Mr. Darcy's Secret (20 page)

London is filling up; there are more carriages arriving every day, and there is such a ceaseless bustle and hustle about the place that I long for the solitude you have. To be able to sit at the side of a lake with ne'er another soul in sight must be wonderful. Still, to see it all through your eyes is reward enough if I cannot have the real thing.

I hope you enjoy the enclosed. We made a visit to the Tower of London and I have drawn some of the wild beasts to be found there. I am not sure who is the more curious, and the animals have such a way of looking at you that I almost began to feel that I was the caged one. Do write and tell me what you think! I must away, as Lord Featherstone is calling me--I shall endeavour to find the time to write some more before I catch the last post.

Since writing the above, I have just heard some incredible news. It seems that my patron has been invited to the Lakes, to a house party. I know none of the particulars, but it is too much to hope that I shall also be asked to come. Lucky, lucky Featherstone!

I will write again as soon as I can with any more news.

Affectly yours,

Thomas Butler.

Georgiana was all hope. She had heard her brother mention Lord Featherstone's name at breakfast, and now she was filled with anticipation, trusting that Tom's patron could no more do without him in the Lakes than he could in London. If she could just have one glimpse of Thomas Butler that would be enough to satisfy, she told herself. Ever since they had arrived, despite all attempts to blot Tom out of her mind, she had been unsuccessful. His letters were her solace and pleasure. Mr Darcy had been quite right about Georgiana's romantic sensibility, but not with any reference to Mr Calladine, who had sent no missive of any kind. No, her thoughts and visions were all centred on Tom, whose countenance she espied on every distant hilltop vista and Lakeland scene.

At the very start of April, as the daffodils danced on the quiet shoreline of Lake Winandermere, an untidy procession of coaches, carriages, tilburies, and phaetons noisily wound their way along the roads from Kendal to their various destinations, some toward the lake itself whilst others travelled on to more remote hideaways.

Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst looked out of their carriage window in expectation as they bowled along.

"How soon do you think we shall see
him
, Louisa?" said Miss Bingley, who could not speak Lord Dalton's name out loud for fear of raising her blushes higher. Caroline, who had never felt anything remotely like love for anyone in her life before, was completely smitten. Such a change had come over her that she hardly recognised herself. So softened by her notions of amour and romance had she become that even Louisa looked quite handsome today in her eyes, which was saying a lot, because apart from the sibling rivalry that prevented her from ever admitting anything in her sister's favour, she privately thought that Mrs Hurst was very fortunate to have caught herself a husband with a countenance that she considered would make a turbot appear attractive.

"You gave him our forwarding address, did you not, Caroline? I am sure he will find us if that is his desire," answered her sister with a look of discontent spreading over her face. In her opinion, there was little chance of Lord Dalton calling often, if at all, but she kept her thoughts to herself. She started to gesticulate through the window. "It all looks rather wild out there. Are you quite sure this is such a good idea? To turn down Lady Catherine's kind invitation so you can cavort in a cottage is not my idea of fun. What did you mean by it, Caro? Have you gone mad?"

"I confess, I think I am a little mad, dearest Louisa... mad in love, if you please. And I think when you hear me out, you will see that my reasons for choosing a sweet cot are very sane."

"There's nothing sane about wanting to stay in a tiny hovel a peasant wouldn't thank you for, with no servants to light the fires and no cook to wait on us. I do not know how you talked me into staying with you."

"Oh, Lulu, you know I must have a chaperone, especially one that likes to take herself off for long walks when a certain gentleman comes calling. It is so romantic! I can see it all! Just picture it: a cosy sofa by the fire and Henry on his knees before me. Louisa, this is my chance, you must know that."

Louisa knew nothing of the sort and privately thought that her sister had as much chance of winning over Lord Dalton as she had of winning the State Lottery, which she never did. The fact that he seemed similarly smitten with one of Lady Catherine's circle, the unassuming yet beautiful Miss Theodora Winn, was a truth that Caroline refused to acknowledge or admit.

Presently, the carriage stopped, the door opened, and the steps were let down. "You'll have to get out here," said the driver of the post chaise. "I can't get down that track; I'll never get back again."

"But how far is Robin Cot from here?" snapped Mrs Hurst who was less than impressed by the coachman's attitude.

"I can't say, ma'am, it depends who's doing the walking," he answered gruffly, observing their fine kid shoes. "Though by just looking I'd say fifteen minutes if the mud's baked, twenty-five if not. That's Robin Cot yonder."

The sisters followed his pointing finger to the sight of a small dwelling, which could just be seen through a clump of trees on the brow of a hill in the distance. The narrow lane they must walk down was three inches deep in mud. Neither sister was equipped for such a jaunt nor did they relish the prospect of undertaking such a feat. They looked at one another in horror. "But you cannot leave us here," wailed Caroline, as she watched the driver climb back onto the box.

"Company rules, ma'am," he shouted, with a dismissive wave as he set off to leave them. "I'll arrange for your luggage to be brought up to the cottage, but you'll have to pay extra for a man to carry it all. Good-bye, ladies, I hope you enjoy your stay!"

As the sisters were struggling down the lane, each berating the other for anything and everything, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, accompanied by Mr and Mrs Collins, was calling at Bellingham Hall. Mr and Mrs Darcy and Miss Georgiana attended their guests in the Chinese drawing room. Elizabeth greeted her friend Charlotte with the liveliest pleasure and her husband as formally as his manners entailed. It was so good to see her old friend again, and though they had much to discuss, little could be accomplished with Lady Catherine in the room. There was nothing to be done but to listen to this formidable woman talk, which they all did without any intermission till the tea things came in, delivering her opinion on Winandermere, Lord Dalton's sublime painting, and her poetry writing in her usual decisive manner. If she paused for breath, Mr Collins supplied what was missing with much flattery in his usual grave tones punctuated with deferential bowing in Mr Darcy's direction.

"You and all your guests are invited to come along to my first soiree at Golgarth Park," Lady Catherine announced with a slight nod of her head, as if bestowing a gift of great worth. "It will be an occasion not to be missed. Everyone is arriving from London; in particular, Lord Dalton and Lord Featherstone are my very special guests. Featherstone was such a great comfort to me when my husband died, Mrs Darcy, I cannot tell you. He is a great man. Of course Lord Dalton has promised to speak about his work and will be reading from a selection of my poetical writings. Mrs Darcy, you will be interested to know that your friend, Mrs Collins, has been most fortunate to be present at all our meetings and will, no doubt, enlighten you as to the methods and philosophies behind the arts we shall be discussing."

Elizabeth looked across to where Charlotte was sitting. Poor Charlotte had blushed pink and was looking as if she wished to be anywhere else but in the room. Mrs Darcy was quite certain that Lady Catherine had coerced her friend into attending the meetings and could not begin to imagine what agonies she must have suffered at the hands of the poetry and painting circle.

Lady Catherine spoke again to Elizabeth. "Do not be alarmed that your ignorance of fine art and poetry will leave you at a disadvantage in the first instance, Mrs Darcy. Mrs Collins will be there to advise you."

"I do not know how to thank you enough, Lady Catherine," answered Elizabeth, feeling quite mortified, not only for herself but also for poor Charlotte who bit her lip in embarrassment at Lady Catherine's rudeness.

"If I," said Mr Collins, "were so fortunate as to be able to compose poetry, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with a sonnet, for I consider poetry as a very innocent diversion and perfectly compatible with the profession of a clergyman. However, the rector of a parish has much to do of a more practical nature, and so I am obliged to leave such composition to those with the leisure to pursue their literary craft. Lady Catherine is the finest exponent of the
petits vers de societe
, and I must add that although I consider my dear Charlotte and I to have but one mind and one way of thinking, I bow to her superiority when it comes to the written word."

"But, Mr Collins, is it not a fact that you must write sermons for the benefit of your parishioners, and as such, a well-crafted lesson which has ramifications not only for their understanding but for their moral well-being is surely as fine as any piece of poetry committed to paper?" asked Elizabeth, with a perfectly straight face.

"Mrs Darcy, I am most sincerely complimented by your sentiments. Firstly, whilst a humble clergyman as myself dare not flatter himself to be most fortunately blessed in this capacity, according to those who judge such matters, I am assured of setting the example of excellence in sermon composition in my parish for the optimum benefit to all. Secondly, I am convinced that such a gift--which is surely disposed from above--dispenses not only spiritual balm ensuring the welfare of my flock, but also essentially assists in their general happiness; and thirdly--which perhaps I ought to have mentioned earlier--that it is the particular advice and recommendation of my very noble patroness to allow such time for the exercise that will improve and enhance my method and delivery. I think, if pressed, Lady Catherine would concur..."

"Darcy," interrupted Lady Catherine, talking over the top of William Collins, forcing him into silent apologies and yet more frantic bowing, "we shall take our leave. It only remains for me to say that I shall expect you all on Friday se'nnight. Dearest Georgiana, do not be afraid of such august company. The possession of a superior bent for artistic merit is endowed only on the minority. Learn from your betters where you can. Your cousin Anne will be present. You will be pleased to see her again, no doubt. It is such a pity that ill health has robbed my only daughter of attaining excellence at the hands of the Masters, but I welcome Lord Dalton's very particular interest in her society. He hardly leaves her side when he visits. There is something very pleasing in the sight of a young, handsome couple engaged in conversation on a subject of mutual interest. Do you not agree, Mrs Darcy?

"I do, indeed," said Elizabeth, instantly curious about the physical appearance of Lord Dalton whose looks had been compared to Anne de Bourgh's. From what Elizabeth remembered of her, she was small and thin; a pale, sickly creature; and her features, though not plain, were insignificant. During Elizabeth's stay at Hunsford, Anne had spoken very little. The thought of Miss de Bourgh engaged in animated conversation was impossible to imagine. The whole idea of spending time at Golgarth Park was too dreadful to contemplate, but she must admit she was curious to see this nonpareil that was all the rage of London. For a nonpareil Lord Dalton must be, she decided, for half of the city and so many females to be descending on the Lakes, especially when she considered that Caroline Bingley had never expressed any former passion for painting.

"I bid you a good morning, Darcy. Georgiana, you may accompany me to my carriage, and Mrs Darcy, I will add this recommendation. You need to exercise more, for you are looking decidedly sallow and peaky. Take my advice and walk; you will look and feel much better for it," said Lady Catherine as she swept out of the door.

Mr Collins immediately rose and followed, practically running behind her, but as soon as she could, Elizabeth arrested Charlotte, making her promise to visit the next day and to bring the baby if she could manage to do so.

The next morning found Georgiana up early to go on her regular walk to collect the post. Although she was looking forward very much to seeing if there was another letter from Tom, she could not help feeling disappointed. On accompanying Lady Catherine to her carriage the day before, Georgiana had questioned her aunt on all her guests in minute detail. She had learned that Lord Featherstone had no one accompanying him, so that meant that Tom would still be in London and not in the Lakes as she had hoped. She was very disheartened, but perhaps it was for the best.

Georgiana took the route along the lakeside, not the quickest, but the most beautiful. Everyday there was something new to see in the ever changing scene, whether it was of wildlife frequenting the water or the effects caused by weather transforming the mere into one of ethereal fantasy as the light and mists descended to play upon the surface. This morning, swathes of white vapour draped like bridal veils across the water rose in filmy clouds up to the blue heavens, transforming all she could see into shades of lilac and cerulean so that the fells and the water met one another in mutual harmony. She must remember to describe the scene to Tom, she thought, and could not resist pulling out her pocket sketchbook she had made for such a purpose. The sun was breaking through the clouds, fanning sunbeam fingers restlessly, caressing the surface of the mere like a pianist scaling up and down the keys. Everywhere was silence and for a moment Georgiana felt as if she were the only person in the world, and so small did she feel against the majesty of the mountains that made such a stunning backdrop, as well as the surrounding beauty of the landscape, that she was filled with a sense of the divine. Her pencil made rapid strokes. It was no good, she decided. It was impossible to do justice without using colour and she vowed to return later with her paints and brushes. As she emitted a long sigh, resolving to continue her journey, she was disturbed by the sound of breaking twigs; someone or something was moving along in an obvious hurry, down through the clump of trees some yards behind her. Georgiana turned at the sound. For a moment she contemplated the gentleman in the distance who stood stock still at the sight of her as if she witnessed an apparition. The shock was great and her natural instinct was to withdraw into the shelter of engulfing trees, but as he ran toward her Georgiana's face lit up with joy on contemplation of his smiling countenance. Her pencil and pocketbook fell to the ground.

∗ ∗ ∗

Miss Bingley tried again to light the fire in the tiny room that served as both kitchen and parlour. Louisa, sprawled in one of the only two chairs they possessed, looked on with impatience. "Caro, let us get some help. I do not understand why you are being so stubborn. If you'd only let me get someone to come in from the village, or better still, have us de-camp from here entirely to take refuge with Lady Catherine or one of our other friends, we would be much happier and infinitely warmer! I'm sure you're doing it all wrong."

"Well, your efforts did not produce a single spark let alone a flame, so I do not know why you are criticising me," snapped her sister. "At least there is a smoulder in the grate even if it is only smoking now." Caroline pushed back a tendril of hair that had fallen into her eyes, leaving a black smudge across her face.

Louisa howled out loud with laughter.

"What's the matter now?" shouted Caroline with indignation. "You come and light it if you think it's so hilarious."

"I wouldn't dream of usurping your place as the expert on all matters domestic," drawled Louisa lazily, deciding there and then not to inform her sister of the sooty smears which rendered Caroline's countenance quite ridiculous in her opinion.

Their ensuing argument was only broken by a knock at the door. Caroline eagerly rushed to open it in the hope that she might find Lord Dalton on the doorstep. It would not matter if her hands looked slightly careworn, she thought. Her appearance would be more authentic for having a few blisters and dirty marks. Lord Dalton's paintings themselves reflected not only the romantic vision of life in a cottage, but also that of the humble peasant dirtying their hands with good, honest work. Caroline put on her best smile and flung open the door.

Lord Dalton did not speak. His eyes twinkled with amusement and it was very clear that he was suppressing more than a smile. "Good morning, Miss Bingley. Forgive me, do I call at a difficult time?"

"Lord Dalton!" cried Caroline, instantly hiding her dirty hands behind her back. "Do come in, we are so glad to see you at last."

Lord Dalton passed into the small hall, ducking his head under the doorway into the parlour. Caroline followed, gazing at his back in admiration. She surmised that he was taller and broader than Mr Darcy; a fine figure of a man were the words that sprang to mind. Flecks of grey glinted here and there through his wavy dark hair, giving him a distinguished air. From her vantage point behind him, she gesticulated wildly at her sister, flapping her arms with the intent, Louisa was sure, of removing her from the vicinity. But Louisa was not going to be moved so speedily.

"How pleasant to see you again, Lord Dalton," Mrs Hurst said, extending her hand toward him, which he promptly took and kissed. "It is so kind of you to call upon us in our simple cot. Do sit down."

He looked about him, but such were the scarcity of chairs that he denied himself the only spare seat and turned quickly to offer it to Miss Bingley just as she was signalling in no uncertain terms that it was time for her sister to leave. There was nothing to be done but to pretend that she was waving at a fly, and with exclamations she considered fitting to fly swatting continued to swing her arms in the air.

Louisa remarked with a smirk that she was about to go out and directed Lord Dalton to her seat as she rose. Delighting in both Dalton's expression (surely of horror at the idea of being left alone to entertain a deranged woman with coal smuts on her face) and by her further delay of several more minutes as she donned a cloak and bonnet, she was pleased to see Caroline almost apoplectic with indignation as she left.

∗ ∗ ∗

Elizabeth cradled Charlotte's baby in her arms. The friends were sitting together, quite alone, in a small sitting room overlooking the lake. Lizzy was thankful that Mrs Collins had called when everyone else was either occupied or out. Mrs Gardiner and Mrs Butler had gone down to the village, Jane and Bingley were out walking, and Georgiana was sitting sketching in her favourite spot on the lawn as Mr Darcy watched, glad not only to have an opportunity to talk to his sister, but also mindful that his wife would want to have her friend to herself and not necessarily wish him to be in their company.

"Catherine is the most delightful babe," Elizabeth enthused, kissing the top of her head. Catherine gurgled with pleasure, making Lizzy smile. The thought that she would one day soon have a baby of her own to comfort was a delightful one, but she couldn't quite imagine it just yet. There were so many questions Elizabeth had for Charlotte. She observed her friend, noting her cheerful demeanour, her features and figure rounded into softness, which she had often recognised in others who led a comfortable and satisfying existence. Despite the misgivings she had felt when Charlotte had married Mr Collins, she was pleased that her fears were unfounded in every respect. Mrs Collins looked happier and more fulfilled than Elizabeth had ever seen her.

"Oh, Lizzy, you know I had wondered not so long ago if I was to go through my life never knowing what it is to be a mother. Indeed, I think I surprised quite a few people when I became a wife."

Elizabeth did not know how to answer this without betraying the fact that she had been one of those people. She smiled encouragingly instead and Charlotte continued.

"Oh, I know, Lizzy, you did have objections to my marrying him, but I hope I've proved that ours is a very satisfactory match. We are suited in many ways, not least in our ability not to expect too much of the other nor of our situation in matrimony. That way disappointment is not easily met and any small happiness is seized upon with delight. Perhaps I did not immediately feel for my spouse what you felt for yours on marrying, but I have to tell you that with Catherine's arrival this unromantic soul has taken a turn to the contrary; I am in love with William as much as I ever hoped to be. I cannot tell you the joy my daughter brings me; every day has something new to learn."

"Oh, Charlotte," enthused Elizabeth, "I am so happy for you, and more so because you deserve such happiness more than anyone else I know."

"Well, that is enough about me running away with my feelings. I want to say how wonderful it is to see you again, Lizzy. Marriage is certainly suiting you; there is such a glow about you." Charlotte paused, her head on one side as she contemplated Mrs Darcy's form. She smiled, a knowing expression on her face. "The Derbyshire air is clearly very good for one's health and... you have filled out a little, I think."

Elizabeth looked at her friend whose countenance betrayed her every thought. Lizzy laughed. "I see what you are thinking, Charlotte, and if you promise not to tell anyone yet, I shall tell you what you have already guessed."

"Is it true, Elizabeth? Oh, I am thrilled for you! I should not say it but I only had to see the way Mr Darcy behaves toward you to suspect it."

"Oh dear, is it that obvious?" Elizabeth laughed merrily as her friend nodded.

"Well, perhaps it is not obvious to all," Charlotte admitted at last. "Mr Collins has no idea, and I have chosen not to enlighten him with my conjectures. I know him too well to suppose he could keep it a secret, and I am certain you will not want everyone to know just yet. He would not resist telling Lady Catherine or making hints to Mr Darcy, I am sure, so I have kept my thoughts to myself. I suppose Jane knows, does she?"

"Yes, of course, she was one of the first to hear of it, and Aunt Gardiner. Lady Catherine has already made many impertinent remarks, though I hope I have not given her any true reason for suspecting my condition. But, Charlotte, please promise not to mention it to your mother, for I have not told mine and I do so want to keep it secret for a little while longer.

"Not a word shall pass my lips, you know that," said Charlotte with a pat of Lizzy's hand.

"Now tell me," said Elizabeth, trying not to laugh again, "how might I improve myself enough for an evening amongst the august company of Lady Catherine's circle?"

"Dear Lizzy, I cannot tell you what I have endured, though I am sure you would have found it all extremely diverting. Follies and nonsense such as you have never witnessed before, believe me. I do not think I shall tell you all for fear of spoiling your pleasure. That is if you think you shall be coming to the event of the year!"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Elizabeth replied. "Do you know exactly who has been invited?"

"Well, we have many people staying at the Park who will be in attendance, like Lord Dalton, Lord Featherstone, and Lady Metcalfe. Then there is Theodora Winn and her sister Emma, two lady poetesses, the Misses Tankerville and Ponsonby respectively, three gentlemen painters, Mr Richardson, Mr Hunter, and Mr Ellis, as well as Mr Fraser and Mr Murray who write poetry and plays, I believe. Caroline Bingley and her sister have been invited also, of course. I expect they will have called to see you."

"No, I did not know they were yet arrived," said Elizabeth. "Is it true that they are staying in a cottage?"

"Apparently so," said Charlotte with a nod of her head. "Between you and me, Miss Bingley has a soft spot for Lord Dalton, and I have a feeling that her residence in a rural idyll is for the benefit of gaining his admiration. He has a passion for tumbledown dwellings which are shown to great effect in his latest series of paintings."

"Oh dear, poor Caroline," said Elizabeth, suppressing a laugh. "I cannot imagine how she is coping."

"Nor I. Lady Catherine was most put out when she heard that they had refused her invitation. She was so piqued that she set about immediately trying to find a replacement. It seems she had the fortune to bump into some old acquaintance of her husband in Kendal. Apparently the Cathcarts had been staying with a colonel of some Northern regiment in Hawkside and were on their way home when Lady Catherine persuaded them to put up at Golgarth for a few days."

Elizabeth instantly recalled the meeting with her sister and Lydia's mention of Wickham's Newcastle regiment. But there was no need to worry about that, she persuaded herself. Lydia and her friends were away on the other side of the Lakes and even if they were in the vicinity she was sure that an evening of painting and poetry criticism would not be of any interest to her sister and her friends. "Goodness, I hope the drawing room at Golgarth Park will accommodate so many," commented Elizabeth, unable to resist laughing again, though her expression rapidly changed on hearing what Charlotte had to divulge next.

"Oh, it's vast," answered Charlotte, "big enough for an entire regiment, which is just as well because I believe Lady Catherine has invited some of the Cathcarts' military friends for the evening too."

∗ ∗ ∗

"Is it really you?" asked Georgiana as she gazed up into Tom's eyes. As he took her hand she prayed he would not let it go. "How can you be here?" She could not believe that he was standing before her, that he held her hand, however briefly. It was useless to deny all that Tom meant to her; just his very presence was enough to make her feel as if she were glowing inside. In that moment Georgiana recognised beyond a doubt that she was in love with Thomas Butler and there was no going back.

"My dear Miss Darcy, I knew I would find you here. Your letters described this spot so perfectly; it is exactly as I saw it in my mind's eye, such a heavenly place. Thank heaven for Lord Featherstone! I am here because of his kindness. My patron could not demand an invitation from Lady Catherine for myself, but he knew how much I would enjoy seeing the Lakes and he has long known of my wishes to explore the region. He suggested I might benefit from a holiday and he arranged for me to travel at my convenience. Besides, I think he is rather hoping to furnish some of his drawing room walls with scenes from the Lakes and I am only too happy to oblige."