Previous Section, Section II
Chapter Eight Posted on Sunday, 5 March 2006
Elizabeth passed much of the evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam. He delighted her with tales of his exploits in Canada. He had recently been a traveling merchant and his business brought him to several remote villages in the northward country. Fearful experiences such as wildcat attacks, a violent, enraged beau of a local beauty, a boat that leaked and sunk when he was nearly a mile from shore ... so many adventures colored his speech. She doubted their reality, elaborate as they were, until he earnestly swore on his honor of their truthfulness.
During the war he had been in Canada, missing much of the sting that arose from the division between his countrymen. Elizabeth was relieved to find that he was not a Rebel. But then, he didn't completely agree with the Yankees either. He stated, "I'm just a dedicated American." It would not have mattered so much to her even if he had been with the Confederates, because she sensed that he would have joined them only to support his neighbors.
The call for a prepared supper was made to the guests. The Colonel offered his arm and asked if they could be dinner partners. Elizabeth spied Emma on Mr. Knightley's arm a few feet ahead of them, so she happily accepted. They walked forth from the ballroom, following the mass migration to a large dining hall where several long tables were set. The gentleman escorted their ladies, waited for the host and hostess to set the example, pulled out the chairs and made their womenfolk comfortable. After all the ceremony, the men themselves sat down with a great scuffling and thumping of boots. The high vaulted ceiling allowed the noise to rise to a loud murmur as the food was served by hired attendants.
Elizabeth smelled the tantalizing aroma of baked turkey even before the plate was placed before her. She realized that the dancing had given her a hearty appetite. She gave the Colonel a smile before raising a forkful of steaming meat. Just as she was biting into it, she glanced across the table to find a pair of penetrating eyes bore through her. Mr. Darcy sat with his arms folded against his chest. His appearance, even while dining, was ominous.
Oh, the cruelty of the evening, to be sitting directly across from him! Elizabeth returned his glare with a smile of attempted innocence and friendliness. When he did not respond in kind she simply shrugged her shoulders and turned her attention to her partner. Thankful for the width of the table, she judged it to be a good thing that they were too far apart to speak easily. He may have had a word or two to say about her little "accident".
Elizabeth could not understand why, but she felt a great urging to annoy him by whatever means she could. He was a disagreeable, rude person who, in her opinion, should stay at home instead of coming out and making people uneasy.
Her plan set forth, she made a great show of enjoying the Colonel's conversation, smiling so much that her cheeks hurt from the constant muscle work. She laughed at all his humorous remarks and added enough of her own wit to make it a genuinely pleasant dinner. The only thing that make her uncomfortable was Mr. Darcy's ill-guarded, persistent stare. He certainly had an effect on people, in spite of his reclusive attitude. His gloominess seemed to reach out, daring her to contradict it.
When several courses where consumed and dessert was brought out, Elizabeth wondered about Mr. Darcy's own dinner partner. She did not suppose he had come with a lady, but he appeared to have found one anyway. A timid sort of girl sat at his right. The woman raised a glass of water to her lips and Lizzie took the moment to study her over.
She had a mass of dark hair pulled tightly back, setting off a startling pair of diamond ear bobs. Her gown was not colorful, a soft grey. Though plain, it was undeniably well-tailored. The girl could have passed as being sixteen or seventeen judging by her size, but the mournful look in her eyes aged her several decades. She seemed completely out of place in the jolliness of the company. A compatible partner for sullen Mr. Darcy, Lizzie decided.
The dinner ended and the people filed back into the ballroom. The music struck up again with vigor. Elizabeth waited alongside the wall, feeling that she wouldn't be asked much more. However, she was pleasantly surprised to find that at least every other dance someone claimed her as a partner. It boosted her spirits to know that she was not wallflower material after all, despite Mr. Darcy's verdict.
After some thought, it made perfect sense to her. During the beginning of the evening all the gentlemen danced with the ladies they brought first, following with their other close acquaintances. When the respectable resources had dried up, they had to seek out new partners, allowing her to be chosen.
The hours whittled away from the darkness of the night, nearly to the dawn of the next day. Elizabeth yawned as she looked towards the clock. It was three-thirty in the morning. She was glad for the nap that Emma had insisted upon earlier that day. Looking around to find the dance drawing to a close, she felt content to sit out the last few turns or join in if asked.
She watched the gathering group, ready to perform the last quadrille set. To her right, coming as a cloud of dismal pose, Mr. Darcy walked towards her. She groaned within. He stopped and looked at her for a moment. She nodded, acknowledging him, then turned her attention to something else. He cleared his throat. In halting tones, he asked, "Miss Bennet, can you dance?"
Shocked by this abrupt and rude question she retaliated, "Of course, sir. Every savage can dance, can they not?"
He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes glued to the hem of her gown, "I did not mean..." he darted another glance up at her face, "would you care to dance with me?"
Her eyes shot him a racking look, "Thank you, no. I am not inclined to dance at the moment."
"Then you will please excuse me." He bowed and backed away quickly, leaving her to fume. The audacity of the man! Why did he persist in annoying and insulting her? What could he possibly have against her? They had just barely met. Perhaps Emma had told him about her being from the North and he simply tried to affront supporters of the Union in any possible situation. Or maybe he was generally snobbish and insolent all the time.
Elizabeth woke the next morning and laughed at herself. She had worried about her attitude towards Mr. Darcy as she drifted off to sleep the night previous. The horrible tyrant had deserved it. She decided not to worry over it any longer.
It was quite probable that she'd never chance to meet up with him again, since her visit would only be a month more. He had already proven his disregard in keeping visit arrangements with his relations, so she doubted ever coming into such close quarters with him again.
Emma, despite the late hours of last night, was in high spirits when she came down for breakfast.
Elizabeth smiled knowingly. "You are in a exceptionally good mood this morning, Emma.">
Emma looked up from her herbal tea in surprise and replied, "Ah, yes. We are lucky to have good food. Alice is a marvel."
Elizabeth laughed, knowing her friend's mind was occupied with other thoughts. "Do you think I could beg Alice to give up the kitchen this afternoon? I want to try my hand at that apple turnover recipe she has."
A gentle, absentminded murmur was all she received from her hostess. Alice came in, took a look at Emma, then shared a sly look with Elizabeth. She began to hum and set down a plate of johnnycake.
"Oh, Alice..." Lizzie said before she whisked back into the kitchen, "Might I use the kitchen for a few hours, later today? I'm dying to cook up something!"
Alice's right eyebrow lifted, "Besides some concoction to kill annoying gentlemen, I hope?"
Fully baffled, Elizabeth wondered how Alice could know of last night's struggle. "Where did you ever get that idea, really Alice?!"
The witty woman leaned down and whispered, patting her hand, "You talk in your sleep, deary."
"I did that this morning?"
"Yep, just after I came in the through the back, I went to the linen closet to get some more rags. I heard a terrible moaning and came running to your room. You were sho' mad at somebody! You were spewing all sorts of decrees against the high and mighty, though you didn't mention names."
Elizabeth held her stomach with one hand and gripped the chair arm with the other in an attempt to keep herself upright. Her eyes began to tear as she shook with glee. Her own absurdity, or sheer stupidness, often came back to haunt her in the funniest ways. "I'd appreciate it if you'd protest when they come to take me to an asylum someday."
"Sure thing." Alice said with a wink. "And you can have free reign of the kitchen for three hours. No more mind you."
"Right."
Emma looked quite perplexed over the spectacle they made. She had not registered a word they were saying. Dance music still ran through her mind. Mr. Knightley had treated her with, what she dared hope to be, preference above the other women. He asked her to dance an almost scandalous four times and had made her his dinner partner. Though he spent time with her, he did not neglect the others there. He seemed to be busy nearly every dance and for that she was proud of him. Perhaps the future was looking brighter.
"I'm afraid I missed the joke." she said with a smile. "Lizzie, I have a call to make this afternoon. Will you be able to do without me for a few hours, or would you rather come?"
"I'll stay here if you don't mind, Em. I've got some cooking plans."
"All right. Alice, do you think we might have crawfish stew tonight? Mr. Knightley is coming to supper."
"Emma," Elizabeth chuckled and shook her head, "I don't think that is a good idea if you want to catch him for a beau."
Looking puzzled, she asked why not. "George absolutely hates crawfish. Always has, since I first knew him."
"But he seemed to enjoy it so, the first night you were here."
"He was only being his polite, gallant self. He didn't want to hurt your feelings." Elizabeth burst out laughing so hard that the tears fell freely.
Emma's face screwed up in consideration of this and a frown came over her rosy mouth. Suddenly she cried out, "Lizzie, please stop it!"
"I'll try." she answered between shudders. "Why, what's wrong, Emma?"
"Don't you see?" she cried. "I've done something horrible. He'll never care for me."
"Why not?"
Emma placed her chin on her hands woefully, "Because the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
Elizabeth soon reassembled something more akin to a hyena then a young lady eating breakfast in a fine Virginian home.
"Alas, my love, ye do me wrong, to cast me off discourteously, and I have loved you so long, delighting in your company..." Elizabeth sang out quietly, almost afraid to emit sound in the silence that had settled over the house.
She heard no protest from Mr. Woodhouse who was taking a nap in his room upstairs, so she kept on. Her courage grew and she gently increased her volume. She checked the apples to access their progress. Seeing that they were almost done simmering in the large pot of water, she stirred in sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and some raisins which she found in the bag in the cellar.
She set it aside, allowing the filling to cool slightly. Lastly, she added some chopped walnuts to the mixture, after sampling a few herself.
The stove in the corner spread stifling warmth throughout the room. Feeling the sticky perspiration gather along her neck, she decided to open the door that led out to the backyard. In rushed a pleasant, relieving breeze that cooled her warm skin.
Next she worked on the dough. It took her a while to find the flour and salt amid the substantial collection of ingredients in the pantry. She added the other elements of the pastry. Elizabeth worked it in a medium-sized bowl, rolling the dough into a plump ball. When she picked it up to test its weight, it slipped through her fingers and landed with a thud in the bowl again. Of course, it was not ruined, but she received a great gust of flour in her face. She laughed at herself, grabbed a rag and wiped it off.
Continuing to sing, she rolled the dough out on the counter top. "I have both waged life and land, your love and goodwill for to have." She cut it into several small circles and applied apple filling to one half of each. "Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greeensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but my lady Green..." As she turned to check the oven's temperature, Elizabeth's voice caught in surprise. Just outside the door stood a man. He was positioned below the two steps that led up into the kitchen. Elizabeth's face reddened as she recognized his tall form.
"Mr. Darcy!" It came out in an abrupt squeak. She wiped and wrung her apron in her hands, too stunned to speak. He stared at her for a few agonizing moments before the corners of his mouth suggested an almost smile. His gaze swept over her in a most unsettling way. Though the look was not a disrespectful one, perhaps simply amused, it made her composure slip. She stared back at him in spell-bound silence.
He held a parcel under his arm, which he now gestured to, "Forgive me, Miss Bennet. It was not my intent to ... eh, startle you. I thought Emma was out and that perhaps Alice would be back here. I did try to ... knock. At the front, of course." His sonorous voice trailed off in the awkwardness of the moment.
Elizabeth only nodded, in increasing dread. He had caught her in a moment of severe humiliation. The horrid man seemed to laugh at her smugly from his dark eyes. Embarrassment wreaking havoc on her dignity was a feeling that she rarely experienced and now that she did, she wished that it were a nightmare that she could simply wake from.
Darcy took off his hat and climbed one step tentatively. "I have some elixir, er, a tonic I suppose, that Mr. Woodhouse requested. Emma asked me to bring it by this afternoon since I was about town."
Emma, in her dreamy state, had forgotten to be present for her cousin's delivery. Lizzie mustered up some decency and said, "Mr. Woodhouse is taking a nap. But I will be glad to give it to him when he rises. Emma is calling on a friend and Alice went to the market. I'm afraid you find me all alone today, sir." She felt like slapping her forehead after that last sentence. Stating the obvious was something only worthy of a fool. Feeling like a dunce, she asked if there was any other message he wished to give, all the while hoping fervently that he would go away soon.
"No, nothing else. I'll leave you now. Good day, Miss Bennet." He turned away and crossed the yard to the gate. A long-held laugh escaped Mr. Darcy's throat before he was out of her earshot. The sound rang in her ears and her face reddened all the more. He was an impossible creature!
She then turned back to her task, her hands shaky and cold. She flexed her fingers in frustration, determined never to let a man affect her like that again. How dare he laugh at her singing! She knew she was no appealing songbird, but still ... Then Elizabeth happened to look in the mirror that hung over the counter top. A broad, white square of flour was plastered right down the center of her forehead and a halo of flour frosted the front of her hair.
An hour later after the turnovers had baked and cooled, Elizabeth sat leisurely in her room. She had drawn over a stool and now had her tired feet propped up. She held a worn book on her lap, a sort of journal, and held a pencil loosely between her fingers. After writing about the pleasantries of the ball, she wrote out her vehement dislike of Mr. Darcy. Scrawling his name in bold strokes, she gazed on the surname thinking that it was a distinguished one. Even if the owner was such a disagreeable person, Darcy was a lovely family name.
Elizabeth reflected on her own name, feeling as she often had, that it was rather dry. The only thing she admired was that Elizabeth was the name of the powerful Queen of England. With a sigh, she closed her book and leaned back against the headrest of the armchair. Closing her eyes, she took the chance to doze. A half-hour later, feeling rested, she heard the front door downstairs open. She slipped her shoes back on and went down to greet Emma.
Taking her wrappings and cloak, Elizabeth asked, "Did you have a nice visit?"
Nodding, Emma replied, "Oh, yes. But it is so sad, Lizzie... What an unfortunate girl!"
"Who?"
"Anne Elliot. A friend and distant relation of mine. Didn't I introduce you last night?"
When Elizabeth shook her head, Emma's brow furrowed for a second. "Strange, I thought I had."
"You were busy, Em."
"Well, I won't forget next time. Now, there's a sorrowful tale if there ever was one. I wish I could help her."
"I know you are dying to tell me it, so go ahead."
They moved to the settee and sat down. "Anne and I have known one another since birth. I'll try to explain our relation, if I can. Let's see, my mother's brother, Albert Darcy, married Rebecca de Bourg. Her sister is Catherine de Bourg, who married Walter Elliot. Anne is one of their three daughters."
"Phew, what a challenge to keep track of! So, they are relations by marriage, you say?"
"Yes, Anne is first cousin to William, Mr. Darcy, as I am; just on the opposite side of the family. Anyway, a few years ago, Anne was a beautiful young girl of seventeen. She was a pretty little thing, gentle, good-natured and everything inviting. She'd have been snatched up by a few boys in town, if not for Mrs. Elliot. Her mother, always a determined and overbearing matron, felt Anne was not up to the throws of society. She claimed that Anne had too weak of a constitution to be out much. Truthfully, I don' think she's ever cared a fig about Anne's health. All she cares about is Elizabeth's fame, her snobby eldest girl. Anne's immune system is not regular, but I think it improves when she is allowed to exercise. There was a time when Mrs. Elliot let up on Anne a bit and allowed her to really get out and enjoy society.
"Anne blossomed forth at her best and caught the eye of a dashing young man named Frederick Wentworth. He was every girl's dream then, including mine, a girlish fancy before I left for school. Anne took me into her confidence since she never had other friends. She loved him and felt that he loved her. Frederick was well-mannered and handsome, undoubtedly so, but he came from a family that held no important position in polite society. He had little funds or anything grand to recommend him, though he was a hard worker.
"Anne tentatively offered to her mother, in her characteristic timidity, that she wished to marry Fred, but that was met with a stern lecture. Mr., and Mrs. Elliot in particular, have always prided themselves in their wealth and position. To have their daughter even consider marrying the likes of a Wentworth was forbidden. Mrs. Elliot convinced Anne that she was being selfish and that she should let Fred go, allowing him to find a wife more suitable to his needs. She said that Frederick needed a wife who would not be a burden or give him extra work. Humph, Fred was self-sufficient enough for the both of them! Anne would have easily adapted to the role. Anne, who has always been extremely trusting and considerate, complied and gently, but painfully broke off the understanding between herself and Frederick.
"I was too young and too far away to know that all this was happening. I left for school just as their romance was coming to a full blossom and had fully expected Anne to be engaged by the time I got back. But it was ruined."
Elizabeth frowned, "What happened to Mr. Wentworth?"
"He up and joined the army. He was so angry and hurt by Anne's sudden retraction of affection that he signed up the first chance he got. We haven't heard of him since. And Anne now realizes that she should have married him despite her mother. She lives with the regret constantly. She still loves him and will not consider any other young men that I mention."
Elizabeth shook her head pitifully, "My, that is a sad tale. Poor girl. How old is she now?"
"Just two years older than we are, twenty-three. I try to visit her once every fortnight and Will takes special care of her."
"Mr. Darcy does?"
"Yes. They understand each other in ways that I cannot."
"Suppose it's their unease around people?"
"I'm not sure, Anne isn't uneasy around people. She just is one to listen rather than talk."
While Elizabeth was thinking about the tyrant, she said, "Mr. Darcy dropped by earlier."
"With that tonic! I'm so sorry I forgot, Lizzie! What a surprise that must have been for you." Emma's eyebrows lifted inquisitively at the slight change of coloring in Elizabeth's face.
"I want you to know from here on, Emma, that I will not allow you to match make me with your cousin. I don't want to cause a void betwixt us so I will not state my opinion of him, though I am sorely tempted. I just want you to know that if you continue to plot, it will be in vain and I will fight back with every ounce of this Irish and American blood." Finishing her speech, she settled back to watch Emma's reaction.
Emma was taken aback by the passion of Elizabeth's proclamation. To keep the peace, she nodded meekly and smiled. With a change in subject the episode blew over quickly.
Chapter Nine Posted on Friday, 19 May 2006
Elizabeth laced the strings of her sun bonnet, taking care not to pinch her neck. The sun felt divine on her skin. It was as warm as hot cocoa, and nearly as pleasant. Had a lively breeze not accompanied it, the heat would have teetered towards intolerable.
Unseemly as it was, she felt the impulse to whistle but resisted the urge and hummed instead. As Elizabeth walked at a brisk pace she felt a kind of release inside her body. It felt as if she were stepping out of her shell, plunging into a refreshing world of renewal. She could not get this feeling when confined in the house. Back home she undertook the several mile-long walk to her sister's house every Wednesday morning. These walks and visits were always a welcome diversion from the bedlam at home.
The Bennets lived in a quiet neighborhood in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The tranquility of the place was surprising. Just a few blocks away, the bustle of a city in full excellence of industry could be heard at all hours of the day. This was an advantageous set-up, for while Mrs. Bennet and the younger girls would perish without the variance of the shops and society, Mr. Bennet liked to be settled in a place that sported some semblance of peace.
The clang of a horse-drawn trolley car rang as Elizabeth found herself strolling along a busy street. She still did not have the street names committed to memory, but the landmarks were easy to retain. After paying fare and verifying its destination, Elizabeth climbed aboard the trolley eagerly. The ride was smooth and fine. The scenery varied from well-kept houses to the remaining ruins from the war. On the stop at Grace Street a man stepped in and seated himself on the bench across from her.
Happening to glance in his direction, Elizabeth felt oddly acquainted with the curve of his chin. He had his head down, the upper-half of his face was hidden by wide-brimmed hat. Several minutes later, the man looked up from the newspaper he held open in his hands and glanced back. His face lit up in happy astonishment.
"Goodness, Miss Bennet! What a pleasure that our paths have crossed again!"
Discovering the man who had captivated her senseless on the night of the ball, Elizabeth quickly smiled. She wished she could recall his name in return but she had not heard it in the first place. "Yes. I ... I'm sorry, sir. Although I recall our interactions, I confess I do not know your name. The music was playing too loudly when you declared it at the ball."
He put down his paper altogether and set it on the seat beside him. He tipped his hat and looked at her warmly. "Taylor A. Whitham, at your service."
"I admire your honesty, Miss Bennet. We could have stammered through an entire conversation with you uneasy, not knowing how to address me."
"It's quite alright now." Elizabeth offered. There was such a look of admiration on his handsome face that she felt a degree of giddiness and delight run through her. Such sensations rarely arose because of her independent nature. Where men were concerned she did not care much for romantics but this was different. She felt unavoidably attracted to him and had many reasons to believe him similarly affected. This knowledge did not hinder her tongue as she had always imagined it would; instead she felt completely at ease with him. He looked even better in the light of day than by the candlelight of the ballroom. Mr. Whitham's voice drifted unreservedly to her ears, "What brings you out on this lovely day? Shopping?"
"Mr. Whitham, you have uncommon powers of perception. Yes, I am out to do a little bit."
Smiling persuasively, he added, "And you, Miss Bennet, possess uncommon prettiness in your spring attire. A very pleasant picture." He looked over her dress and nodded approval.
She felt a blush rise cleared to the roots of her hair at this, as she shook her head. He laughed at her discomfort and continued, "I was just returning to my office after an early luncheon. The thought of going back to a desk is not agreeable when the weather is so fine. Might I have the honor of accompanying you? That is, if I am not in the way?"
Exhilarated, Elizabeth asked, "Are you sure you can take the time without causing a reprimand from your employer?"
"Positive. He can be a rogue at times, but he is generous with his time."
Her brows indicated the question forming when he explained that he was the master of his own business. She replied, "Well, then I would enjoy a companion. I am not used to Richmond's largeness yet and the guidance would be most appreciated."
"At your service, milady."
"This will be just fine, don't you think?" Elizabeth twirled a sachet of lacy material before Mr. Whitham's face. She planned to give it as a present to Emma, whose birthday would be at the end of the week.
"Oh, for me? You shouldn't have!" A hand flew to his heart as he claimed in jest.
A laugh bubbled up, "Really Mr. Whitham, you are comical. Perhaps you should enter the theater."
"If I did, would you attend my showing?"
"Hmmm, now I'd have to think about that..." She smirked flippantly.
He pouted, then grabbed a silken shawl from the shelf behind her and in one swift movement, placed it around her shoulders. The color perfectly contrasted her dark hair. Flirtatiously, he winked, "No, I suppose you wouldn't. You are altogether too pretty to allow the spotlight fall on anyone else."
Coloring, she picked the scarf off and busied herself by looking through a pile of fabric remnants. She really had no use for any, but wanted to divert her feelings away from the distraction he was. His behavior towards her was arresting and so complimentary that she felt herself very much in danger of her feelings. Even when she had resolved not to look at him, her eyes briefly darted up to see him watching her appraisingly. She spun around to look at some jewelry in a case across the aisle.
After looking at them and exclaiming a lament about their price, or rather pretending to look at them, she announced that her browse at the current shop was done. Next was the grocer's market, for she wanted Alice to make a heavenly cake for the occasion. Mr. Whitham took her packages willingly and offered his arm to her. They talked about the postal service in Richmond as they crossed the street. Unfortunately, they did not watch for the oncoming traffic of buggies and wagons. Noticing their danger, Mr. Whitham hopped back onto the curb, pulling Elizabeth out of the path of a speeding wagon. The wheels had only been inches away from her.
Startled and dazed, Elizabeth looked around, not comprehending just what had happened. Her packages were strewn on the sidewalk beside them and she was secure in Mr. Whitham's arms. Not on his arm, mind you, but in his arms! Her reaction did not come as quickly as it should have. She did not immediately push away, but stared up at him in awe and confusion. After several moments of unearthly pause, he looked as if he were about to plant a kiss on her upturned face.
Quickly snapping to her senses, she shuddered and pulled back from him. Her foot touched a parcel and she began to pick up the rest. Mr. Whitham bent to help her, after a moment of stupor or regret, she did not know which. Elizabeth could hear his heavy breathing beside her.
When she handed over the packages, they continued on their way. They stepped off the main path and Taylor led them to an open public park. He guided her to a wooden bench and bade her to sit while he stood with her parcels bunched in his arms. Understanding that he was allowing her to rest after their ordeal, her rapid heartbeat became slightly sedated.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I think so. Though I think I need to go back to my friend's house now. I am not a fragile creature, but a good rest would be appreciated. The ingredients can be purchased tomorrow. Thank you for your service today."
He gazed on her assiduously, "No, not at all. It is a pleasure to serve you. May I walk you back home?"
"I would be most grateful." She gathered her skirts and stood up. It did not take long for them to board a trolley and arrive at her stop. Standing at the crossroads of two streets, Elizabeth had to try to gain her memory of the landmarks again. Luckily she remembered after short contemplation and they made their way to the Woodhouses' neighborhood. Mr. Whitham's arm tensed slightly. The packages must be very heavy for him, she thought.
"Which house are you to be delivered to?"
Elizabeth pointed. "That's the one." Mr. Whitham nodded and took out his pocket watch.
Muttering a soft curse, he looked back over the distance they had just covered. "Is something wrong?"
He sighed, "I did not remember ... I have an important business meeting in just a few minutes. I can just make it if I hurry along right now."
"I'm sorry. Thank you for escorting me home."
"A pleasure." He bowed deeply, gently settled the parcels in her arms and smiled. "Perhaps I will see you tomorrow, at the trolley stop, same time?"
Elizabeth nodded, "Perhaps."
"Good day, then, Miss Bennet." Tipping his hat, he walked off towards the west of the city.
She stood, watching his form melt away down the street. A smile of ardor formed on her face and her heart jumped about wildly for a moment as she rethought the events of the last hour. Her arms felt heavy though as the possessions settled their weight. Turning to the gate that kept the yard separated from the street, Elizabeth commenced humming a merry tune.
Sneaking around to the back door, Elizabeth let herself into the house. "Lizzy, where have you been all morning long?" Emma peered at her curiously inside the kitchen. Elizabeth cried out in panic and laughed, running to her bedroom in haste. Laughing still, she made her way back after hiding away the presents.
Emma looked hurt and confused, such that Elizabeth felt to comfort her. Embracing her and chuckling she exclaimed, "Now, don't look at me so! You look as if I've gone mad."
"Haven't you?" Emma replied with an air of part indignation. She put Elizabeth's hands away from her shoulders, "I will never fully understand you, Elizabeth Bennet!"
Muffling her guffaws behind a hand, Elizabeth's eyes twinkled. "Em, you know it is a very bad thing to peek before your birthday."
Her friend's eyes opened in happy anticipation. "So that's what you've been up to! Come on, Lizzy tell me what it is! You know I'll get it out of you."
"Not this time, my friend."
Elizabeth's blood pulsed thick in her head and chest, making it impossible to sleep. She was truly lost to her usual sensibility. Time and time again she told herself to stop thinking of Mr. Whitham. Taylor. His playful manner was such a comfort from her unease of being in Richmond, yet it somehow unsettled her too. An odd sensation, but enjoyable. She turned over on her side for the umpteenth time and finally sat upright in surrender.
The moon was slipping its light in through a crack in her curtains and she let it show more fully by parting the fabric. It was a lovely sight, with the garden in its nighttime hush and the near cloudless sky. Thoughts seem to turn towards home when a traveler is wary and restless of sleep, and this was exactly what Elizabeth's did.
What was everyone doing while she had been absent? She doubted being missed by her younger sisters, or even their mother. Poor Papa though. He had eked out a short letter to ask how her trip was faring and say that she was sorely missed by Jane. She smiled over the fact that he did not mention his own longing for her return, but she knew it was there whether or not he had put it to paper. She thought of his tender, fatherly goodbye and felt his love even as far as she was from him.
Mama was probably bustling around, giggling and preparing the girls for springtime outings of all sorts. Lydia and Kitty had many sources of amusement with the new batches of returned soldiers no doubt. Hopefully they would not disgrace their family too badly without her there to check them. She reasoned that she had not been gone a very long time, that it only seemed so because she was in such unfamiliar territory.
Her feet were growing cold so she drew herself up into the chair in the corner and grabbed the book Emma had lent her. She read for several minutes in quiet contentment. Upon the turning of a page, a small folded paper fell out and alighted on the floor. Curious, Elizabeth picked it up and read its contents.
Dear Emma,As you asked me this afternoon, I will now answer your question. I do think that girls are better than boys. I'd never admit it in front of Tanner. He'd tease me mercilessly if he knew. Sorry that I didn't stick up for you when the boys were being so mean, I feel very bad about that. I didn't like it when they made you cry. Don't mind what they say because they are all lead heads anyway!
Elizabeth smiled as she realized a younger author had penned it. It was an endearing little confession, most likely written many years past. The next few lines she read with eager interest.
You know, Emma, I want to marry you someday. Don't tell anyone, for we've got an awful long time to wait. But you are such an excellent tree climber and your hair reminds me of morning sunshine, and you are really nice. I think you'd make me a perfect wife when we get to be older. Don't you think getting married is a good idea? I like the idea of spending every day together better than having to wait for visits. Please don't marry Tanner before I get to ask you. He wouldn't be nice to you like I would. I promise never to put frogs in your bed or mice in your carriage like he would. You are too nice for him.
There was a little more to this entertaining epistle, Elizabeth gathered, but the bottom half of the page was torn off and nowhere to be found. So, Emma had always been a heartthrob then. It was quite adorable and held a remaining spirit of the openly innocent boy who wrote. She tucked it back in its place and resumed her reading.
The next day at the trolley stop Elizabeth walked back and forth around the bench. Moving about was better than sitting around with an anxious face. Taylor had not come, though she had waited an hour. Her hope diminished as the sun told her it was well past noon. Trying to fight back the disappointment was unbelievably hard. An older gentleman nearby had watched her state of frustration while he waited for the trolley. Twice he had asked her if he could be of assistance, so evident was her distress. On his second attempt she grew disgusted with herself, politely declined and stalked back home muttering about her foolish expectations.
When she arrived back at the Woodhouses, Elizabeth noted voices in the sitting room that did not belong to anyone in residence there. Taking off her bonnet, she entered hesitantly.
Chapter Ten Posted on Monday, 7 August 2006
"Come in, Lizzie " Emma embraced her and, facing away from the guests, rolled her eyes skyward. Elizabeth did not understand until she introduced the visitors.
"Aunt Catherine, this is my dear friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. I believe I mentioned her visit a few weeks..."
From beneath folds of costly fabric and a lace cap, a tiny woman peered out at her. Her face was like a clean slate, not one wrinkle, but the wisps of grey hair that escaped her cap gave her age away. She impatiently tapped a large cane on the floor, "Yes, yes, I remember. I've not lost my memory, long or short-term. Not yet at least "
She surveyed Elizabeth with sharp, doubtful eyes. Lizzie felt her disapproval, though she could not tell what offended her. On a brief exchange of their eyes, she shuddered. Even as she turned to greet the daughters, Mrs. Elliot's stare pelted her back curiously.
"Lizzie, this are my cousins, Miss Elizabeth Elliot, and her younger sister, Anne." The introduction of the first sounded so much more formal than that of the second. Which she thought it should be, given that the difference was great between sisters. Miss Elliot sat with her ankles decently crossed, head high above the shoulders, looking extremely and thoroughly bored. Her gown was quality and she wore it smartly as a woman of the world should.
Lizzie offered the ladies her pleasure at making their acquaintances though she watched the other Elizabeth with a wary eye. The girl, if she could be called one (she had a certain look of one who appeared older than she ought to look) , offered a tight twitch of the mouth which should have indicated a smile. It certainly resembled the pressed smile of her gentleman cousin, Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth looked on Anne and thought her very familiar-looking. She had been Mr. Darcy's dining partner at the ball.
"Miss Anne, I have met you, though we were not properly introduced."
Anne's grey eyes brightened hopefully and her voice took on timid friendliness, "I recall you from the ball too, Miss Bennet. It's a pleasure to see you again. I had hoped to know you." Her words were scarcely out when a look from her mother made her fall silent. Mrs. Elliot's look was one of curiosity and stern reprimand, puzzling Elizabeth and apparently terrifying her daughter.
"I should not have let you go, Anne. I am sure that is why you caught a cold last week. You should not have gone out at so late an hour. It was unfair of you and your father to side against me as you did. I daresay you regret it now..." Mrs. Elliot said with vicious satisfaction. She shifted her dark, voluminous skirts as if to illuminate her stance. Elizabeth decided she did not like her and promptly flinched when addressed by the women.
The voice started out sharply, then honeyed into an inquisitive tone. "Miss Bennet, I hear you come from Georgia." The eyes glinted at her with keen interest.
"No, actually. I have resided in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, these ten years, ma'am."
The lady emitted a gasp. "What? Did you really come from the North then? Emma what do you mean by telling me she came from Georgia? What were you about, telling me otherwise, girl?" Down went the cane.
Emma voice was straining for levelness. "Pardon me, Aunt. I never said Lizzie was from Georgia. I think you got confused when I was telling of the Hutchinson's cousin from Georgia. Lizzie is quite a different person."
"I can see that she is. A Yankee. We seem to be constantly bombarded with these Yankees. They are all out for what they can get!" She spat out the words with contempt and thumped the cane.
Emma breathed in deeply. She was sickened by her aunt's rude display. "Please, Aunt Catherine. Elizabeth is a dear friend of mine. I do not think this kind of talk is needed."
Looking very incensed, Mrs. Elliot raised her cane in the air and tapped it against the table to emphasize her speech. "Don't be telling me what I may or may not say, young lady. I am still your elder and your aunt, however slight the direct connection is, and I am certainly deserving of having my own choice of words. Impertinent! If you choose to be so ungrateful about my kind attentions, I will leave now."
She swept up her grand material and made for the entryway to grab her wraps. All this happened so suddenly that she nearly forgot her daughters in her exit. Turning back dramatically she added, "Elizabeth, you may stay awhile longer if you have the mind. Come along, Anne "
Anne looked around in a panic, unsure whether to plead for the same allowance as Elizabeth or obey. She did not often have the pleasure of the company of other young ladies and felt herself deserving of a little chat. "Please, Mother, may I stay just for a few minutes more? Surely, I will be near Elizabeth and we will be fine." She looked and sounded more the little girl begging for a postponed bedtime than the young woman of twenty-one.
Mrs. Elliot fumed for a second, but knew she could only show so much displeasure without broaching unpardonable behavior. She left and slammed the door, queerly in a dignified way; if one could ever slam a door elegantly. This having meant a sort of consent, the girls returned to their visit.
Each girl was experiencing widely different emotions. Anne looked pale and surprised by the courage she had just performed. Emma sat thinking how awful everything had been. Lizzie was trying to calm her racing heart and angry brows. Miss Elliot's look flickered amusement, then became invariably bored and stiff.
"Well, Emma," the latter quipped, "it seems you have done it again."
Sighing, Emma answered, "I suppose I have."
A sly grin stole over Miss Elliot's mouth, "We'll be hearing about the evils of insolence for a week now. Good show."
"Please," Anne pleaded, her eyes large and imploring, "can we talk of something more pleasant?"
Alice came in with some cider and cakes then and diverted them for a few moments. Emma chatted with her older cousin about a new family in the area, discussing their wealth and situation. Three unwed brothers was more than a fair prospect for matchmaking. They were quite ready to join forces and assist each other's efforts.
Anne and Elizabeth found themselves excluded and therefore turned to each other for solace.
"Are you staying long in Richmond, Miss Bennet?"
"I am here for three more weeks. I hope to still view the Capitol and Saints John's Church."
"Ah, yes. The location where Patrick Henry's inspired speech was given. An excellent place to visit. I haven't been in years. Tell me, have you ever been to Washington? I hear it is an exciting place."
Anne had found an intriguing topic for Elizabeth to speak of. Lizzie had been there several months visiting an aunt and the uninformed girl delighted in the telling of its many excitements. This subject occupied them for the better part of the visit until the elder Miss Elliot felt her visit was done. With some remorse, Anne bid the ladies farewell but not before expressing her sincere enjoyment in their company.
Emma offered a time for them to return the visit and it was acceptable to all. On this happy note, Emma and Elizabeth were left to their own devices.
"Why he did not come is a puzzle to me. I can only think that he was detained by something more important." Elizabeth sighed. She felt better after relieving her thoughts on a patient Emma.
"How long have you know him again?" Emma asked, hardly hiding her growing curiosity.
"Not long, I guess. I only just met him at the ball and then yesterday. We had a lovely outing though. Do you think it was improper for me to allow him to escort me?"
Emma sighed and looked out the window. "A good many things have lost the term "improper" since the war. I think it was right enough and if you are truly interested in learning more of him, it could not have hurt. Pity I do not know of him, he must be new in our society. Can't be a northerner, as you mentioned before, perhaps a relative of someone. What was his name again, Whitham?"
"Mhmm," Lizzie murmured.
"I hope he won't leave you wholly alone. I would love to see a man turn your head farther than mine is."
Elizabeth gave her a playful shove, which Emma wasn't prepared for. A look of shock graced her face as she fell off her chair. Above her a repentant and worried face appeared, at which she laughed.
Emma held a note up to the light in the dining room where she and Elizabeth were enjoying their meal. It had just come from Pemberley.
"Ah, how could I have forgotten "
"What?" Elizabeth looked up from her cider.
"My cousin, Georgiana, is to celebrate her birthday two days after mine. We are invited to Pemberley for a picnic in celebration. You and Mr. Knightley are to come."
Elizabeth's brow furrowed. "Where is Pemberley?"
"Six or seven miles out of town. Halfway between Cold Harbor Farms and Westwood. It is a lovely place, Lizzie. The land has enough magnificent woods even to satisfy your enthusiasm for them."
Elizabeth had more questions, but Mr. Knightley joined them, causing her thoughts to dissipate.
After a pleasant chat, Mr. Knightley stood to leave. He thanked Emma graciously as usual. But before leaving, he beckoned for Elizabeth to join him. "Elizabeth, I would ask for a moment with you outside." She agreed and followed him out with an air of curiosity. They shut the door, leaving Emma to ponder just what was so secretive. She sat for several moments, uselessly trying not to care about what was occurring behind that door. After two minutes, she could not contain herself and went upstairs to peek out the East bedroom window. Here she had an adequate view of the porch.
The gentleman stood close to his lady friend and seemed to be talking softly. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in a distracted way. She could not see their faces. Their conversation must have been amusing, for a laugh from Lizzie drifted its way up to her. Even after opening the window a crack, Emma could not discern a single word. She watched as if a viewer in a balcony box at the theater, straining to see and hear the actors' every motion and line. But it was of little use, for the box was too far away from the stage.
Elizabeth's head bobbed up and down. They talked for several more moments until Mr. Knightley made a shocking gesture. He put a hand on Elizabeth's forearm and his head disappeared 'neath her bonnet. This action could only mean one thing; a kiss! Emma's heart sank desperately, though it was a quick and chaste exchange. She clung to the window's inside trim fiercely, but did not fall, as her legs grew weak and numb.
It served her right for spying yet again, she thought. Why should she intrude upon this matter which had not concerned her? Why couldn't she tear her water-crested eyes from the gentleman's retreating figure? She called down to Elizabeth a few minutes later. Her voice was flat and characterless as she complained of not feeling well.
"Can I bring you up some tea, Em?"
"No. No, thank you. I think I'll just lie down for the rest of the afternoon. That is all."
Chapter Eleven Posted on Friday, 8 September 2006
Emma little cared that her cheeks were pale or that her mouth was drawn persistently straight. Almost as carelessly she put on a dress and swept up her hair. With a countenance akin to resolve and with the air of a martyr, she descended.
Despite her negligence, her father waited at the foot of the stairs worshiping her beauty. He kissed her gently and took her arm. The care he took to convey these wordless sentiments made her nearly lose her countenance. A smile found its way to her lips for him.
"Mr. Knightley" She couldn't stop his name from flashing through her thoughts, though she shook it off. In any case, she could never be more important in a man's eyes than she was in her father's. Gathering this weak comfort around her, they entered the dining room.
Elizabeth, the bright-eyed traitor, smiled smugly up at her. Mr. Knightley stood, bowed and pulled out her chair. Trying to repress the tension in her hands, she muttered a thanks and studied her plate with a pasted smile. Alice brought in all her favorite dishes. This only made things worse, for comfort foods tend to con you into thinking they are consoling when they are only making you sick to your stomach. The meal was tastelessly filling and the conversation feeble.
After dinner, Mr. Woodhouse painstakingly aroused himself from his perch and raised his glass of watered-down cider (the sweetness of usual strength bothered his inner workings).
"On this occasion, I should like to propose a toast. To my daughter, Emma. Who has tended this old man with the patience and gentleness of a saint, who has been a joy to all who have known her. And who is worthy of the praise and admiration of the world."
Though slightly oversentimental a speech, it was so endearing and sincere that all, including Alice, cheered. Emma burst into tears. She was not sure whether she was crying for happiness or sorrow. Many times a girl simply can't decipher between the two.
Lizzie offered a bolstering look and a handkerchief, though she was really clueless about Emma's thoughts. Emma could not hold a severe grudge on her rival/friend, no matter how greatly she wished to. She pressed the cloth to her face and calmed her trembling.
"Presents now " Lizzie's eyes sparkled as she bounced up and down like a child. "May I bring them?" Emma nodded, wiping her eyes. At least they had not forgotten that.
Seven boxes with ribbons and knots enough to make dress trim were placed before her. Emma picked up a large hat box but quickly replaced it when Lizzie made a disapproving sound. Understanding, Emma's hands made their way to a smaller, simple box. She pulled the strings and opened the top to find a lavender sachet covered in like-color lace. A delicate, glossy peach seashell was pillowed in it. Smiling, her arms found their way to Elizabeth's and she rested in a friendly hug.
The two gifts from the Elliots were a matching set of fine pastels (from Anne and Elizabeth), and a six volume set of dreadfully dull sermons from her aunt and uncle. Also one package was from Mary, the youngest Elliot daughter, who had married a wealthy local merchant. Emma opened the bundle only to hastily cover it up, looking away with a deep blush. Mr. Knightley and Woodhouse looked puzzled. Only Elizabeth was let in on the bafflement. A pink corset lay inside the box in ugly fashion.
Trust Mary to unintentionally ruin someone's dignity. With the secret, they shared a hearty laugh. George didn't press after they said it was something for ladies.
William sent her a few new books of music and a pearl embedded coin purse she had been admiring for weeks. Georgiana had a bunch of fresh wildflowers delivered, by way of Little Zeb, and a tiny wall hanging sampler she stitched herself. Emma exclaimed and admired the gifts like a child. Turning to the last, she found George's name scribbled on the tag. Her hands shook, but she did her best to appear unaffected.
"I hope it will suit you. I did not completely trust myself after I had chosen it, so I took Elizabeth into my confidence." George muttered from his seat, as he eyed her carefully.
A cry half-slipped from her throat as her eyes feasted upon a shining necklace. On a beautifully worked chain lay a locket made of contrasting gold and silver swirls. It was prettier than anything she had. The flush that had been forming throughout the evening now blossomed in her cheeks. She quietly thanked him and fingered the gift, refusing to meet anyone's eye.
"Thank you everyone, for the wonderful party and lovely gifts." Without another word, she stood and hastily took herself away from the room of confusion. Hardly able to make sense of her actions, she ran to the parlor, then to the front hall. Wringing her hands, frantically seeking for a way to think rationally, she moved out to the inviting back balcony that overlooked the garden. The cool air had somewhat of the desired effect as it penetrated her flaming skin. Releasing a built-up breath she dropped to her knees carefully.
"Why?" she wondered. "What is he up to? It is not possible to court us both at the same time." Perhaps... perhaps she had been wrong about his upstanding character?
A shadow hovered near her. "I ... May I intrude?"
Emma looked up into the pair of eyes she did not want to see. "I'm not capable of conversation just yet, sir. Just give me a moment or so."
He patiently waited. How he could be so calm unnerved her all the more. She stood and began to pace.
Softly, he queried, "Emma, did you feel it wrong for me to present such a gift?"
Her eyes flashed uncomfortably at him. "Yes ... and no."
"That answer is hardly explicit."
"I know. I appreciate the thought that went in to the gift and it is lovely, but I, as a lady, cannot accept such an expensive, intimate offering."
He stepped closer to see her expressions in the dim light. "May I be bold and ask why not?"
She stammered, while studying and clutching her hands. "Such a beautiful ornament is a very personal and expressive thing."
"As I meant it to be." He tentatively pulled her hands into his own. She raised her face up and found herself so near that she could feel a hint of his breath on her forehead.
After a moment of complete star-struckness, she pulled away and murmured. "It is not possible."
"What is not? Do tell me." His voice was full of well-acted repressed longing, or she imagined it so.
Anger came from within her, from a source she did not know. "You cannot court two at once, sir! Please, I do not enjoy being trifled with."
"What?!" Had she looked up she would have seen the shock and pain about his features. "I would never trifle with any young woman's affections, least of all yours. Have my motives not been clear?"
"Sir," she grumbled, "one does not kiss a girl and then declare love to her best friend on the following day. I did not believe you capable. I had thought you the most honorable man I've ever met."
He took her hands again and though she loathed her weakness, she could not bring herself to pull away again. "When I first met you, I received the impression that you were an intelligent and perceptive being. You should have stuck to that impression of me, the honorable one. First of all, I would never be so hurtful to any set of women as to do the thing which you have claimed."
She interrupted, "But you..."
He hushed her and continued, "And if anyone would do that to you, I would be the first to give him pain which he would not easily forget. I'm guessing that you are referring to the conference with Elizabeth on the front porch the other day." Utterly perplexed and a tad lightheaded, she nodded.
"What you saw was me consulting her on your gift. There were no affections exchanged between us other then those of old friends. I gave her a simple kiss on the cheek for her helpfulness. You must be aware of the fact that Elizabeth and I were engaged some years ago. I admire and cherish her like a sister, but you are the one who holds my heart. We met such a short time ago, but I must tell you, I will never love anyone as wholly as I do you. You are the most perfect little creature I have ever beheld. Please say I might have some small chance of winning you?"
Digesting all this was near enough to make a girl swoon. And so Emma being very much a girl, felt her legs begin to buckle as the world sank into quiet darkness. She didn't feel the fall as she should have. Arms cushioned and caught her descent.
Chapter Twelve Posted on Friday, 6 October 2006
Elizabeth worried when George did not return. She knew he had gone to Emma, though it was not voiced. Ruefully, she shook her head at their slowness, or at least Emma's blindness. Yesterday George voiced his intentions to her, making her swear not to breathe a word. Mr. Woodhouse was quite bewildered by all the rushing around of the party, but Alice soon pacified him with another cup of cider and some gentle chatter.
Hurriedly Elizabeth moved across the wood floor, down the main hallway listening for any sound. Where were they? She moved from room to room. As she was passing one a cool hint of air whispered against her face. Why were the balcony doors open? She moved forward, prepared to close them. There outside she discovered George clasping something in his arms, an Emma very much lying limp in his grasp.
"Good heavens, George. What have you done? "
His eyes signaled a curious, partly repentant glance at her. He shrugged. "Nothing much."
"Oh, dear I told you not to scare the life out of her by kissing her right off. You must remember these Southern girls have been raised on velvet pillows. It's quite a scandal to kiss them right off."
He looked offended, "I did not kiss her nor anything of the sort. All I asked was if I would have a chance of ... oh, never mind." He pouted like an indignant boy.
Elizabeth had never seen him like this. "What love does to people " she thought. Bustling over, she barked out orders to the Romeo.
"We've got to get her inside. There on the couch. Easy ... now go get some smelling salts and a cup of water from Alice will you?"
He obediently started towards the door. "And don't breathe a word of this in her father's presence or you send him into a fit, you wretched man."
In a minute he was back with the prescribed remedies and Elizabeth administered the salts. Coughing a bit, Emma came to an awareness again.
With a crease in her brow she said, "Did I faint?"
"Yes." Lizzie threw Knightley a dark look.
"What happened?"
George knelt down beside them. "I asked to court you." He stately matter-of-factly.
Elizabeth imagined Emma to react quite differently than what followed.
She took George's hand and solemnly, softly said, "Alright." Elizabeth thought she should have at least wept a little or something, but she never could tell with a Southern Belle.
Shaking her head in wonder, Elizabeth fell back on her heels. "Apple dumplings, if you two don't beat all " The phrase made her laugh, but the lovers were deaf to it. But her fun was stopped short. After a few seconds of only hearing one's own laughter, one tends to realize how foolish it sounds.
She dropped off into a sigh. Wondering if she should leave them alone she decided against it. In this state they deserved a careful chaperone. The clock tolled eleven in the hall, its chimes grating the silence. "Well, you two, I think we all ought to turn in and continue whatever this is in the morning."
They were too distracted to protest, so Elizabeth led a numb Emma upstairs while George took off with his hat and a promise to be back on the morrow. Having wrapped Emma up in bed, Lizzie took off to her own room. As she closed the door and leaned against it, the humor took over. Her laughter broke the quiet.
Sunny rays welcomed the party as they ventured out Saturday afternoon. Richmond's hustle and bustle had started early. Wagons, carriages and carts rolled by, but the occupants of one were rather unaffected by the rest.
"A new dress, Emma? It's very pretty."
A blush spread primly over her cheeks. "Yes, Mr. Knightley. Thank you for taking notice."
"No 'George'?" he pouted.
She folded her hands over her parasol. "No 'George'. But you are my Mr. Knightley today."
"Ah." he sighed with an undertone of pleasure.
Elizabeth grasped the handle of the door as the carriage hit a troublesome hole. She steadied herself next to George and said, "I'm anxious to meet your other cousins, Emma. They must be an interesting lot, from those I've already sampled. Not that I mean any offense."
"None taken. I know, we all have our oddities."
George piped up, "Now the girl's name is Georgiana, right? I hope I addressed the card right."
"Yes, she is thirteen today. William, Mr. Darcy, is her elder brother."
"What?!" Elizabeth cried out, but remembered her manners and put on a calmer countenance. "I thought she was one of your Elliot cousins."
"Don't you remember me saying that the invitation came from Pemberley?"
Elizabeth looked out the window to conceal her agitation. She simply had not thought Mr. Darcy would be there, being the hermit he appeared to be, but now ... she wished she had stayed home.
"Lizzie, I know how much you dislike him, but please try to be cordial. Or at least polite enough to hold off Aunt Catherine's judgement. I dread bringing friends to our family gatherings because she is so severe."
"Don't worry about me, Em, I've sampled her wrath but won't take it for much. And George here ... he's so flawlessly perfect that she'll not have a word against him!"
He produced a good conceited grin and threw out a jesting, "That's right!"
Mr. Woodhouse woke with a start at the outburst of laughter, sputtering and peering over his glasses. "Wha... what? Is there an obstacle? Have we stopped?"
Emma's voice soothed, "No, no, Father. We are just being jolly. Go back to sleep." She patted his hand, tightened his wraps and watched as he dozed again. While she watched her father, George watched her with a fond smile, thinking how gentle her little ways were.
Lizzie's mind steeled itself for the upcoming hardship. A whole afternoon with Mr. Darcy.
Having passed through the suburbs of Richmond and with several minutes of driving, Elizabeth inquired, "Are we nearly there?" The woods, though beautiful, seemed endless.
"Hold on now, Lizzie. Wait, wait ... there!"
They drove out from a grove and the landscape was defined, opening to view a large clearing. A barn or two showed face at first sight, but beyond was a lovely sight. Slightly down in a vale, surrounded by forests, the land displayed fields of green vegetation and orchards full of pink and white blossoming tress. To the left of the orchards, a mansion rose in splendor like a palace of white, a Greek temple.
Elizabeth's eyes grew wider on seeing it. Towering pillars supported the house on all sides, a balcony wrapped itself around the exterior of the second floor and wide, precise glass doors implied the way to a stately entryway. Gable windows rose from the top like three beckoning lookouts. If the nature scenes had not been enough to satisfy her eyes, the mansion alone was. Breathlessly, she whispered, "This is Pemberley?" Even as she said it, she knew how witless the question was. Of course it was Pemberley. Nothing so beautiful could be called anything else.
Emma nudged George. "I think Lizzie's finally in love." she giggled.
Elizabeth didn't contradict her, but continued to take in all the richness. Perhaps Mr. Darcy had a right to snobbery.