Prompt: Missing scenes
TO ADMIRE A GAINSBOROUGH PART 5
When the Gardiners and Elizabeth spoke about going to Pemberley the next morning, Mr. Gardiner wanted to go to the village first.
"Mr. Howard said the church is open for morning prayers. I think we could all use some spiritual guidance at this point in our lives."
The church was small but neat, and Mrs. Gardiner pointed out some details that she thought had been changed in the recent renovations. They spent some time listening to Mr. Howard reciting prayers, and when he asked for an open heart to understand his fellow men and the wisdom make good decisions Elizabeth could full-heartedly join him in that request.
The new altarpiece was a colourful painting of the apostles feeding a crowd, and Elizabeth liked the detail. She felt she could tell which people were the hungriest. The happiest person in the painting was a young child in the foreground who was taking care of his little siblings, feeding them instead of eating himself.
After the few faithful attending joined Mr. Howard for an off key hymn they all left the church.
"I liked the renovations," Mrs. Gardiner said. "There is more light now, and the floor was less uneven than I remember."
"The new altarpiece was beautiful," Elizabeth said.
"Yes, and I am happy to see that your boy Darcy had not painted you in it," Mr. Gardiner said. "Or if he did, at least he was good enough to give you a veil. I was half worried that we would find your face as Maria Magdalena, or Esther."
"Mrs. Howard wrote to me about the altarpiece last year," Mrs. Gardiner said. "I do not think he had even met Elizabeth before it was finished."
"He is not my boy Darcy," Elizabeth said.
"Is he not?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.
"Just say the word and I think he will be," Mr. Gardiner said. "I am just a little confused about what you want."
"I want to see the rest of the sketches."
In the end, Mr. Gardiner allowed Mr. Darcy to have a private tête-à-tête with Elizabeth in his study. Mr. Darcy had arranged reasons for most of his servants to be somewhere else, so no one would see Elizabeth enter. The Gardiners could wait in the library.
"I think you will be able to spend an agreeable hour there. And once we are done we can rejoin your company through the connecting doors, and no one should be able to create any scandal out of it."
"I am only agreeing on the understanding that if this plan fails and there is unpleasant gossip, you both must do the right thing."
"Very well," Mr. Darcy said. "I suppose that doing the right thing would mean I get to do what I am looking to achieve anyway so you can be assured of my cooperation. But I would wish for a more conventional resolution so let us strive for discretion."
"And you, sir, will do nothing to cause gossip," Mr. Gardiner said sternly. "Even if it would mean you get your way."
"Of course not!" Mr. Darcy was so scandalized it soothed Mr. Gardiner's fears somewhat.
"Elizabeth? I need your cooperation too," Mr. Gardiner demanded.
"Certainly, but I do not think there will be anything to worry about," Elizabeth said, so nonchalantly that the Gardiners began to suspect that the outcome of marrying Mr. Darcy did not seem as disagreeable to her as it might have been the previous morning.
The library had not been a part of the housekeeper's tour so the Gardiners were pleasantly surprised to find themselves in a veritable treasure vault of books.
"I may arrange for a scandal myself," Mrs. Gardiner said. "Just to get visiting rights here."
"Not necessary in the slightest," said Mr. Darcy. "I can grant you the visiting rights, regardless of the outcome of our interview. You may feel free to join my books, any time you are in the area."
"This is our first time in ten years," Mr. Gardiner pointed out.
"I have a good library in London too," Mr. Darcy said, which definitely counted in his favour.
When Elizabeth finally sat down at Mr. Darcy's desk she questioned him once more about his insistence on privacy.
"Why did you think it so necessary that we be alone for this?" Elizabeth asked.
"To protect the innocent," he said. "Some of the sketches reveal a story that I would rather not make public knowledge."
"It will go no further from me," she promised. "Is that all?"
"Supposing you are upset with me after you have viewed the last books, you can yell at me more freely if we are alone."
"All right," Elizabeth said. "I shall prepare myself by searching the room for things to throw at you."
"Anything but the paperweight," Mr. Darcy said. "That thing breaks into very tiny, very sharp shards. My father used to have a similar one."
"I make no promises."
Elizabeth's exploration into Mr. Darcy's life continued with a sketchbook which started innocuously enough. There were summery landscapes in Derbyshire, tenants building something, and a very pretty black foal.
"I have high hopes for that horse," she said.
He laughed and said he felt the same way. "His name is Raven."
Then there was a hastily drawn crude map in which he had marked a few alternative routes to Ramsgate.
"I received a concerning letter from a servant in my employ, and wanted to travel very quickly," he explained.
On the next page, Elizabeth recognized Mr. Wickham. He was walking on the seaside, trying to make himself agreeable to an unidentified female who was shown from behind, wearing a bonnet. He was his usual handsome self, but she thought that she could detect something insincere about his expression. "Hang your brother! We could live very comfortably on your dowry," the caption said.
"I assume that is not Mary King," she said. "I do not think she has a brother."
"No," he said. "No, it is not Mary King."
He did not divulge the lady's identity but he did not have to. The next pages contained several portraits of Georgiana Darcy in some distress.
"I am sure the Gardiners can be discreet but they do not know my sister and I did not wish to share sensational stories about her with strangers. I hope you understand."
"I do," she said. She waited for a beat, but he said nothing further.
"But I do not know your sister either," she finally pointed out.
"No, but I know you," he said. "We are not strangers."
She had not previously considered it a compliment but right now, with how he looked at her, she found herself rather happy to have gained not-stranger status in his eyes.
"Perhaps we can be more than that," she said boldly. "We could be friends."
"Perhaps," he said. "But you had better look through the rest of the books first before committing to anything. I do not want us to become friends, only to start dodging paperweights the next moment."
"Does that happen to you often?"
"Never," he said. "But I have never shown my sketchbooks to anyone else before."
A woman was pictured walking away from a house, carrying her bags. Elizabeth thought she remembered her face from the previous day's session. "Was she the hiring mistake?"
"My sister's former companion turned out to be Mr. Wickham's minion. She told Georgiana that true love was worth fighting for and that I might be happy if she eloped for it would save me the trouble of attending the wedding."
"Really?"
"Really," he said. "It is true I do not usually love weddings. But if my sister ever marries a scoundrel I want to be there so I can jump up and object."
Elizabeth recognized Colonel Fitzwilliam from her brief acquaintance with him but the man was wearing an expression of rage that was unfamiliar to her.
"He is my sister's other guardian," Mr. Darcy explained. "And not fond of Mr. Wickham."
One page was divided in four squares, and each square contained a quick, angrily drawn sketch of Mr. Wickham dying in messy ways.
"If that man is ever found shot, stabbed, sliced into small pieces or stoned to death, my cousin and I would be the first suspects," Mr. Darcy said.
"This book is practically a confession," Elizabeth said. "Maybe you had better burn it. Or tear some pages out."
"I have never torn a page out of a sketchbook," Mr. Darcy said, seemingly shocked by the thought. "It would quite ruin the rest of it."
"You like to keep everything in order?"
Elizabeth did not know where he usually stored the sketchbooks, but the previous day, it had been quite easy for him to produce them all. He had not had to search for a single one, and when she wanted to look at them chronologically he had not needed to check and arrange them, he had simply given them to her in perfect order.
"I use loose leaf paper for things that I might need to dispose of," he said. "If there are torn edges in the middle of a book the way the other pages fall feels wrong."
"I know how that feels," she said. "I had a diary once, when I was a child. I cut a page out but then another page became loose, and I never wrote in that diary again."
There was a picture of Georgiana Darcy with an older couple. Elizabeth thought the lady must be the Colonel's mother, and the man bore some resemblance to Lady Catherine De Bourgh. Miss Darcy looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.
"My uncle and aunt," Mr. Darcy said. "She is very kind but my uncle - well, you are familiar with his sister."
"Say no more," Elizabeth replied. "Maria Lucas is still terrified of folding her gowns wrong and ruining them. She says Lady Catherine gave her very particular advice on how trunks are to be packed."
"My uncle is the same," Mr. Darcy said. "Packing trunks would be quite below his dignity. But he must always know best about everything else."
"Not the most comforting confidante for a young girl then?"
"Probably not," Mr. Darcy said. "But my aunt was the best option for a chaperon I could produce on short notice. "
Then there were seven pictures of women of varying ages.
"I was interviewing companions," he explained. "Which one do you think I should have hired?"
"How should I know? I have never met them and do not know the first thing about them," she exclaimed incredulously.
"Just look," he said. "Please."
Elizabeth did as she was bid and took her time looking at the alternatives. Eventually she ruled one out because she looked very strict and humourless, and another because she appeared too timid to protect anyone. She had no real idea why she did not like the third one, it was just a vague feeling of discomfort. There was something about the fourth that struck her as untrustworthy but she could not have put the reason into words either. The remaining three all seemed very respectable, and it was more difficult to pick between them. But finally she made her choice.
"Number six," she said. "The one with the lovely pendant."
"Why did you choose number six?"
"It was your best sketch?" She shrugged.
"It is not a great work of art, objectively speaking," he said. "I made her ears too high and I do not think the shape of the face is quite right either. Why did you choose her?"
"I like her taste in accessories."
"That is not it," he said. "Why did you pick her?"
"You are a strange one," she said. "Very oddly insisting that I must have a reason for choices that I make."
"You do, even if you do not know it," he said.
She stared at the sketch for a moment longer. "She looks kind but prudent and practical. She has lived through some hard times, and it has taught her to be compassionate. She has enough spine to be strict when required but has not completely forgotten how to smile."
Mr. Darcy exhaled loudly, as if he had been holding his breath. "That is Mrs. Annesley," he said. "You will learn to know her, if…"
"If she forgives you for the ears?"
"You cannot tell her I got her ears wrong," he said. "I forbid it."
"Ah, we are not even engaged and already you are telling me what to do," she said.
"No doubt I am going to be quite a tyrannical husband," he said. His intonation sounded tentative, like a question.
"Yes, you are," she said. "Quite horrendous, in all likelihood."
She looked at Mrs. Annesley and his other candidates again. "So we picked the same one? What are the odds?"
"They do say great minds think alike," he offered. "And I dare say dull ones may converge every once in a while too."
"Perhaps it is just that you liked her the best so you drew her in the most flattering way."
"Perhaps," he said. "But I think we have some tastes in common."
"Of course," she said. "If you liked things that I do not like, then you would be wrong, and we could not have that."
Then there was a diagram of a very odd scale, with letters G and B in the two cups. The scale was attached to a several pulleys that were marked "Mrs. A", "B's Ss", and "R", and appeared to be dragging the scale in different directions.
She looked at him questioningly.
"I was trying to decide whether I should stay with my sister or go to Netherfield with Bingley," he explained.
"It was a matter requiring complex engineering?"
"Yes," he said. "One should have a machine for these things."
"The human brain is apt to get things wrong," she agreed.
"I would much rather have stayed with Georgiana than Bingley's sisters. But Mrs. Annesley and my cousin thought that my dark mood was not helping her cheer up at the time."
"So you decided to inflict your dark mood upon us in Hertfordshire," Elizabeth said dryly.
He smiled sheepishly. "Yes, well, I suppose I did."
There were sketches of Netherfield Park, and a portrait of Mr. Bingley, pictured looking like an enthusiastic child playing with his miniature dollhouse.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst had been portrayed as a couple, languid and bored, gazing decidedly away from each other.
"That is the kind of a marriage that I do not want," he said.
She found herself agreeing. Had she wanted that kind of a marriage she could have married Mr. Collins. But aloud she said just, "Fair."
Then there was a sketch of Miss Bingley that looked a bit like a wanted sign.
"Do you know this woman? Last seen wearing an ostrich," she said. "If you see her, do not approach."
"Beware, she may try to mend your pen," he said.
"How on earth did Mr. Bingley become so nice?"
Mr. Darcy had no explanation to give, so she moved on and flipped through more pages.
"Oh, is that Sir William Lucas?"
Sir William had been the first Meryton resident to greet and welcome Mr. Bingley and his party. There were several small sketches of him on the same page, affable but slightly vapid. One caption said, "The last time I was at St James…" and another, "My daughters would marry any stick in the breeze if he had an income."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"That was not a verbatim quote," Mr. Darcy said. "It was more of a general impression he gave."
"I would say that it was pretty harsh of you," Elizabeth said. "But then again, he was ecstatic when Charlotte married Mr. Collins."
"He framed things in such a way that he made it impossible for Bingley not to dance the first with his eldest daughter at the assembly."
Based on the sketchbook, Mr. Darcy had thrown himself into the Netherfield affairs with the same intensity as Pemberley or Rosings. There were maps and diagrams, and sketches of fences, barns, and tenant cottages. He had had several plans for improvements, and Elizabeth recognized a few things that Mr. Bingley had been talking about.
"So it was you putting all these ideas in my brother's mind."
He shrugged. "Bingley asked me to come and help him get started. So that is what I did. I am sure he could have come up with these ideas on his own."
"But he did not."
"He could have. Some day." He looked uncomfortable. "I would have liked more time with my father so he could teach me these things, and Bingley did not even grow up on an estate."
"Then I must take the liberty of thanking you on his behalf."
"You are welcome," he said. "Or should I say he is welcome?"
"I do not mind either way."
"In any case, it got me out of the house," he said. "It gave Miss Bingley a respite from coming up with new things to admire about me."
There was the vicar, smiling beatifically. "Regarding the parish needs, we have always been able to count on the extremely generous donations from the Netherfield residents," the caption said. The second line said, "I am not begging, this is merely information that you need to fund us accordingly."
Elizabeth recognized Mr. Goulding in the next sketch. "So nice to meet you," he was quoted as saying, "but your side of the fencing needs urgent repairs!" In parentheses, Mr. Darcy had written, "Next time: Demand favours faster! Waste no time in stupid pleasantries!"
"He is a rather blunt character," Elizabeth said.
"I quite liked him," Mr. Darcy said. "It was no mystery what he wanted from us."
"Did he happen to mention that he thinks your fence is too far on his side?"
"Did he ever," Mr. Darcy said. "He spoke about the fence for a full quarter of an hour."
"I am disappointed in him," Elizabeth said. "I thought he could hold forth much longer than that."
"Bingley was very popular with the gentlemen of Meryton those days," he said. "There was a Mr. Purvis who visited, and your uncle, Mr. Philips came to offer his legal services."
"Where is his picture?"
"I do not think I have drawn him," Mr. Darcy said. "There was no need, everything he said was straightforward and he did not stay long, just enough to introduce himself and leave his card."
"He is the best lawyer in Meryton," Elizabeth said. "And the only one."
Mr. Darcy touched the sketchbook, pausing before he turned the page. "If you need to yell at me you may wish to do it now."
Soon Elizabeth understood why. The likeness of her father was quite good, although not exactly flattering.
On the next page, Mr. Bennet was sprawled in his chair lazily, and the caption said, "My girls are all very silly but I had nothing to do with it."
Elizabeth shrieked in dismay. "Papa!"
"Again, not a verbatim quote," Mr. Darcy said.
"The worst thing is that I could picture him saying exactly that," she said. "He was never a very involved father and would rather mock us for being silly than take the trouble of showing us how to be otherwise."
"It is possible that he was the silly one," Mr. Darcy said.
There was a close-up of Mr. Bennet's face, scrunched in a cynical frown. The text said, "Jane is my pretty daughter but I don't know anything else about her."
"Bingley had seen her in Meryton, you understand," Mr. Darcy said. "So he was instantly smitten, and he was asking questions about her, but I do not think that Mr. Bennet had good answers."
There was one more sketch of Mr. Bennet, this one more like a caricature in style. "If my Lizzy was a boy he might not be a complete dullard."
"Usch!" she exclaimed disgustedly.
Then she was silent for a long time.
Finally she said, "You did not want to dance with me, and it makes complete sense now."