and murmur how much she liked Mr Alveston and express her good wishes for them both.
Elizabeth felt it was time now to get dressed and start the day. She was oppressed by the thought of how much had to be done before the arrival of Sir Selwyn Hardcastle at nine o’clock. The most important was to send the letters to the invited guests explaining, but not in detail, why the ball had to be cancelled. Georgiana said that she had ordered breakfast in her room but would join the rest of the party in the breakfast room for coffee and would very much like to help. Breakfast for Lydia had been served in her room with Jane to keep her company, and once both ladies were dressed and the room put to rights, Bingley, anxious as always to be with his wife, would join them.
As soon as Elizabeth had dressed and Belton had left her to see if any help was needed by Jane, Elizabeth sought Darcy and together they went to the nursery. Usually this daily visit took place after breakfast, but both were gripped by an almost superstitious fear that the evil which overshadowed Pemberley might even infect the nursery, and they needed to reassure themselves that all was well. But nothing had changed in that secure, self- contained little world. The boys were delighted to see their parents so unexpectedly early and, after their hugs, Mrs Donovan drew Elizabeth to one side and said quietly, “Mrs Reynolds was good enough to see me at first light to give me the news of Captain Denny’s death. It is a great shock to us all but be assured that it will be kept from Master Fitzwilliam until Mr Darcy feels it right to talk to him and tell him as much as a child needs to know. Have no fear, madam; there will be no housemaids carrying gossip into the nursery.”
As they left, Darcy expressed his relief and gratitude that Elizabeth had broken the news to Georgiana and that his sister had received it with no more distress than was natural, but Elizabeth sensed that his old doubts and worries had resurfaced, and that he would have been happier if Georgiana could have been spared any news which would recall her to the past.
A little before eight Elizabeth and Darcy entered the breakfast room to find that the only guest at the largely untasted meal was Henry Alveston, and although a great deal of coffee was drunk, little of the usual breakfast of eggs, home cured bacon, sausages and kidneys left on the sideboard beneath their silver domes was touched.
It was an awkward meal and the air of constraint, so unusual when they were all together, was not helped by the arrival of the colonel and, minutes later, of Georgiana. She took her seat between Alveston and the colonel, and as Alveston was helping her to coffee, said, “Perhaps after breakfast, Elizabeth, we could get started on the letters. If you would decide on the wording I can begin the copies. All the guests can have the same letter and surely it need only be brief.”
There was a silence which all felt to be uncomfortable, and then the colonel spoke to Darcy. “Surely Miss Darcy should leave Pemberley, and soon. It is inappropriate that she should have any part in this affair, or in any way be submitted to Sir Selwyn’s or the constables’ presumptive questioning.”
Georgiana was very pale but her voice was firm. “I would like to help.” She turned to Elizabeth. “You will be needed later in the morning in so many ways but if you will give me the wording I can write for you and you would only need to sign the letters.”
Alveston broke in. “An excellent plan. Only the briefest note will be necessary.” He turned to Darcy. “Permit me to be of service, sir. If I could have a fast horse and a spare I could help deliver the letters. As a stranger to most of the guests I should better be able to avoid explanations which would delay a member of the family. If Miss Darcy and I could together consider a local map, we could work out the quickest and most rational route. Some houses with close neighbours who have also been invited might take responsibility for spreading the news.”
Elizabeth reflected that a number of them would undoubtedly take pleasure in the task. If anything could compensate for the loss of the ball it would be the drama that was unfolding at Pemberley. Some of their friends would certainly grieve at the anxiety everyone at Pemberley must be feeling and would hasten to write letters of condolence and assurances of support, and she told herself firmly that many of these would arise from a genuine affection and concern. She must not allow cynicism to disparage the impulses of compassion and love.
But Darcy was speaking, his voice cold. “My sister will have no part in this. She is not concerned in any of it and it is totally inappropriate that she should be.”
Georgiana’s voice was gentle but equally firm. “But Fitzwilliam, I am concerned. All of us are.”
Before he could reply, the colonel broke in. He said, “It is important, Miss Georgiana, that you should not remain at Pemberley until this matter has been fully investigated. I shall be writing by express to Lady Catherine this evening and I have no doubt she will speedily invite you to Rosings. I know that you do not particularly like the house and that the invitation will to some extent be unwelcome, but it is your brother’s wish that you go where you will be safe and where neither Mr nor Mrs Darcy need have any anxiety about your safety and welfare. I am sure that with your good sense you will see the wisdom – indeed the propriety – of what is proposed.”
Ignoring him, Georgiana turned to Darcy. “You need have no anxiety. Please do not ask me to leave. I only wish to be of use to Elizabeth and I hope I can be. I cannot see that there is any impropriety in that.”
It was then that Alveston intervened. “Forgive me, sir, but I feel I must speak. You discuss what Miss Darcy should do as if she were a child. We have entered the nineteenth century; we do not need to be a disciple of Mrs Wollstonecraft to feel that women should not be denied a voice in matters that concern them. It is some centuries since we accepted that a woman has a soul. Is it not time that we accepted that she also has a mind?”
The colonel took a moment to control himself. He said, “I suggest, sir, that you save your diatribe for the Old Bailey.”
Darcy turned to Georgiana. “I was thinking only of your welfare and happiness. Of course, if you wish, you must stay; Elizabeth will, I know, be glad of your help.”
Elizabeth had been sitting quietly wondering whether she could speak without making matters worse. Now she said, “Very glad indeed. I must be available for Sir Selwyn Hardcastle when he arrives and I do not see how the necessary letters can be delivered in time unless I have help. So shall we make a start?”
Thrusting back his chair with some force, the colonel made a stiff bow to Elizabeth and Georgiana, then left the room.
Alveston stood up and spoke to Darcy. “I must apologise, sir, for intervening in a family matter which is not my concern. I spoke inadvisably and with more force than was either courteous or wise.”
Darcy said, “The apology is due to the colonel rather than to me. Your comments may have been inappropriate and presumptuous but that does not mean that they were not true.” He turned to Elizabeth. “If you could settle the question of the letters now, my love, I think it is time for us to speak to the staff, both the indoor servants and those who may be working in the house. Mrs Reynolds and Stoughton will have told them only that there has been an accident and the ball has been cancelled, and there will be considerable alarm and anxiety. I will ring for Mrs Reynolds now and say that we will come down to speak to them in the servants’ hall as soon as you have drafted the letter for Georgiana to copy.”
5
Thirty minutes later Darcy and Elizabeth entered the servants’ hall to the sound of sixteen chairs being scraped back and a muttered “Good morning sir” in reply to Darcy’s greeting, spoken in a concerted murmur so low that it could hardly be heard. Elizabeth was struck by the expanse of newly starched and very white afternoon aprons and goffered caps before remembering that, under Mrs Reynolds’s directions, all the staff were impeccably dressed on the morning of Lady Anne’s ball. The air smelled of baking and a pervading savoury aroma; in the absence of orders to the contrary, some of the tarts and savouries must already be in the ovens. Passing an open door leading to the conservatory, Elizabeth had been almost overwhelmed by the sickly scent of the cut flowers; unwanted now, how many, she wondered, would be alive by Monday. She found herself thinking of what could best be done with the many birds plucked for roasting, the huge meat joints, the fruits from the greenhouses, the white soup and the syllabubs. Most would not yet be prepared but with no counter-instructions there would inevitably be a surplus which somehow must not be allowed to go to waste. It seemed an unreasonable anxiety at such a time, but it crowded in with a multitude of other concerns. Why did Colonel Fitzwilliam not mention his ride into the night and where he had been? He could hardly have taken merely a windblown ride by the river. And if Wickham were arrested and taken away, a possibility which no one had mentioned but each must know was almost certain, what would happen to Lydia? She was unlikely to want to stay at Pemberley, but it was necessary that she should be offered hospitality somewhere close to her husband. Perhaps the best plan and certainly the most convenient would
