A picnic from The Vicar’s Daughter

The Vicar of Kympton–excerpt #2

Darcy slowly descending the grand stairs, steeling himself for those inevitably awkward moments in the drawing room when everyone was standing about stupidly waiting for something to begin. The situation inevitably begged for some conversation, but not a great deal, just enough to fill the empty space. Even so, he never knew what to say.

Still Georgiana deserved the sacrifice. She had worked diligently to plan this picnic—the first social event of her making—and Mrs. Reynolds had assured him she had done well. Thank heavens for that. He could not allow her to fail—now especially. But she would not have welcomed his interference. It would be well; it would be well. Certainly, none of his company had anything to gain by bringing Georgiana down.

He tugged his jacket straighter and dusted off his sleeves. With a deep breath, he plunged into the drawing room. He paused a moment in the door way, allowing his eyes to adjust to the sunlight from the open windows in the room.

Usually he liked the drawing room, with its formality and understood rules. The graceful, elegant mahogany furnishing his mother had placed there, and the serene burgundy fabrics always centered him, reminded him this was to sort of place that was safe, where he understood expectations and could perform to them satisfactorily. But today, there were too many uncontrolled possibilities for him to feel at ease.

No! Botheration! Why did the Bennets have the ill-manners to arrive before he was downstairs? Now they were sitting between the Garlands and Georgiana. No, that was not a fair thought—their timeliness was a show of good manners, even if it was precisely what he least wanted. The Bennets were decent enough people and even stimulating company. But they could be so improper. What would the Garlands—Miss Garland—think of them? Of him for permitting them to be invited? Certainly, they could not be the sort of company Miss Garland usually kept.

“Mr. Darcy!” Mr. Bennet grabbed his cane and slowly rose. “Thank you for your generous invitation.”

All five Bennet daughters rose and curtsied.

How did one manage five young ladies in a household when just one threatened to drive him barking mad?

“I am pleased you have joined us.” It was the right thing to say, even if it were not entirely sincere.

“Come and sit with us.” Georgiana patted the space beside her on the settee she shared with Miss Elizabeth and Miss Garland.

How opposite the two women were. One dark and petite with a ready smile and good humor in her eyes. The other fair and stately, controlled and serene. Perhaps Miss Garland would be a good influence on Miss Elizabeth.

The eldest Miss Bennet sat near Garland, in a pair of chairs with their backs to the windows. She looked well beside him—she was the most attractive of the sisters to be sure, and her manners far more correct than Miss Elizabeth’s, if less interesting.

Darcy sat beside Georgiana.

“You sister was just telling us of all she had planned today,” Mr. Bingley said.

Darcy started. How had he missed Bingley’s presence in the room? “Do not let me stop you.”

Georgiana clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Well, before we eat, I thought we might have a go at some archery and even a game of rounders.”

Rounders? Darcy fought not to grimace visibly.

“Do you shoot Miss Elizabeth?” Miss Garland leaned forward slightly, her low bodice struggling to contain her assets.

“A little.” Miss Elizabeth turned aside, as though to avoid the topic.

“But she is very good indeed.” Miss Kitty sat near Mr. Bingley. “We have all said she could probably hunt very well.”

“Our Uncle and Aunt support her membership in the Hertfordshire archery society,” Miss Lydia added.

“Kitty!” Miss Elizabeth glowered at her.

“I am all anticipation.” Miss Garland smiled broadly and relaxed into the couch.

Garland chuckled and crossed his ankles as he leaned back. “Indeed, my sister has quite a penchant for the bow, Generally, she has had very little competition to test her skill against. She is a member of the British Amazons. She won several prizes when she recently shot with them, when we were last in London.”

“I hope she is a gracious loser then.” Miss Lydia giggled as her shoulders turned this way and that.

“Lydia!” Miss Bennet rarely ever sounded so sharp.

Darcy’s cheeks flushed. Could Bennet not keep his younger girls in check.

“I do not mind.”   Miss Garland laughed—she laughed! “I find it rather endearing that they would be so supportive of an elder sister.”

“They are very generous in their support, but I am sure I shall learn a great deal from you, Miss Garland.” Miss Elizabeth shot a warning glance at her youngest sisters.

The hair at the back of Darcy’s neck eased. At least Miss Garland did not evidence discomfort for the outbursts.

“Do the rest of you shoot?” Garland asked, looking at Miss Bennet.

“Only a little and very ill indeed.” Miss Bennet bowed her head and blushed prettily.

“But we dearly love a good game of rounders.” Miss Lydia bounced a little in her seat.

Darcy opened his mouth but Miss Garland cut him off. “I have not played that in years. What a jolly good idea.”

Darcy winced. The impropriety of ladies running!

“Did I hear something about Rounders?” Fitzwilliam led Anne and Miss Bingley into the room.

“Indeed, you did.” Garland stood and offered a small bow from his shoulders. “Right after we observe a most intriguing archery competition.”

“Indeed sir,” Anne batted her eyes.

Oh, that was an unpleasant expression. Pray let her stop that soon.

“With whom will you be competing?”

“Now that is an interesting notion.” Garland raise his brows at his sister and clucked his tongue.

She nodded.

“I believe I shall shoot against the winner of the contest between my sister and Miss Elizabeth.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows rose high. “No offense, madam, but in all fairness, you should know of the longstanding rivalry—and accuracy of these two. He is a champion among the Kentish Bowmen.” He leaned against the mantelpiece.

“Do you wish release from the contest?” Miss Garland extended an open hand. “I shall not be offended if you so choose.”

Miss Elizabeth smiled her enigmatic smile. What was she thinking behind that expression?

“My courage only rises with each attempt to intimidate me.”

Miss Mary who had remained silent until now clapped softly.

Oh botheration—he had not introduced the Bennets to the Miss Bingley or Anne.

Georgiana stood. “May I introduce my friends…”

Darcy’s face heated and he pressed his temples. A headache right now would be a delightfully convenient way to avoid further blunders.

“Since that’s attended to, lead us onward, Miss Darcy. I am anxious for the challenge.” Garland offered Georgiana his arm.

 

A cool breeze whispered through the hardwoods, sharing its secret that the afternoon would be mild and comfortable and largely perfect for their plans as they made their way to Georgiana’s arrangements. She had chosen well. The dappled shade of the far lawn offered the ideal spot for archery.

Targets were already set, about twenty five yards from a shooting line, as well as chairs and blankets for the audience. Georgiana had done an excelled job considering her guests comfort. He would have to tell her that.

“Do you shoot, Miss Darcy?” Garland asked.

“Only a little.” She bit her lower lip and gazed up at him.

“What? Fitzwilliam has not taught you?”

Fitzwilliam snorted. “I have, but she is not proficient.”

“To be proficient, one must practice and practice you shall! Let us have you and Miss Bingley shoot first.” Garland gestured toward them.

“I do not know how.” Miss Bingley paused and edged back a small step. The woman rarely appeared so uncertain of how to respond.

“What say you Darcy—show her how.” Garland pointed at him.

Darcy shook his head vigorously. “Bingley may—”

“I have no skill with a bow.”

“I will instruct you.” Fitzwilliam bowed.

The last thing Darcy needed was anything that might raise Miss Bingley’s sites to him. He suppressed a shudder. Fine manners, fine dowry but good at finding fault with others. Not the sort of woman he needed running his home and trying to run him.

They proceeded to a table near the shooting line which held braces, shooting gloves, bows, and arrows. Georgiana fasted the protective leather brace to her forearm and slipped on the shooting glove while Fitzwilliam instructed Miss Bingley on how to do the same.

Two arrows flew, neither hitting the target or even getting close. Georgiana and Miss Bingley tittered. Two more flew with no success. Georgiana’s face formed into a familiar frustrated scowl. Darcy braced himself. No doubt a show of her temper would be soon to come. Botheration! Everything had been going so well.

Miss Elizabeth hurried to Georgiana’s side. “I think I see your trouble.” She stood behind Georgiana, covering her hands with hers, guiding her position. “Here you must line up the arrow with the mark on the bow and your target. Now hold this arm very straight and just release your fingers gently.”

Thunk. The arrow quivered in the outer ring of the target.

“I hit it!” Georgiana cried.

“Well done, Miss Darcy and Miss Elisabeth. You make a fine teacher.” Garland crossed his arms and nodded.

Miss Elizabeth blushed. “Thank you. Forgive me for—”

“Not at all.”

Darcy harrumphed. She had never blushed like that when he spoke to her.

“May I try again.” Georgiana reached for another arrow.

Garland stepped back. She let fly another arrow that landed at the very edged of the target. “Well done, Miss Darcy. Let us see what your pupil can do, Fitz.”

Miss Bingley missed again, her face tightening into something very displeased.

“Perhaps Miss Elizabeth’s guidance might help.” Miss Garland suggested, dipping her head toward Miss Elizabeth.

“Thank you, no. I believe I shall keep to the pianoforte.” Miss Bingley handed the bow back to Fitzwilliam, stripped off glove and brace, and stepped away from the firing line.

“Do you wish to shoot again?” Garland asked.

Georgiana turned to Miss Elizabeth. “No, I would like to see Miss Elizabeth and Miss Garland. I did not know Miss Elizabeth was so adept, and I want to see more.”

“As would I.” He handed the bow to Miss Elizabeth. She smiled at Garland. She was pretty when she smiled. “The targets are rather close, though, I dare say they will not be much challenge for either of you.”

“Will you go first, Miss Garland?” Miss Elizabeth gestured at her.

“Sizing up the competition? Very shrewd of you” Miss Garland raised her bow.

Valkyrie, definitely a Valkyrie.

Five arrows flew, each landing in the center rings of the target.

Applause rose from the spectators.

“She will be a challenge for you Lizzy.” Miss Lydia called.

“You will do very well indeed my dear.” Mr. Bennet said.

Miss Elizabeth seemed to ignore the encouragement. “Excellently done, Miss Garland.” The light in her eyes and lilt in her voice bespoke the authenticity of her praise.  She never hesitated to offer praise.

Miss Elizabeth lifted her bow. Her arrows flew as true as Miss Garlands, filling the center of the target.

Garland applauded. “At last, you will have to work for your victory dear sister.”

“I suppose I shall. Well done. Miss Elizabeth. Shall we increase the challenge?”

“Another ten paces?”

“Fifty yards? That will do nicely.” Miss Garland glanced at her brother.

“Come help me Fitz. The fair maidens have spoken.” Garland strode toward the targets.

Fitzwilliam trotted after him. “I think your sister more apt than simply a fair maiden.”

“Do you not know better than to tease an armed woman.”  Garland chuckled and winked over his shoulder at his sister.

“Are you saying we are too unsteady to be trusted with so dangerous an object in our hands.” Miss Garland nudged Miss Elizabeth with her elbow.

“Not at all my dear. I only suggest such an intriguing creature should be appreciated, venerated…”

Miss Garland rolled her eyes. “Feel free to ignore my brother, Miss Elizabeth. He fancies he inherited wittiness along with his title.”

The younger Bennet sisters tittered behind them.

Miss Elizabeth tipped her head, her cheeks very flushed. At least someone else had the grace to be embarrassed by the levity.

Fitzwilliam and Garland left the targets and returned to the shooting line.

“Is that to your satisfaction? Garland handed arrows to his sister.

Miss Garland tipped her head. “You should shoot first this time, Miss Elizabeth.”

“As you will, Miss Garland.” She raised her bow and released five arrows, one after the other, with silent grace.

If Miss Garland was a Valkyrie, Miss Bennet might well be Artemis, her posture and her stance as perfect as a classical statue.

Before she could set her bow aside, Miss Garland filled the target with her own arrows.

“Wait, wait,” Garland called. “I believe there is one of yours just outside the third ring. Let me see.” He ran to the target and pulled out the arrow in question and peered at the hole it left. He retrieved the remainder of the arrows. “Miss Elizabeth has bested you sister.” He presented her an arrow. “This one has betrayed you my dear.”

She curtsied to him and handed him her bow. “Do not gloat yet, brother dear. You may yet find yourself humbled.”

“Do you care to put a small wager on that, Blanche?”

Miss Elizabeth’s brow creased and she shook her head.

“Indeed, if Miss Elizabeth loses to you, I shall play the piece you have hounded me to play for you.”

“Your composition?” Garland grinned.

“Indeed. But when Miss Elizabeth bests you, as I know she shall, you shall share with us your new play. Allow us to perform it here, among our party!” Miss Garland lifted her head slightly as though she had already won.

“You know very well I do not allow anyone to see my unfinished work.”

“Then concede to Miss Elizabeth now and declare her your superior.”

“That remains unproven.”

“Then take my wager.” Miss Garland folded her arms across her waist and waited.

Miss Elizabeth bit her lip and looked toward her father.

Could they not see her discomfort? Darcy cleared his throat.

“Very well, I shall look forward to hearing your new piece tonight.” He turned to Miss Elizabeth. “Shall we make this a touch more interesting? I shall shoot first. You place your arrow next to mine, then I next to you. Whoever remains truest to the line shall be declared the winner.”

“As you say, sir.”

“Now that is a good sport!” Bingley, Anne and Miss Bingley whispered between themselves. Miss Garland slipped through them, a shrewish gleam in her eyes. How was it she had so little pleasure in the company of women so much more her equal than Miss Elizabeth?

Garland let the first shot fly. “Set the line Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy peered at the target, jumping only slightly when her shot landed a finger width from his. Her form was near perfect.

Garland’s brows shot up, but he should not be surprised near perfect form should produce such results. He fitted his bow again.

Her own shot quickly followed until a nearly straight line of arrows stood quivering in the target.

Fitzwilliam nudged Darcy with his elbow. “Help me judge.”

They trotted to the distant target. Both were remarkable shots.

“Garland will not believe this. Help me carry this in.”

They brought the target near the firing line.

Miss Garland applauded. “I told you Alex, you should never have doubted. Brava Miss Elizabeth you have brought my brother to a much-needed place of humility.”

Garland bowed deeply. Congratulations Miss Elizabeth. I shall bear my defeat graciously I assure you.”

Miss Elizabeth’s face flushed and she looked everywhere but at Garland. “Perhaps we should find another amusement? Lawn Bowling perhaps? Or that game of rounders or shall we eat Miss Darcy?”

Miss Garland took Miss Elizabeth’s arm. “No need for such modesty, my dear. He is not nearly so stricken as he would seem, for now he has captive players and an audience for his new work. It will give him a rare opportunity to refine his offering before presenting it to the theatre company next season.”

“What?” Darcy sputtered.

Fitzwilliam elbowed him hard and hissed in his ear. “If you had objections why did you not speak out earlier?”

“I did not consider it possible he would lose the bet.” Darcy glowered at Miss Elizabeth.

“You cannot forbid it now—it would be entirely unseemly of you.”

“Assuming of course, you, Mr. Bennet, do not object to your daughters participating in a home theatrical.” Garland gestured toward the vicar.

Bennet heaved himself up from the chair with the aid of his cane. “In principle I have no objections, sir, but I must be concerned with the specifics of the play. Is your work of good moral character? What values do you espouse? Is evil venerated and allowed to triumph as occurs in some modern works?”

“Although it is yet unfinished, I would call It cautionary tale against vice and excess.”

“Oh, now that sounds very dull indeed.” Miss Garland flicked her hand. “Perhaps it is not worth seeing at all.”

“She does have a point, too much moralizing is entirely off putting. I do not think It healthy for the soul, sir.” Bennet wagged a finger at him.

Garland threw his head back and laughed. “I have indeed been caught! Remind me not to practice my theater tricks with you. I think you will find it far more entertaining than mere moralizing, and my heroine shall, in the end make the right choice.”

Lydia clapped and bounced. “Who shall play your heroine?”

“There is only one appropriate to ask.” He bowed before Georgiana. “Our most gracious hostess. Will you take the role?”

“I … I …”

“Go ahead, Georgiana.” Fitzwilliam winked at her.

“I …” Darcy grumbled under his breath. Fitzwilliam stepped on is foot. “If my vicar approves, I can hardly do otherwise.”

 

Elizabeth is an archer and Georgiana and actress? What could possibly make this more complicated? Tell me in the comments.

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