mustn't blame her for her unkind words yesterday, you must think how worried she must be for Father."
Emma laughed and said, "'Til I have your disposition, your goodness, I never can think of her in such a light."
"Yes, angels, the both of you! Trust you to make Lady Catherine seem like anything less than an ogress," added Elizabeth.
The girls couldn't help laughing, and felt better for it. Jane and Emma soon stood up to leave, taking their turnovers from Hannah. Anne ran to the window as they left, and curious, Elizabeth followed.
"You remember how Marmee always sends them off from here," said Anne, nodding at their sisters as Elizabeth joined her.
"How thoughtful you are to remember that," Elizabeth said with a hug, as they waved to the two figures going down the lane to their daily tasks. They had turned, and looked gratefully back at them.
"I think I shall visit Georgiana today, unless I am needed at home," said Elizabeth, after Jane and Emma had disappeared from view.
"I don't think you would be," replied Anne.
So after her share of the chores had been done, and lunch eaten, Elizabeth set out with her bonnet securely in place and Georgie's address in hand.
"Hello," said Elizabeth with a friendly smile as a thin, pale woman opened the door.
"And who might you be?" she asked, fixing her with a sharp, scrutinizing gaze.
"I'm a friend of Georgie's," Elizabeth told her. "Are you her cousin?"
The woman nodded stiffly. "My husband is – "
"Lizzy!" cried Georgie, miraculously appearing beside her rigid cousin. "I'm so glad you came!"
"Georgiana," began the woman.
"Oh! Lizzy, this is my cousin, erm, Mrs. Fitzwilliam, and this is my friend Lizzy March," said Georgie hastily. "May I bring her to my room, ma'am?"
"Have you – "
"Yes, yes, every one of them," said Georgiana eagerly.
"You may," said Mrs. Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth was amazed to see her features soften into a rather handsome face. Flashing her a smile, Elizabeth let herself be led into the house and up the stairs by an enthusiastic Georgiana.
The room was small, but everything about it was comfortable. At Georgiana's insistence, she sat on the most lavishly cushioned chair in the room. She saw that several pictures hung on the wall, and a small but tasteful collection of books were propped on a suspended shelf. Sunlight poured cheerfully through the quaint window beside her, lighting up the room pleasantly.
"I was sorry to hear about your father," said Georgiana, suddenly shy as she sat on the rug in front of her.
"Thank you, Georgie. Your brother was very kind about it too; I'm terribly sorry that this sad business brought him away from you," Elizabeth replied gravely.
"I'm sure he is very happy to help, and I shan't complain," Georgie reassured her.
They sat in silence for a while, but it was not an uncomfortable one. After a while, Georgiana spoke up again.
"That is a very pretty bonnet, Lizzy, but you forgot to take it off – would you like me to put it aside for you?"
"Oh!" Elizabeth coloured. "Um..." She sighed, and loosened the strings before taking it off herself. Georgie's eyes widened.
As her friend related her tale, admiration replaced shock in the young girl's eyes, and she stated frankly, "What a lovely thing to do! And you don't look any less pretty at all, Lizzy, at least I don't think so."
"Thank you, Georgie," said Elizabeth softly.
"That is a very pretty pin, however," commented Georgie, as a pleased blush stole up into her cheeks.
Elizabeth followed her gaze, and fingered the broach clasped to her collar, a gift from Lady Catherine. At first she had rebelled against the ornate pendant, with its large golden stone and floral setting; but her aunt's words as she gave it to her had turned her in favour of the present.
"Elizabeth," Lady Catherine had said solemnly. ""My gift to you – although heaven knows I do not really need to, with all I have already given you – is this broach. It is not merely a valuable ornament, but a family jewel, and I hope you will treasure it in your turn. Happy birthday, dear."
Elizabeth had not really cared for the speech, but the single 'dear' at its end had been spoken with such softness and affection that the memory of it made her ashamed of all the ungenerous words she had spoken against the lady. Elizabeth resolved to do right by her aunt then and there, and though the resolution was somewhat guided by her characteristic impulse, there was also that of fondness in it.
"Lizzy?" Georgiana's timid voice broke through her preoccupation. Georgie wondered if she had somehow given offense, to make her friend so silent.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry! I was only – thinking," said Elizabeth. She glanced down at her broach. "Yes, it is a handsome thing, but rather large. My aunt – Lady Catherine – gave it to me on my birthday."
"Lady Catherine?" Georgie said with an inquiring eye.
"Oh yes, she would keep that title," Elizabeth laughed. "You see her mother was my mother's mother – dear me, how confusing that does sound, to be sure! – and Grandmother was an English lady who married some earl or another in England. My mother was born after she came to America with my aunt – this was all after Grandfather died and Grandmother married a second time; so her father is not our aunt's." She glanced at Georgie. "Lady Catherine is 'Lady' Catherine, and never would suffer to be called anything else."
"How puzzle – er – interesting that is!" said Georgie, and they both laughed.
The afternoon flew by as the two girls talked indiscriminately of a variety of subjects, and by the time Elizabeth stood up to leave she felt as if she had known Georgie all her life.
With a hug, the two girls parted at the door, and Elizabeth promised to visit again soon.
It was nearly dinnertime, but Elizabeth stuck fast to her decision and directed her steps in the direction of Rosefield. She did not know what she would say when she arrived; she only felt instinctively that it was something she had to do.
When she was shown into the parlour, Lady Catherine was there to greet her. Her icy expression rather made Elizabeth question the wisdom of coming.
"How do you explain your absence today, Eliza?" asked her aunt coldly. "Do you have any idea of the needless anxiety you have caused me? I am most seriously displeased. And what in heaven's name happened to your hair? Can you never rid yourself of your queer unladylike ways? What induced you to abandon your studies for a day of play?"
Elizabeth could have listened to this tirade with perfect composure, had it not been for that last sentence – nobody takes well to being unjustly accused, and Lizzy was no exception. She flushed with anger, shot her aunt a resentful glare, turned, and marched furiously to the door.
"Elizabeth! Young lady, come back here at once," commanded Lady Catherine, rapping her cane against the floor for emphasis. "Why do you persist in being so contrary? Do you know how much I have worried?"
"I don't see how you even care!"
"I – not care?" her aunt cried.
"I should say not!" said Elizabeth heatedly. "To deliver such a spiteful letter when Mother was worried sick for Papa! You never can sympathise, can you? I don't believe you've got any heart!"
Silence. Lady Catherine sat down on a chair, and her expression crumpled, so that she seemed ten years older all of a sudden. "I wish I haven't," she finally said, her voice quivering slightly.
"Oh!" said her niece, much troubled, for she had never seen this side of her imperious aunt before. "Please, I didn't mean it! You did help, by sending the money, and I shouldn't be so horrid when you've helped so much more than I ever can," and Elizabeth felt the shorn ends of her hair with a mournful aspect.
"What is all my wealth to me, if my nearest relations do not care what becomes of me? I only ever wanted to assist your family," said Lady Catherine sadly.
Elizabeth went to sit beside her pensively, and said in a quiet tone, "I don't want to be nasty and say it's your own fault – but there is some truth in that! You shut us out, even just now when you said your family. If you'd only consider us your own, if you'd only let us in, despite our being so very poor and a discredit to you..." she trailed off.
When Lady Catherine did not respond, Elizabeth sighed and stood up. At the door she stopped, and said sadly, "Goodbye, Lady Catherine."
She turned, and was about to leave, when her aunt's voice arrested her.
"Elizabeth, please – please call me – Aunt Catherine, if you will." There was a note of wistfulness, and peculiar emotion in her tone.
With a bright smile, and holding back a few happy tears, Elizabeth launched herself into the arms of the aunt who was willing to acknowledge her and hers at last.