A Private Performance (14 page)

“Begging your pardon, madam, Miss Bennet has upset my mistress ever so, and Mrs. Bennet is very angry with her, Miss Bennet, that is, and is shouting. I know not what to do.”

Jane hurried to Elizabeth's room. In the enormous bed, Elizabeth lay back, white as the pillows. Her mother stood at the bedside, hands on hips and very red about the face, as she berated Mary. Jane took her hands and said:

“Hush, Mama. All will be well. Mary, please leave the room.”

“Why should I, the only member of my family to seek a spiritual interpretation of this event?”

Jane was splendid. “Mary, I insist that you leave the room immediately.” Mary closed the door with elaborate care as she left.

Mrs. Bennet collapsed into an armchair, fanning herself.

Jane went to her sister. Elizabeth's eyes were wide and dark with pain. Jane took her hands.

“What has happened now, dearest sister? Let me share your trouble.”

Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears.

“Jane!” shrieked their mother. “My nerves are in shreds! Bring my smelling salts. Jane, what can you be thinking of?”

“Here, Mama,” she said, fishing out the salts from her mother's reticule.

“Ah!” cried the afflicted lady. “That girl will be the death of me. Of course, no-one cares for my feelings.”

Jane went to her sister and whispered her promise to be with her very soon. She calmed her mother in the way only she could, and persuaded her to rest in another room.

In the library, the gentlemen were immune to the disturbance. Mr. Bennet was enjoying a quiet hour's conversation with Bingley. Darcy left the window and crossed to the bookshelves, pulled out a book, looked vaguely at the cover and put it back.

“I'm such a pitiful fellow when it comes to getting a library together,” Bingley said. “Darcy has quite given up on me.”

“Mmm? What was that?” Not waiting for an answer, Darcy shrugged his shoulders and walked back to the window. Outside, the heavy greyness was broken only by a relentless drizzling of rain. He turned and left the room, wandering into the adjoining parlour. Mary had been studiously perusing a volume, but jumped up. Her cheeks had spots of high colour and her expression was strange. Bowing without speaking, he left the room, going straight upstairs, giving the girl no more thought.

He found Jane holding a cup to her sister's lips, while Wilkins stood by with lavender water. Jane smiled up at Darcy, yet feared the consequences of his talking to Elizabeth before Mary were got out of the house. Darcy saw the ambivalence in her look. Then he saw some books on the bed and picked one up and opened it at the marker.

“What is the significance of this?”

“Her intentions are good,” said Jane.

“Mary?” Jane nodded helplessly.

Jane kissed her sister and relinquished her place to Darcy. Wilkins put down the lavender water and they left the room, softly shutting the door. Darcy picked up the cloth and bathed Elizabeth's face with a gentleness she had never had from her mother's hands.

“Am I a good wife to you, Fitzwilliam?”

“Dearest love, can you doubt it? Has a day gone by in which I have not told you how happy you have made me?”

“I know you are happy, but why is our baby gone? Why did God take it away?”

“Dearest, who can know? These mishaps often occur, do they not?”

“Mary says it is a punishment.”

“What? She dares to speak so!”

“She said I am wrong in everything. The way I address you, my whole manner towards you, that I dress to … to arouse; even that I use Lady Englebury for ends of my own.”

Anger burst up from his gut. That Elizabeth could even listen to such cant showed how laid open she was by her loss. He walked across to the window. He calmed himself, and came back to the bedside.

“Dearest Elizabeth, of all those traits for which I love you, the depth of your integrity and your pride are the keystones. You could not satisfy Mary's ideal unless your spirit were broken, and the woman I love destroyed.”

“Indeed, I cannot be other than I am.”

“Now this is a better spirit. Do you not remember your claim that your courage rises with every attempt to intimidate you? When you said that at Rosings, I was vain enough to think you were flirting with me. If you had married me then, we would have had some wonderful battles while you taught me that you had spoken the absolute truth.”

“It is ironic that Mary is so dissatisfied with me, given that I have more respect for you than for any man alive.”

“I shall endeavour to deserve it.”

She closed her eyes and sank against the pillows.

“Can you try …” she said.

“Yes, Elizabeth. What do you wish of me?”

She was too tired to think.

“I will do everything in my power for you, as you know.”

The soporific scent of lavender and the mild narcotic her maid had administered were taking their effect. He said no more, but stayed by her side until she was deeply asleep.

 

When Mrs. Bennet had recovered sufficiently to come downstairs, she scarcely noticed that Georgiana was in the parlour. She shut the door firmly and glared at her daughter.

“I am not going to mention your foolish and impertinent behaviour, Mary, until we are at home,” she said. “I have told Jane I will say nothing, and I shall be as good as my word. I am very angry indeed.”

Georgiana made an unconscious little backwards movement, but Mary gave a huffy little shrug.

“How dare you shrug at me, miss? Shrug at me again and I shall slap your face. You will drive me to my death with your nonsense. What could you know, girl, of matters between husband and wife?”

“Mama,” whispered Jane.

“What is it, Jane? Oh, I have nothing to say on the subject, but what Elizabeth's husband will say I know not what to think.”

She was spared the necessity for thought, for Darcy strode in. Georgiana started up quickly. Darcy turned to Jane and spoke with obvious self-constraint.

“Jane, will you kindly take care of my sister for a few minutes?” Jane inclined her head and the two went out.

He turned to Mrs. Bennet. “Madam,” he said, “I wish to speak to Mary about an action of hers that has greatly displeased me.”

“Say what you like, sir. Mary cannot hear any words harsher than she will have at home, I assure you.”

Darcy turned back to Mary. Her hands shook as she looked up at him, and she put them behind her.

“You committed a grave error, Miss Bennet, when you dared to speak to my wife as you have this morning.”

Mary pressed her lips together, tilted up her chin, and answered: “She is my sister and it was done for her own good.”

“For her own good? Are you sure you had even a sole thought for her good? You waited until she was alone, knowing her to be defenceless with disappointment and exhaustion, before you prosecuted her with this mean and ignorant attack.”

She quailed, but her mouth was stubbornly set. “It was not ignorant! It is based on Holy Writ.”

“You call this Holy Writ?” He snatched up a pamphlet, and Mary flinched at his sudden movement. “Even the evangelicals would call this cant!” In frustration, he tossed it onto the floor. Mary made a move towards retrieving it, and then fell back.

He picked up the Bible. “Show me where in this book anyone, let alone you, is authorised to speak in the name of God, and to tell another that their suffering is His punishment?” In his anger, Darcy almost consigned the Holy Book after the first. He held it for a few confused seconds, then put it down, and turned again to Mary.

“Do not again interfere between me and mine,” he said.

He left the room.

He was in the hall, putting on his greatcoat, when Bingley came after him.

“Darcy, don't leave us like this.”

“If I remain in that room another moment with Mary, I shall shake her.”

“Oh, dear, I know not exactly what has occurred but come and talk with me. You need not see Mary again.” He smiled hopefully.

“Bingley, Elizabeth is asleep. Will you ask Jane to keep that wretched tribe out of her room? I must have solitude.”

“What of your sister? Perhaps she would like to see Elizabeth.”

“Georgiana? What can she do? She will be sick with worry if she sees Elizabeth.”

“She is no longer a child, Darcy.”

“What?” He did not wait for Bingley to elucidate that strange remark. Moments later he was on his horse and galloping away into the park, in the rain.

 

Atop a small hill he reined in and turned to look back, brooding, at the house. Inside, Elizabeth was sleeping, in the care of her maid and Jane. He heartily wished the rest of her relations to the other side of the world. He was learning to appreciate the caustic edges of Mr. Bennet's humour, but why had this highly intelligent man never exerted himself? He might have taught his wife and younger daughters how to conduct themselves with dignity, instead of standing by
and laughing at them. While Kitty's manners were improving, so that her society was tolerable, he could not abide Mary Bennet's arrogant display of false piety. Her mother was simply intolerable in her vulgarity. How obviously she gloated over Elizabeth's new wealth and consequence! Truly, it appeared that Mrs. Bennet had never valued Elizabeth, the best of her children, until she so raised herself in society.

The horse stood still, but for the occasional toss of his head, and Darcy sat unmoving, seeing nothing of the view spread before him. He thought of the heavy price he had paid to have Elizabeth for his wife. He had forfeited his cousin, Anne's, great fortune, nearly equal to his own. Almost all of his relations had discarded him. Lady Catherine's revenge spread even to his friends, so that Reginald Foxwell had been denied his living, though he felt no regret.

Darcy raised his eyes to the distant hills. If only Elizabeth had carried the babe to its term. He allowed himself now the luxury of feeling that loss. What a compensation it would have been to carry a small son around the estate, showing him all that would be his. That would be some revenge upon his cousin, and heir, in Scotland, who had snubbed him altogether on his marriage.

‘Good God!' he thought, starting out of his reverie. ‘What a great tragedy I am constructing of this inconsequential setback. We will leave this place as soon as Elizabeth is well, and return to our proper abode.' He shrugged slightly, and looked out towards the road. He pictured Elizabeth, her laughing dark eyes, the movement of her lips as she wove her spells with words, the flame of her anger when wronged. He thought with pleasure of the little threesome they would form again with Georgiana at Pemberley, where, for a time, all the world would be excluded.

W
ITH HER SHAWL CLOSE ABOUT
her, Mrs. Edgeley sat in the sun and watched as her three eldest daughters strolled beside the lake with Mrs. Darcy. All four were dressed in simple muslin gowns. The Misses Edgeley wore shawls, while Mrs. Darcy was set apart by the elegant cut of her jacket. The curate's wife sighed. Had her girls ever had that bounce in their step? Mrs. Darcy must be about the same age as Emily, twenty-one. Yet how differently life had moulded them. Had this young woman, married less than a year, always had such assurance? Somehow she felt that Elizabeth Darcy had always known her own worth.

Anna was but twenty-three, yet her looks, plain enough, seemed already to have lost the bloom of youth. A teacher at Greystead School now these past four years, she no longer spoke as if she envisioned any other future.

Emily, however, could bear ‘imprisonment' in those walls no more. She was prettier than her sister. Her mother knew that her spark, rather than extinguished, was contained. Margaret was just sixteen. Time enough to think about her later.

She looked out across the lake, shimmering in the sun, and let her eyes wander the shades of the woods beyond. What a pleasure, a luxury, it was to have her girls at home with her on their first vacation in four years.

Emily and Margaret walked behind, whispering about Mrs. Darcy's clothes, her rings and her hair.

Anna, moving ahead with her hostess, had other matters on her mind.

“Mrs. Darcy, Emily has been doing the school accounts now this past year.”

“In addition to teaching?”

“Her position of assistant teacher places a small demand on her many abilities; and the accounts occupy but a few hours each week.”

“I see,” said Elizabeth, wondering how few shillings account-keeping paid.

“My father always believed my name and Emily's were put forward for scholarships at Greystead, as the competition is fierce. Examining the books, Emily discovered that our ‘scholarships', so called, were funded by Mr. Darcy, who arranged that they appear to be awarded by the school on merit.”

Elizabeth smiled. How like him to assist a struggling curate in this anonymous way, to spare his feelings.

Anna continued, “I would not wish my father to know this. For all his reputation for humility, he has his pride. Will you thank Mr. Darcy for us?”

“Certainly, I will.”

“I thank him from the bottom of my heart, for how else could my dear Mama manage?” She turned and looked back at her mother, and held back the tears so that her grey eyes stung.

Mrs. Edgeley looked older than her forty-three years, and how could it be otherwise? She dearly loved her children, but they were too numerous. She was worn out, both with child-bearing and the struggle to provide for her family respectably. Year by year, Mr. Edgeley's chances of being made vicar seemed to recede, as the incumbent stubbornly lived on. She woke from her reverie and waved.

‘What sad thoughts I have been having in such a beautiful place,' she thought. ‘God will care for us, as dear Mr. Edgeley says. Our situation is improving all the time. Next term Sarah will be at school, John at University, and Samuel away with his brother Egbert at sea. Dear little Samuel: everyone's darling, but he is eight years old, and must begin to be a man. Yes, in the autumn there will be but seven children still at home and Mr. Edgeley can take in boarding scholars.'

Elizabeth and Anna wandered ahead of the other two, and their conversation turned to music. The faintest glow lit Anna's pale face.

“We practise on the church organ every day and Emily has her lute, so we do not languish for want of instruments at home, although I miss the harp.”

“Then will you come and play for us? I am sure Miss Darcy would like to hear you, as would I.”

“I would be honoured, Mrs. Darcy.” Anna hesitated. “I have heard of your lovely voice, madam. You look surprised. Mr. Turner spoke of the pleasure he had in hearing you sing.”

Elizabeth laughed, and said, archly, “Perhaps Mr. Turner wishes to gratify my husband, who has some excuse, I suppose, for overestimating my talents.”

Anna flushed. “Mr. Turner would never speak with insincerity.”

‘Well, well,' thought Elizabeth, ‘am I bruising tender feelings?'

“Miss Edgeley, I was speaking lightly and did not intend my comment as a reflection upon Mr. Turner. Does your sister Emily play instruments other than the lute?”

“Yes, indeed. She plays the pianoforte very well, and the harp. She teaches singing, although she does not like to sing before company.”

“She is very talented then.”

“Certainly. She speaks French and Italian very well and knows some Latin, which my father taught us before we left home.”

Elizabeth smiled wryly, recalling her own haphazard education.

“I envy your sister, and, no doubt, you as well, though you do not boast of your own accomplishments.” She stopped and turned to face Anna.

“What will you think of me, Miss Edgeley, should I tell you of how I came by my small stock of French phrases?” she asked, her head to one side, and a mischievous smile playing about her little mouth.

“We had a master who was appointed to teach French to the three eldest girls. However, there existed two very small sisters, who would come into the room and chase each other about, snatch up his papers and scribble upon his books.” Anna stared at Elizabeth in horror. She had not the benefit of teachers other than her father until she went to school and could not imagine a life in which masters should not be revered.

Elizabeth laughed ruefully. “I have shocked you, I see. I shall never forget his face: he had the most tremendous black eyebrows. One day,
my little sisters were running about, squealing, and he, trying to ignore them, was shouting, ‘Je suis heureuse! Tu es heureuse!'. I am afraid I was naughty enough to laugh. My Mama came in at that moment and he was dismissed on the spot. How dared he shout at her precious children? It was several years before I learnt that the French do not go about furiously bellowing: ‘I am happy! You are happy!'”

Anna laughed.

“The music master managed to get the attention of us older girls by dint of the clever trick of convincing our mama that we were vastly talented, and that nothing must disturb our instruction.”

“I am sure it was no trick, Mrs. Darcy.”

“I think it was, and fooled my mother to this day, and she is never content without poor Mary and me displaying our gift to her amazed guests. I wish her conviction of my genius had led to her insisting upon my practising more. Your sister, however, has made excellent use of her opportunities.”

“She knew that she must.” Anna stopped, half turned to Elizabeth and said, “Emily hopes to obtain a position as governess. Do you think she will have difficulty in finding a suitable position?”

“Not with such qualifications as hers. I may be able to assist her, if she so wishes.”

“We would be most grateful for your help, madam.”

“Truly, it would be a pleasure. What of you, Miss Edgeley? Do you find your work rewarding?”

Anna looked calmly out across the water. It was impossible to read her feelings.

“Greystead School lacks the variety that an interesting household may provide, but I am reconciled to spending many years there. I infinitely prefer it to the uncertainties of a governess's post.”

“I understand you perfectly.”

Before they parted, Elizabeth arranged for the two eldest Miss Edgeleys to visit Pemberley again.

 

Three days later, Mr. Turner climbed the stairs at Pemberley and went along the picture gallery. From the closed door of the music room,
the sounds of Mozart rippled out. The young man's eyes were riveted by the portrait. When one came upon it suddenly, something of Mrs. Darcy's essence seemed to leap out at one. He traced the lines of the face, searching for the likeness.

“You consider the portrait faithful to the original, Mr. Turner?” He jumped.

“Mr. Darcy, good morning. Yes, it is very like.”

“I am very pleased with it. I trust you have not been waiting long.”

“A few minutes only, pleasantly spent listening to Miss Darcy play.”

“I believe that it is not my sister playing.” Georgiana was an accomplished pianist, but did not produce such volume from the instrument. “Have you time to delay our business? Mrs. Darcy is entertaining some callers this morning. Would you like to hear them?”

“In truth, I should be delighted.”

As they entered, Emily finished playing. Turner had met the Edgeley girls several times. Elizabeth watched the greeting between him and Anna, his normal gentlemanlike manner, and her usual calm.

Anna seated herself at the harp. Her eyes half closed, she seemed to lean into the music itself. Her usually pallid complexion was glowing. Her music resonated, sank to a murmur, and ceased.

Her audience seemed to hold its breath before applauding. Elizabeth ran over to her.

“Miss Edgeley, that was quite the loveliest thing I have ever heard.”

“Thank you,” said Anna. Already her face was losing its colour. In spite of herself, her eyes sought Edward Turner's and she smiled briefly at his compliments. He turned to reply to a question from Darcy. Elizabeth noted the colour of Anna's eyes, which had seemed to deepen as she played, fading again to cool grey.

‘She is retreating again,' thought Elizabeth. She said: “Will you come and play for us again? We are expecting guests next week; among them are two ladies whose performance upon the pianoforte is formidable.”

“More so than that of the present company? This I cannot believe,” said Mr. Turner.

“Believe it you must, sir. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst draw forth all the dash that the instrument affords.”

“What of your sister, Miss Catherine Bennet? Does she play?”

“Kitty was somewhat delicate as a child. My mother felt the exertion of sitting at the instrument would tax her strength,” said Elizabeth, inwardly smiling at her mother's oft-repeated excuse.

During refreshments, Edward Turner talked with Miss Edgeley. Elizabeth watched them from time to time. She laughed at her own thoughts. She would have suspected nothing if not for Anna's small flare of anger, when she suspected Elizabeth of doubting Turner's sincerity, as they walked by the lake. He was a lover of music, and Anna a performer of music worth loving. What a wonderful ending it might be. He was earnestly desiring Anna to play again. Emily looked at them furtively from time to time. Anna was all stillness; she had an evenness as smooth and unadorned as her simple stone-coloured gown.

 

“Yes, I enjoyed the visit,” she was to say to Emily, in the privacy in their shared bed. “Pemberley is all superlatives. The house is splendid. Mr. Darcy is the epitome of the handsome gentleman, perfectly polite and good. Miss Darcy is the epitome of modesty, accomplishment and sweetness. They had everything but someone to make them laugh. So God sent them Mrs. Darcy.”

“Anna, he must adore her, do you not think so?”

“Why did you not ask him, if you feel you must know?”

“Oh, Anna, why do you not long to get away from Greystead?” The only sound in the darkness was of Margaret or Janet turning in sleep. “I cannot bear the thought of another term there. Mrs. Darcy mentioned that she has written to a lady she knows who has a very wide acquaintance and may know of a situation for me. Her name is Lady Reerdon.”

“Lady Reerdon? She sounds very grand.”

“I hope …”

“Emily, for what do you hope? Take care, my love. Guard your heart and govern your thoughts. If we can but find a family who will treat you with respect and pupils who will obey you, I will be content.”

“Surely life has more for me than Greystead can offer. I must get away!”

“I know.”

“Anna, Mr. Turner is attentive to you.”

“He has taken the trouble to speak to me of music; that is all. I do not wish to speak of him, dear. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Anna.”