"Urgent business of an unavoidable nature. That's what the note said — he specified that I was to apologize to Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet, and you, Mrs. Gardiner, for the nature of this business making it impossible to attend."
Elizabeth gnawed on the inside of her cheek and crossed her arms. She looked out the window.
"I am confident that it is a real matter of business," Bingley added. He stepped over to Elizabeth and spoke to her more privately in a quiet tone. "He had been most eager for this dinner when we rode home, and we'd made plans to fence and go to our club that evening — he broke those plans as well, with a notice of two hours. Exceedingly unlike Darcy, unless the matter is an issue of real importance."
Elizabeth sighed. "I know enough of his character to know."
She knew she was clearly more transparent than she wished to be in front of Darcy's friend. The simple fact that he felt a need to comfort her, and that he had addressed Darcy's message apologizing for his inability to attend the planned dinner chiefly to her, showed that he either had private information — possible — or that her deep disappointment at hearing Darcy was not to be there was obvious.
At least Mr. Darcy had also sent a note to them directly apologizing.
She'd feel a dreadful fool if he had simply decided he did not care enough to show up after she had spent hours scheming over hair, ribbons, flowers, rouge and jewelry, followed by carefully adjusting her favorite silk dress to fit perfectly.
Jane said, "I do hope that his business is a matter of some happy opportunity that he cannot risk losing."
"I would be exceedingly surprised if that is the case," Mr. Gardiner said. "When one is forced to drop every expectation of pleasure, it usually is over a matter that is unpleasant."
"At least I am here." Bingley grinned at them all widely. "And I am determined to make myself twice as friendly to make up for the missing party. Though I only need to be slightly more voluble than ordinary to make up for Darcy's absence." He then said to Mr. Gardiner, "I should apologize in advance for my friend, who I am sure you will meet soon. He tends to be quiet in new company."
"He had not seemed taciturn when we met," Mrs. Gardiner said. "A sensible and good-natured gentleman."
"That's exactly my view as well!" exclaimed Elizabeth.
"Then as I am outvoted, despite my many years of acquaintance with Mr. Darcy," Bingley replied cheerfully, "I now confess him to be the chattiest gentleman alive."
Everyone laughed and Jane rosily pushed Bingley, saying with a happy smile, "You know that is not what they meant."
The dinner with Bingley proved to be a simple success, though perhaps there had been never any doubt of that.
Charles Bingley was in fact a friendly man, a man known for his ability to enjoy the company of anyone, to praise them, to become in sympathy with them, and to authentically find pleasure in their company. That he enjoyed Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner's company enormously was simply a matter of course. Further he quickly made himself a favorite with the children as well when they were brought out, though Georgiana refused to come down, pleading her indisposition.
Following that evening Bingley became a regular visitor at the Gardiner household, calling on them at least every second morning, and he and Jane soon became more inseparable and happier together than ever before.
As for Elizabeth, it was impossible for Elizabeth to not on occasion feel a little resentment towards Georgiana.
If only she had known that Mr. Darcy would not return the next day!
Nor the day following, nor the day after.
And it had been Georgiana's indisposition that had broken up Darcy's call.
It was impossible to actually be annoyed with Georgiana about a matter wholly beyond her control — she was too earnest, too sweet, too shy… too much an odd mix of determination, occasional flashes of capability, and a sort of appealing helplessness.
She was only sixteen. Younger than Kitty.
And she was too… familiar.
Elizabeth watched her closely over the course of the next week. Her initial nausea had been passing, and in the end, they did not even call for the apothecary. Neither of them said anything to her yet, but from the glances she shared with Mrs. Gardiner, it was clear that both had the same suspicion.
Over the next few days, Georgiana barely ate breakfast, and she several times emptied her stomach shortly after. But her appetite was in fact healthy otherwise, except when Mr. Bingley came to call, when she invariably was ill for the first several calls, until at Elizabeth's inquiry she confessed to having an acquaintanceship with him, and a fear of resultant discovery if he saw her. After which they allowed her to simply avoid being present as a matter of course.
In the morning after breakfast, ten days after Mr. Darcy and Bingley first called, Elizabeth followed her aunt when she left the drawing room to look in at the pantry, to ensure there were supplies for a dinner they would hold that evening.
Once they had some privacy from the servants — though Elizabeth thought this was likely pointless, since the servants usually knew everything that was of particular interest in a house — Elizabeth told her aunt, "I suspect Georgiana is in a delicate condition."
Her aunt picked through the preserves in the panty without pausing. "That is my guess as well. I never liked that euphemism. A 'delicate condition'. Say it in the direct and unvarnished way: With child."
"Poor girl, poor girl," Elizabeth said. "She must hate this situation. The child of such a husband, a man who means to kill her. She will — do you think she knows herself?"
"I had at first assumed that she did," Mrs. Gardiner said calmly, "and wished to hide it from us. Perhaps out of fear that we would not keep her once we knew, or perhaps simply due to embarrassment. But now I rather suspect the poor girl is ignorant of some of the most essential signs."
"I know," Elizabeth said. "I hinted towards the matter with her, and she seemed wholly perplexed by the continued nature of her morning nausea."
"Her mother died when she was still young, and then her father. In any case I understand it is the practice in some of the wealthiest families to raise their daughters in ignorance of even the most basic facts."
"Surely that would not work — she grew up in the countryside. Every girl will see a dog taking a bitch, or a stallion mounting a mare. Surely she knows—"
"You would find it surprising, Lizzy, what it is possible for a person not to understand if they are not given the proper clues to it. And in any case, knowing the basic mechanics of the conjugal act does not mean that one knows the signs to look for."
Elizabeth nodded slowly. "It is silly how in modern books, both novels and science, it is always spoken of with such circumlocutions."
Georgiana was a girl who seemed to have lived life first in a fine seminary, and otherwise she had gained her information of the world more through books than anything else. She'd told Elizabeth that she had never had a close friend before — it was particularly touching that she considered Elizabeth — already! — a close friend.
That sort of naïve loyalty and belief in Elizabeth called forth a need to be worthy of this damaged young girl's willingness to trust her. Besides, Georgiana was in fact a splendid and exquisite young woman, who Elizabeth was delighted more and more to know.
And when she had been cajoled to play piano, her play was so delightfully powerful that Elizabeth was certain that even Mr. Darcy could not have heard a finer performer.
"Well," Mrs. Gardiner said after she'd satisfied herself as to the current state of their reserves in the pantry. "There is no time like the present."
"'Twere done at all, tis best it 'twere done quickly," Elizabeth replied.
"Heavens, Lizzy. No! Not Macbeth. We are not going to assassinate a king."
As they climbed the stairs, Elizabeth said, "I rather feel as though we were."
"Not so dour. Like as not she will be happy."
"How could that be." Elizabeth was aware of that fear which even those girls who would never allow a dalliance to move outside of its proper bounds could understand: That of awaiting a child without a husband. The associated ruin of reputation, future, and life.
This was the threat that kept girls from becoming too familiar with those swains who sung sweetly to them. Marriage. Always marriage. The only secure hope. "But she hates her husband and has run from him."
"The child will be legitimate," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "That counts for a great deal, and children are a sweet thing — your pet has shown every sign of particular fondness for them."
Elizabeth considered this doubtful, but there was no virtue in arguing with her aunt upon the point. They reached the room that now had been set aside to serve as a schoolroom. Georgiana smiled at them brightly when they entered. She was reading to Beth from one of the books they'd purchased on their excursion to Paternoster Row, and making her pupil carefully sound out the words as she went.
However, their expressions made Georgiana's grin fade, and she cried out, "Lord! Something has happened. What is it?"
Mrs. Gardiner smiled sweetly. "Nothing so bad or so surprising. Nothing to worry about — Beth, would you go down to the drawing room to help Jane entertain your brothers?"
"But Mama!"
Mrs. Gardiner gave Beth one of those intense stares that Elizabeth intended to shamelessly copy and practice when she had her own children.
Beth only lasted a dozen heartbeats before she sighed and slumped into a defeated posture. "Always when it is interesting, I'm sent away." Then she bounded from the room in a manner that managed to simultaneously display the deepest depths of melancholy, and an irrepressible cheerfulness.
The fair-haired girl waved at them when she left and Mrs. Gardiner as a precaution opened the door a half minute after to ensure that she had not remained on the other side, her ear against the door.
Following this, Mrs. Gardiner said, "Do sit down, Georgiana."
With an unsettled air, the girl obeyed the command and settled on one of the chairs carved from oak that had been pulled up from the breakfast room. She went pale. "No, it is some terrible news."
"That is a matter for you to determine," Mrs. Gardiner replied. "We believe that you are with child."
"With child?" Georgiana echoed faintly. "But…" She frowned. "That cannot be likely. I rather suspect I am cursed to be barren — after all I have been married six months, and there have been no signs of a child."
"Dear," Mrs. Gardiner said softly, "six months is no great length of time, not at all, and you now are showing the signs."
"What signs? — It has only been…" Georgiana frowned, tapping her finger. "I cannot rightly remember how long since my…" She flushed bright red and looked down. "My…"
"Your periodic yet regular attacks?" Elizabeth offered. "The ones that are particularly unpleasant."
"Oh, they are not so bad!" Georgiana replied. "I do not think so."
Mrs. Gardiner laughed. "Fortunate girl. Yes, your menses. You do not recall for sure the last time?"
"I do, I think… it was either six weeks ago, or eight… oh."
"Yes, and further you have been regularly sick each morning, but recovered shortly after."
"Oh, that." Georgiana flushed red. "I hoped you had not noticed. I've not made to much of a mess, have I? — I do not think it is contagious, but rather a nervous habit. I so seldom lose myself in such a way. But I do not worry since—" Her eyes suddenly widened. "That is a sign of being in a delicate condition?"
The two women nodded at her seriously.
"But that was not in the book which I read—" She flushed red. "It only mentioned the courses ending, and of course that the… delicate intimacies…"
It was rather gooselike and adorable to watch Georgiana's ears turn beet red. She did not manage to choke out any more words.
"Why," Mrs. Gardiner said, "do you think it is called a delicate condition? — it is because one's stomach becomes delicate."
Elizabeth laughed, and though Georgiana did not, her eyes began to clear.
"But no," Georgiana still insisted. "After so much time? To be with child now. No, I… are you sure?"
"You need not worry that we will not keep you here," Mrs. Gardiner said. "You are a respectable wife, and even if you were not I am not so obsessed with respectability and fears of contamination of my daughter's mind that I would be so unchristian as to throw out a person of good heart in need of help."
"The sickness in the morning, truly?" She said, "Truly, it is a sign I am with child?"
"It is. We might have a physician, or a midwife examine you, but they cannot say for certain until later, not until the child quickens. But the signs suggest you are with child."
And to Elizabeth's surprise, a huge smile slowly spread wide across Georgiana's face. "Truly, truly?" she asked, placing her hands over her belly. "Truly?"
Georgiana had never seemed younger to Elizabeth than at this moment now where they were telling her that she was fully a woman in this most important of ways.
Mrs. Gardiner smiled widely at the girl. "You must keep in mind that there are many dangers — not just to you. Often, especially so early, the babe might slip and miscarry, and even later there are dangers."
"I know." Tears were shining in Georgiana's glistening eyes. "I know. But I will cling to that hope — no it is a likelihood, often as babes do miscarry, or die, they live more often. I'll cling to my hope. I've always wanted a babe, someone who I could love, like… like…" Georgiana pressed her hand against her mouth, and she began to sob. "Like I never was."
A second joyous event which occurred that morning, while Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner spoke with Georgiana, Mr. Bingley called.
Upon finding that Jane's honor was solely guarded by Beth and the toddling babe — as the twins had absconded from their five-year-old duty of protecting the honor of the women of the house to play marbles in the kitchen — Bingley seized this opportunity, and he used the grinning young girl as a prop as he proposed to Jane.
The happiness of both parties was great once she had accepted, and Bingley was kept for dinner that evening.
Elizabeth felt decidedly odd though at how Georgiana stayed away from the main rooms for the whole day due to Bingley's presence. It was not fair.
Elizabeth went to sleep that night full of thoughts about the growth of a new life inside the body of her friend. And full of thoughts of Jane and Bingley's engagement.
She wondered about the marital intimacies they would share — would she ever have an opportunity to experience them herself with a gentleman who she loved… with Mr. Darcy.
And how long would it be before Jane also was in a delicate condition?. How precisely would Mrs. Gardiner's promise that they would keep Georgiana and support her through the birth of the child work? She was sure that Mrs. Gardiner already had or would soon talk over the matter with Mr. Gardiner.
The next morning Elizabeth was shocked shortly after she left the Gardiners' house to take her morning walk. She'd only gone a few blocks south towards the bridge when a voice called out her name: "Elizabeth!"
It was Mr. Darcy.
Her heart leapt to her throat.
He looked haggard — he'd looked thinner, and somewhat subdued when he'd called ten days ago, but now… it was as though he'd barely slept for the whole time. His chin was unshaven, there were deep purple bruises under his eyes, an almost oily look to his hair, and something in his motions gave her a general impression of total fatigue.
But as soon as he approached her, he smiled.