Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Read online

  “Panache?” Fitzwilliam pondered, his brow arched. “Aye, he has that. But at the moment I was thinking more of his penchant for cream.”

  Darcy’s concealed a small traitorous smile and chanced to notice that, at his left, his aunt did likewise, so she must have also caught Fitzwilliam’s sly meaning.

  Mr Charles James Fox, he of the rousing speeches, was notorious for his shockingly lax upbringing. A snide little piece of gossip had long been aired at White’s as well as Brooks’s claiming that once, when he was barely breeched, he had been allowed – some said encouraged – to stomp to his heart’s content into a bowl of cream brought for the dessert course of one his father’s most fashionable dinner parties.

  Blissfully unaware of that, Lady Stretton lost none of her good humour; not even when, as though to reinforce his uncle’s point, the youngster smeared the cream tart over his face as he gulped it down, then reached for another. His doting mother affected not to notice. It was Lady Malvern who saw fit to intervene:

  “I should imagine it would only be fair for Hartfield to sit and picnic with his sisters, since they were not allowed to join us,” she observed and at that Lady Stretton bristled.

  “You think so, Ma’am? After all, he is older than Margaret.”

  ‘Yet more troublesome than Hetty,’ Darcy thought and was pleased to note that, although she often tolerated a great deal for the sake of family harmony, this time Lady Malvern did not withdraw her objections.

  With an air of ill usage, Lady Stretton sighed.

  “Go, Hart. See if any of the picnic fare takes your fancy,” she offered but, not surprisingly, her manifest reluctance gave young Hartfield sufficient licence to ignore her.

  “Now, now, Sir,” Fitzwilliam interjected, presumably at the limits of his patience. “You have received your marching orders, so be off with you!”

  The steely edge to his voice demanded more attention than Lady Stretton’s half-hearted instructions, and Hartfield glanced questioningly from one to the other.

  “Well, Sir, what are you waiting for?” Fitzwilliam snapped with the tone reserved for young recruits and, unaccustomed to such treatment, Hartfield started, although it was hard to say whether in surprise or indignation.

  Nevertheless, he grudgingly complied, and Lady Stretton sniffed.

  “I thank you for your support, Brother,” she smiled coldly. “I suppose a spirited nature such as Hart’s might sometimes benefit from such firm guidance.”

  “Indeed,” Fitzwilliam retorted curtly and returned to his cup of tea and his conversation with his mother, dismissing both his sister and her ill-bred son.

  From his place at the table he could no longer see young Hartfield anyway, but the same could not be said of Darcy, who could not fail to notice that the commotion had merely moved from the table to the picnic rug. The basket was ransacked, the food and silverware scattered and Miss Bennet’s temperate admonitions utterly ignored. Two pork pies and a buttered roll bought them a brief respite, but a few moments later his young lordship lounged and snatched one of the dolls that sat with Hetty, to be treated to choice morsels from her plate. The child gave a sharp cry of dismay and demanded its return, but the doll was thrust into the picnic basket and the lid shammed shut. Miss Bennet frowned.

  “What was the purpose of that, Hartfield? Pray give the doll back to your sister.”

  “I will not. I need it.”

  “Whatever for? Besides, it is not yours and you should return it.”

  “I have not asked for your opinion,” Lord Hartfield loftily shot back in a manner so reminiscent of his mother that Darcy might have laughed, had he not been so vexed.

  “Yet you shall have it nonetheless,” was the calm reply. “You must return the doll to your sister and ask her pardon, then sit with us and chat as we finish our picnic.”

  “That would be trite in the extreme,” Hartfield enunciated, his vocabulary clearly not as deficient as his manners.

  Instead of taking rightful offence, his companion laughed.

  “Perhaps. But a gentleman should practise from an early age to navigate the triteness of civil conversation.”

  Despite himself, a brief smile fluttered on Darcy’s lips. He might have grown to bear the drawing rooms of the ton more cheerfully, had his own nanny espoused similar views.

  Two seats down, he saw Lady Stretton frown at the exchange, presumably disliking the candid admission that civil conversations could be trite or disapproving of levity in general. He turned to Georgiana to squeeze her hand and inquire into her time at Malvern House in more detail, when Hartfield loudly recaptured his attention.

  “I certainly will not return the silly thing! ‘Tis not a doll, but a dragon in a castle,” he declared, attacking the picnic basket with a butter knife, “and I am St George, the vanquisher of dragons.”

  The lid flew open under the assault, triggering further pandemonium. The ‘dragon’ was dragged out of its lair and slain with St George’s mighty butter knife. Miss Hetty wailed. Miss Bennet rose to kneel before ‘St George’ and clasped her hands upon his elbows, only to receive a vicious kick. Her eyes tightened in pain or vexation or very likely both and, little as it was their place to interfere, both Darcy and Fitzwilliam made to stand; but Lady Stretton had already left her seat and the gentlemen sunk back into theirs, exchanging long glances of contemptuous frustration.

  “Better later than never, I suppose,” Lady Malvern soothingly murmured, the only one disposed to take a milder view of Lady Stretton’s tardiness in doing her duty.

  Yet the gentlemen’s contempt turned to sheer outrage when Lady Stretton’s remonstrations reached them.

  “This is the second time, Miss Bennet, that I am forced to tell you that Lord Hartfield is not to be physically restrained,” she hissed.

  Their outrage was mirrored for a moment in the young lady’s countenance and her eyes narrowed, but she subdued the flash of temper and slowly stood, hands behind her back. Lady Stretton resumed:

  “You must find better ways to bring your point across, or you will leave me with no other choice but to release you from your current position. I have always known that engaging you on a milliner’s recommendation was a grave error. John, pray escort Lord Hartfield above stairs and convey my apologies to my husband, but Mr Howard is needed in the schoolroom. Miss Bennet, take the young ladies to the nursery. I trust you will be able to ensure there is no further mischief. And–… What is it, Hetty? I do wish you would not tug my sleeve, nor interrupt. This is the sort of conduct you were employed to check, Miss Bennet.”

  “Mamma… My doll?” Hetty pressed her point, undaunted.

  “You have half a dozen above stairs. I shall never know why you must make a fuss about this one in particular, but no more of this, I cannot bear it. Hart, pray let her have it.”

  Clearly pleased with himself and the day’s work, Hartfield obeyed without demur, and Lady Stretton did not miss the opportunity to pointedly remark:

  “You see, Miss Bennet? One only needs know how to ask. Pray go up now, all of you, we have had enough excitement,” she waved them off and, as soon as she was obeyed, she returned to the orangery and took her seat with an exaggerated sigh.

  “The trials and tribulations of a mother! Pray forgive the need to address domestic matters in your hearing. None of this would have happened had Miss Harding not been taken ill. She cannot resume her duties a moment too soon, in my opinion. Such a sterling governess, so reliable and proper. One always knows where one is with long-trusted servants, rather than headstrong young women who have never been in service. But we shall say no more of this, Lady Malvern, I know you have only acted with the best intentions. Well, shall we go indoors now? ‘Tis getting rather chilly,” she blithely added, claiming the role of hostess yet again and failing or disdaining to acknowledge that the frosty atmosphere around her had nothing to do with the waning May sun.

  CHAPTER 2

  Across from him, Georgiana sat distractedly spooning at her syll
abub, occasionally casting uncertain glances from him to Fitzwilliam, and Darcy eyed her closer, suddenly recognising all the signs. She had something to ask him and was unsure as to how to go about it, he determined, and leaned back in his seat.

  “What is it, Georgiana?” he prompted kindly, but for all the careful softness of his tone, she started.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You have something on your mind. Would you not share it?”

  “I… You saw it rightly, Brother,” she finally ventured. “I do have something I wished to speak to you of. You see, for some time now I have been thinking… When I am taken from Mrs Rossiter’s school could you not engage Miss Bennet to be my companion?”

  This was a surprise. He had expected nothing of the sort. In fact, he knew not what he had expected, nor what to make of Georgiana’s unprecedented wish to have a say in arrangements that had for years been left to him, and him alone. Darcy cleared his voice and pushed his tarte aux abricots aside.

  “What makes you ask that? I though the matter was already settled.”

  Georgiana winced.

  “Pray tell me you have not offered the post to Mrs Younge!”

  “Not yet. But I was about to do so. Very soon.”

  “Brother, if you do not mind me saying… I would much rather you did not.”

  “Why? What have you against her?”

  “I know not… I truly cannot say. Just that she has a sharp, shrewish look that terrifies me.”

  Darcy smiled, suddenly reminded of the five-year-old girl with flaxen hair who insisted there were goblins hiding in her closet.

  “You need not have her for a companion if you do not wish it. We can easily find somebody else.”

  “Why not Miss Bennet?” Georgiana asked, uncommonly persistent and, from his own seat across the small oval table, Fitzwilliam chose that precise moment to speak up.

  “Indeed, Cousin. Why not?”

  Darcy frowned at him.

  “Are you in earnest? I am seeking to employ an experienced companion for my sister, not a child’s playmate.”

  Abashed, Georgiana bit her lip.

  “I know you still regard me as a child, Brother, but– ”

  “This was not my meaning, sweetling,” Darcy promptly reassured her. “Forgive me, dearest, I had no wish to distress you. I tend to be more forceful with Fitzwilliam than I ought to, in your company at least,” he smiled. “Perhaps you should leave us to discuss this and I promise to be more congenial when we come to find you in the drawing room.”

  Unaccustomed to refusing a pointed request, Georgiana stood to leave and would have, were it not for her cousin’s intervention.

  “I think you should let her stay, Darcy. After all, ‘tis her companion we are discussing,” he sensibly observed.

  With some reluctance, Darcy conceded him the point, and Georgiana hastily resumed her seat before he could reconsider.

  “So, little one,” Fitzwilliam asked her first, “you would choose Miss Bennet?”

  “I would,” Georgiana replied swiftly. “She is kind and warm and delightful company in every way.”

  “She is Hetty and Margaret’s nursemaid,” Darcy interjected, and Fitzwilliam chuckled.

  “You are being purposely difficult again, but I daresay ‘tis part of your unfailing charm. You know as well as I do that Miss Bennet is not a nursemaid. She has been employed as a governess to replace that paragon, Miss Harding.”

  “And will probably be dismissed without a character as soon as Miss Harding is recovered,” Georgiana ventured to have her say.

  “Or worse still, kept on under Miss Harding’s thumb, as though it were not bad enough to contend with Lady Stretton,” Fitzwilliam added.

  Darcy cast a stern glance from one to the other.

  “Have the pair of you made a pact to be Miss Bennet’s champions? She might be in need of this, I grant you, and I will not scruple to say that Lady Stretton’s treatment of her is disgraceful, but truly, Fitzwilliam, have we set out to choose a companion for Georgiana or to rescue Miss Bennet from your sister’s clutches?”

  “The two are not necessarily mutually exclusive,” Fitzwilliam observed, and Darcy gave a derisive snort.

  “You can never resist playing the part of the knight in shining armour, that I know of old, but on this occasion would you at least try to have Georgiana’s best interest at heart?”

  Fitzwilliam turned in his seat to glance at his younger cousin.

  “On second thought, little one, maybe you should leave us for a while and let me talk some sense into your brother.”

  There was no dissent this time, not even from a slightly uncomfortable Georgiana, and before long the gentlemen had the dining room to themselves. Darcy refilled their glasses and, nursing his, he grumbled:

  “I wish you would not undermine me before her with this sort of flippant talk.”

  “Honestly, Darcy! Nothing I say could ever undermine you in her eyes. Have you not noticed that she worships you? In fact, if you ask me, I think you should hop off that pedestal someday, before you fall off, but that is a wholly different matter.”

  “I did not ask you. But that has never stopped you, has it?”

  “Not that I can remember,” Fitzwilliam grinned, then sobered. “So, to return to the matter at hand, what are your objections to Miss Bennet?”

  “The first of many is her inexperience. This is her first position, I am told. What would she know about guiding and protecting a young woman of good fortune? Admittedly she is very good with Margaret and Hetty, but Georgiana’s companion must have a great deal more to recommend her than a kind heart and a cheerful disposition.”

  “For my part I find that her cheerfulness and open manner would be a sterling influence. You said yourself that Georgiana needs more friends her own age.”

  “Her age is an impediment as well – Miss Bennet’s, that is. She seems far too young, barely out of the schoolroom herself. I cannot imagine she is more than four or five years older than Georgiana.”

  “Very likely,” Fitzwilliam nodded. “What of it?”

  “How can she act as chaperone when she is but a few years older? I would have to engage another, to chaperone my sister as well as her companion.”

  “What is to stop you? You can certainly afford to. As I see it, Darcy,” he added, before the other had a chance to interrupt, “with Georgiana but fifteen, she does not need instruction in the niceties of the ton, nor in standards of ladylike behaviour. Mrs Rossiter’s finishing school has already seen to the latter and as for the first, ‘tis premature. She can have an older and more experienced lady at her side when she is preparing for her coming-out. But for the next two years or so she will be at Pemberley or, when in town, she will spend most of her time in the library, the music room or in the garden. Do you not think it would be greatly to her advantage to do so in youthful and light-hearted company, rather than with yet another person decades older than herself?”

  Darcy toyed with his wineglass as he considered the reasonably valid point. Many were taken in by Fitzwilliam’s swagger and easygoing manner, and few knew that underneath there was sterling commonsense along with fierce loyalty and a will of iron. He had always had a way of cutting straight to the heart of the matter, which must have been one of the reasons he had been chosen as the second trustee of Georgiana’s welfare.

  Bowing to his departed father’s wisdom and to Fitzwilliam’s as well, Darcy looked up.

  “Very well. I shall consider her as an option. Tell Miss Bennet to come and see me on her day off, if you would.”

  “If Lady Stretton grants her one,” Fitzwilliam snorted, then added, “I will do better. I will bring her myself.”

  Darcy eyed him warily.

  “Pray tell me you are not about to make a fool of yourself over a damsel in distress,” he urged, but Fitzwilliam merely chuckled.

  He reached for his glass and drained it, then offered blithely:

  “Georgiana must be worried that w
e are at each other’s throats. Let us put her dear heart at ease.”

  Another suspicious glance was his only answer, as Darcy stood to follow his cousin out of the dining room.

  * * * *

  Fitzwilliam returned a few days later, bringing not Miss Bennet but Lady Malvern, who lost no time in sitting them both down for a lecture, as though they were still two wayward boys.

  “Richard tells me that the pair of you have laid your plans,” she began without preamble as soon as refreshments were brought in and the tea poured.

  “And you disapprove,” Darcy observed matter-of-factly.

  “I would not go that far. The scheme has some degree of merit, but I was wondering if you have considered all the implications.”

  “Such as?”

  “Lady Stretton, to begin with. She will have a thing or two to say.”

  “She always has a great deal to say about matters that do not concern her,” Darcy scoffed.

  “One would argue that at least on this occasion she is an interested party. The girl is after all employed to mind her daughters.”

  “Not for long, if last Wednesday’s shameful display is any indication.”

  Lady Malvern sighed.

  “I might have done the poor girl a disservice when I suggested she be employed to ease Miss Harding’s burden, seeing as she was so dreadfully unwell– ”

  “Oh? I did not know it was at your suggestion.”

  “I wonder how you missed it, Darcy,” Fitzwilliam spoke up from his seat. “Lady Stretton lost no opportunity to slyly point out that my mother might have acted with the best intentions, but a milliner is not a good recommendation.”

  Darcy raised a brow.

  “Milliner?”

  “Aye,” Lady Malvern elaborated. “My milliner is acquainted with Miss Bennet’s aunt, a Mrs Gardiner. She told me that she knew of a young lady who was seeking a position and we needed someone to assist Miss Harding and… well, it seemed a suitable arrangement for the girls.”

  “And so it is. Margaret and Hetty are delighted with her and Lady Stretton should have the good sense to recognise it,” Fitzwilliam volunteered, then fell silent under Darcy’s quelling stare.