Chapter Six Back to Previous Chapter As she dressed the next morning, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of Lady Anne’s portrait in the mirror. “I hope I am acquitting myself as you would have liked,” she murmured. “Ma’am?” asked the puzzled maidservant, who was hanging up Elizabeth’s nightdress on the other side of the room. “Never mind,” said Elizabeth. “And I am sure that the servants never caught you talking to yourself,” she said to the portrait when the girl was gone. Later in the morning, she went to the nursery. The children were all quietly occupied; the younger girl and boy were playing together companionably, and the elder girl was working her sampler with diligence if not much skill. Miss Thomas was bent over a book with the elder boy, a stout and precocious little fellow of five. “Lizzy,” he said as she entered the room, “I can read.” “Can you, Ned? That’s capital. You shall read for me later.” “Miss Thomas taught me.” “Then Miss Thomas should be congratulated for civilizing a wild beast like you.” She hugged and kissed her little cousin, who wriggled out of her grasp and ran to join his brother. “They are such sweet children,” said the governess, “it is a pleasure to teach them.” “They are sweet children, but quite active. I confess myself astonished that you are able to get them to sit still long enough to learn anything.” “Oh, no,” Miss Thomas protested, “they really are very obedient.” “Then they have changed a great deal since the last time I saw them; or perhaps their obedience is owing to your skill as a governess.” Miss Thomas just smiled; Elizabeth was glad that she did not disclaim her obvious accomplishments. She liked such false modesty no better than her husband. “I have come to issue an invitation. Mr. Darcy and I would very much like for you to dine with us for the rest of your stay. I know that most of our party are unknown to you, and if you would prefer to take your meals in the nursery, I would understand perfectly.” “I am very fond of company, ma’am; and I should very much like to join you tonight. I thank you for the kind invitation.” “Excellent! We dine at six o’clock.” “I look forward to it, Mrs. Darcy.” Elizabeth wished she could ask the governess to use her Christian name, but it would not do for the mistress of Pemberley to be so familiar with a governess. That was not The Pemberley Way. The quickest way from the nursery to the public rooms went through the picture gallery. Elizabeth stopped to look at her husband’s portrait, taken a year or two before his father had died. In face and figure, he was not much different now; he had filled out a little across the shoulders and chest, perhaps. She looked up at the portrait for some time, until she was confronted with its subject, accompanied by several hounds that he had been exercising. The dogs gamboled about Elizabeth’s feet, licking her hands and putting themselves forward to be petted. Darcy glanced up at the wall of paintings and said, “You should sit for a portrait. I would like to see you up there; and perhaps a miniature for my dressing room.” “If you like.” She looked at his face. Yes, that was the difference; though the smile in the portrait was familiar—she often raised it herself—there was a gravity in his expression that was not owned by the young man in the portrait, who had not the responsibilities of the present Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth remembered Georgiana’s words: He was different before my father died; he was more lighthearted. He joked and laughed more. Elizabeth knew the concerns that her husband carried, and her heart went out to him. “Are you fatigued by having all these people in the house?” she asked him. “Not at all. It reminds me of my childhood; the house was always full at Christmas when my mother was still with us.” “I hope I have arranged everything as she would have. I feel as though I guard the reputation of Pemberley with every dinner menu.” “Pemberley is your home now, Elizabeth; your arrangements are your own.” He paused a moment, and then said, “You should wear yellow, as you are now, when you sit for your portrait.” His voice deepened. “You look like a summer morning.” It was a moment of loving intimacy very like those they had shared during their courtship, and Elizabeth stepped closer to Darcy, hoping for a kiss. They were alone in the gallery; no servants about to see and carry gossip belowstairs, no errant guest to interrupt a private moment between husband and wife. She reached up to touch his face, wishing she could smooth away the cares written upon his brow; wishing she could bring back the younger Darcy in the portrait; wishing he would take her in his arms. Instead, he took her hand in his own and kissed it; the most ardent expression of affection that she could expect outside their bedchamber. His smile was warm as he left her, and very like the one in the portrait that hung above, but Elizabeth still felt a chill pass over her. Georgiana was practicing on her pianoforte, and the music swelled and crashed as Elizabeth came near the drawing room. It was an impressive piece, worthy of a concert hall; the girl’s fingers flew across the keys, now thundering in harsh harmony, now dropping the notes as softly as rain upon new grass. When she was finished, she sat at the pianoforte, staring down at the keyboard and breathing heavily. “That was splendid, my love,” said Elizabeth softly. “Please say that you will play that for us tonight.” Georgiana did not look around or otherwise acknowledge her sister-in-law’s presence, but she said, “I cannot play that piece for company.” “I think Monty would like it. He has a real appreciation for fine music.” “Monty is out walking with Miss Bingley.” She struck a few discordant notes to punctuate her words; Elizabeth had never heard such bitterness from Georgiana. “I am astonished that she risks her complexion in this cold weather; and no less astonished at your cousin’s taste.” “He cannot get away from her,” Georgiana cried. “She is always picking at him, the same way that she picked at my brother, when she had set her cap for him. You would not credit the way she would toad-eat me, Elizabeth, as though I was too stupid to realize that she was only friendly to me because she was trying to ingratiate herself with my brother.” “I saw her activities in that quarter at first hand. Caroline did not succeed with your brother, and I dare say she will fare no better with Monty.” “I am sure I do not care if she does.” “Oh, I think you do care, Georgiana.” The girl’s shoulders straightened; she lifted her chin and began to play another piece, quieter and steadier than the first. “I dare say it shall pass.” After a moment, Elizabeth left her, wondering at these Darcys and their notions of love. To Be Continued ~ Table of Contents By A Lady Comment on this story Home ~ Site Map ~ Contact Original Images and Content Copyright © 2003-2004 by Margaret C. Sullivan. All Rights Reserved.