Excerpt from my Work in Progress: Fortune and Felicity -6

Hello again. I hope everyone’s at home [if they can be] and keeping safe in these tough times. A big virtual hug to all of you who are feeling isolated and need a bit of cheering.

The anticipation is over. Elizabeth has an interview with Darcy. But how will the encounter go? A lot is at stake for Elizabeth here. Have fun!

Meanwhile, if you haven’t been following the story, you can read the Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Chapter 3 and Chapter 4 here.

Chapter 5

She would not let pride hold her back, Elizabeth told herself firmly as a pompous butler opened the door to the Darcy Townhouse. She was here for a position, and the fact that it was Mr. Darcy who was interviewing her should not make any difference. Elizabeth had not thought about Mr. Darcy for a long time, but coming here was a stark reminder of everything she had lost. She did her best not to dwell on it. She would rise to the challenge and she would not be flustered by what had happened during their last encounter.

As she stepped in, she was struck by the grandeur of the interior. The pattered white and black marble floor she would have expected, but the Doric columns, the white alabaster statues, and the exquisite intricacy of the gold paneling stopped her in her tracks. No less imposing was the magnificent marble staircase, with its mahogany banisters and the huge crystal chandelier that hung with dozens of candles. From the landing, a large picture of some of Darcy’s ancestors stared down at her in disapproval.

So this was Mr. Darcy’s townhouse! This is where she might have lived, had she not turned him down. I might have been mistress of this place, she thought, instead of applying for the humbling position of a governess.

“This way, Mrs. Heriot.”

The butler’s tone was polite, but there was a definite hint of condescension in his attitude. Or perhaps she was imagining it.

Stop it, Lizzy. She needed to acquire thicker skin if she was to be employed. Even though governesses were treated better than servants, they were still at the beck and call of their employers, and she had to accept that with grace and dignity. The lady at the Agency had said Mr. Darcy had interviewed several candidates, and she was the last of them. With so much competition, she had a daunting task before her. She had to convince Mr. Darcy that, despite his contempt for her family, she could still be a good companion to his daughter. She consoled herself that he would not have set up this interview if he wasn’t willing to consider her. Nevertheless, she could not shake off her qualms, and some small part of her worried that he intended to sneer at her with his friends Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst.

She would never succeed if she did not set aside all her prior conceptions of Mr. Darcy. Yes, he had dealt Jane a harsh blow, but that was a long time ago, and he could be very different now. Things had gone very badly with the Bennets since then, very badly indeed, so Mr. Darcy had not been entirely wrong to avoid association with her family.

Then the door opened, and the Butler intoned, “Mrs. Elizabeth Heriot.”

Mr. Darcy was sitting at his desk, his fingers steepled, which partially covered his face.  The window behind him was bright, and his back was turned to it, so his face was in the shadow, and she could not see him well. As she stepped in, he rose to his feet.

“Mrs. Heriot.”

He did not advance towards her. He remained behind his desk, standing so still he could have been a statue.

“Pray be seated,” he said.

He was as arrogant as she recalled. She couldn’t tell if he even remembered her, from the remote tone of his voice. It had never occurred to her that he would not. What if he had forgotten her entirely, or had not noticed that she was from Longbourn? Should she jog his memory, and draw attention to her unfortunate family, or should she leave him ignorant of who she was?

It would be dishonest not to remind him of their prior acquaintance.

“Mr. Darcy. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met many years ago in Meryton. You would have known me as Elizabeth Bennet.”

He bowed formally as she took a seat, and then sat down himself. “Yes. I do recall our prior acquaintance.”

She couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or not. His tone gave her no clues at all, and he had not yet looked at her. This was the same Mr. Darcy who had snubbed her so completely at the Meryton Assembly. She groaned inwardly. Convincing him was going to be even more difficult than she had anticipated.

***

Darcy was stunned that she could suppose he had forgotten her. Had she no idea of the effect she had had on him? He had spent the night worrying about this encounter, wondering if he was taking a risk by inviting her into his life. Had their interaction in Meryton meant so little to her, then? Had she consigned it all to a distant past? He struggled with the implications.

He was so involved in processing this astounding revelation that he forgot she was waiting for him to speak. He was supposed to be interviewing her for a position, confound it, not ruminating over the past.

Clearing his throat, he concentrated on the here and now. Picking up the paper in front of him, he looked it over slowly, reading over the few accomplishments that were listed. He already knew every word on the page, but it was a good excuse to avoid looking at her.

“It says here, Mrs. Heriot,” he said, emphasizing her married name in order to remind himself that this woman was completely different from the young lady he had loved all those years ago, “that you are well read.” It said nothing of the sort, but it would give her a chance to say something about herself. “Could you give me some examples of some of the books you have read?”

She began to talk. Her voice, at least, hadn’t changed, nor had her passion about reading. His mind drifted back to a day he believed he’d forgotten. They had been in the library at Netherfield. Hurst had mocked Elizabeth at some point because she preferred reading to playing cards, and there had been a discussion about everyone’s definition of an accomplished woman.

‘You must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman,’ Elizabeth had challenged him.

‘Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.’

‘A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word;’ Miss Bingley had argued, ‘and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half deserved.’

‘All this she must possess,’ he had answered, ‘and to all this she must add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.’

Little did he know that, more than seven years later, he would be deciding whether Elizabeth Bennet was accomplished enough to become his daughter’s governess.

He turned his attention to what she was saying.

“I have read Homer,” she said. “Not in the original.”

He looked at her then, for the first time. He didn’t want to stare, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted to determine if she was as alluring as he had painted her to be, all those years ago. She had changed. Of course she had. That was only to be expected. This new version was more poised, more self-controlled, but there was also something essential missing. The vivacity and vibrancy he had found so intriguing was gone. Before him, he saw a serious woman looking for a position, weighed down by circumstances, dressed in a matron’s mob cap and plain dress. She was perfectly ordinary.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was gone. It was Mrs. Elizabeth Heriot that sat before him, a woman whose experiences he knew nothing about. She was a stranger.

He felt bitterly disappointed. He ought to be relieved that he no longer felt anything towards her, but his heart twisted inside him, wondering what it was that had brought about this transformation.

He said the first thing that came into his mind. “Is there anything about your circumstances I should know?”

Her expression shifted, turning wary and shuttered. She flushed. She looked away, then back again with angry defiance.

“You have heard, then.”

He shook his head, frowning. “I have heard nothing. I was merely asking as a formality. It is my duty to safeguard my child.”

“Of course.” Elizabeth sat very still, examining her gloves. “I would have told you before the end of the meeting, if it had gone well, because I value honesty above all things.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Something happened, not very long after you left Netherfield. Several months later – six years ago, now. My sister—”

She stopped. He waited for her to compose herself, wondering why she was so hesitant. Was it possible that something dreadful had happened to her older sister after Bingley’s departure?

“Jane?” he said, afraid of what he might hear.

“No. Lydia.”

Darcy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Lydia – eloped.”

Well, that was hardly surprising. He had always expected something like that. It had been one of his reasons for not wanting to marry into the family.

“With Wickham.”

The name was like a blow to the stomach. His head shot up and he was on his feet without even noticing. “The devil!”

She nodded and looked down.

The truth sank in then. “He abandoned her.” His stomach churned with disgust and the realization that he might have prevented this, had he given Elizabeth the letter he had burned.

She gave a little nod, her face scarlet, her back stiff with embarrassment.

An intense agitation gripped him. He strolled to the window and looked out, trying to bring his emotions under control. This was partly his fault. He should have warned the inhabitants of Meryton about the kind of man Wickham was. He should have warned her.  Instead, he had abandoned them to the villain’s mercies.

He still hadn’t asked the obvious question. Darcy kept his back carefully turned to her as he spoke, wishing to spare her. “What happened to Lydia?”

“She came back, eventually. My father was able to marry her off, but it cost him a great deal.”

There was a rustle of skirts and he turned to find she was standing. “I suppose you wish me to leave now. I am sure you would not like your daughter to be associated with someone so mired in scandal.”

A reasonable deduction. Darcy considered it, struggling to see it objectively, setting aside his fury at Wickham, trying his best to consider only little Kathy’s interest, but the image of Georgiana intruded. He thought of Georgiana, her eyes red with crying as she understood how close she had come to disaster. She, too, had fallen under Wickham’s spell. It had been sheer luck alone that Darcy had discovered the danger before it happened.

Lydia had been reckless and foolish, but what right did he have to judge her when his own sister had fallen prey to the same man?

“Please be seated, Mrs. Heriot.” She looked at him with a confused frown. “I would like to continue the interview.”

She sat down slowly, watching him guardedly.

“Your sister is now respectably married?”

“Yes. She now has two little boys.” She flushed. “There is no question of who the father is, in either case. Lydia has changed a great deal, Mr. Darcy. You would scarcely know her if you saw her.”

He supposed that was very likely, considering that he had scarcely recognized the woman sitting in front of him. His anger at Wickham receded and he considered what to do about Mrs. Heriot. He could not turn her away; after all, it would be hypocritical to do so. Could he offer her another position, perhaps, one that did not affect his daughter? He tried to consider possibilities, but nothing came to mind.

“I appreciate your honesty, Mrs. Heriot. I must consider what you have told me. I have not discounted anything, but it requires further thought.”

“I understand,” she said. “Well, then, I will take my leave, Mr. Darcy.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“You are leaving?”

She blinked in confusion. “I thought – that is – you said—”

“I meant only that I wanted to think about it, now. Allow me a few more minutes of your time.”

She sat back in her chair. “Of course.”

He steepled his hand and stared into the distance. A long silence followed, in which the ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room. He examined the situation from various angles. Logic told him it would be wiser to avoid any hint of scandal. Instinct told him that – if she had not changed too much – Mrs. Heriot was exactly the right person for his daughter. Was he chasing at shadows? Only time would tell.

He took up the letter of reference. “I have a letter here – from Mr. Collins.”

Mrs. Heriot winced. “He is a clergyman and a landowner.”

“Unfortunately, I am aware of Mr. Collins’ character.”

Her brow twitched. “Of course.”

“Do you have nothing else? No one else to recommend you?”

“I do have a letter. From Sir William Lucas. I believe you have met him. It is a little too effusive. I was hesitant to include it.”

She took it out of her pelisse and handed it over to him.

Darcy skimmed quickly through it. He could see why she had chosen Mr. Collins’ letter over this one. Sir William was not the best of writers. His long-winded discourse was difficult to follow, and there was as much in it about his connections with the Prince Regent as there was about her. There were also several errors. Still, there was no doubting Sir William’s intentions. The letter painted a highly flattering picture of Mrs. Heriot. It confirmed that Darcy was making the right choice.

He reached his conclusion. “I don’t believe that your sister’s situation could have any bearing on your interaction with my daughter. If that changes for any reason, we will deal with it as required.” He paused. “I need you to promise, however, that my daughter will not have any contact with your sister.”

His words were harsh and uncompromising, making certain that the two worlds would never meet. He needed to ensure that she understood that.

Her eyes were full of shadows, but she nodded.

There was another matter he needed to address. It was awkward, but necessary. “I should make something else clear, to avoid misconceptions. You need not worry about any awkwardness between us related to – the past. Any communication between us will be limited to your duties. You will report to me about my daughter’s progress and any other concerns such as supplies and special requests for books. That is all.”

He did not look at her to see how she was reacting. It was better to keep things as impersonal as possible.

“You have not been a governess before, but I am experienced in these matters. I dealt with my sister Georgiana’s governesses over several years in my capacity as her guardian. I can tell you that Kathy will need quite a lot of your attention. After the loss of her mother, her behavior has been rather difficult.”

He stole a look at her now, and had a moment of doubt. Was this somber, serious-looking woman in an ugly grey dress the same as the woman he had known in Hertfordshire? Would the widow Mrs. Heriot be able to inspire his daughter with the courage and laughter he had come to expect of young Elizabeth Bennet? He wanted desperately for Kathy to be happy. He did not want her to become another Anne. He needed someone to show her that there were other ways of dealing with the world. It was important for Mrs. Heriot to know what he expected from her.

“You are not the most experienced governess I have interviewed,” he said, knowing he was being blunt, but wanting to communicate what he required. “There are many who are far more accomplished than you in the skills required of young ladies. I daresay you have never painted a silk screen.”

There was a flicker of a smile at the corner of her lips, quickly gone. He wondered if she, too, recalled their discussion at Netherfield.

“No, Mr. Darcy. I have not.” She held her hands in her lap, demurely. He knew it was expected of governesses, just as it was expected for them to wear hideous dresses, but it annoyed him.

“The reason I have chosen you is that I hope you will be able to bring some joy into her life and encourage a certain independence of spirit. I am not looking for a dour, prim person to educate her.”

He searched her face for traces of the joyous spirit he had known but found nothing. His doubts were almost strong enough for him to consider telling her he had changed his mind. He could not afford to get it wrong. He could not allow his past acquaintance with Elizabeth Bennet to sway his decision in the present. He was not sure at all that Mrs. Heriot was the same person.

He examined her for signs that she had grasped what he meant.

“I understand you, perfectly, Mr. Darcy,” she said. “I promise to do everything in my power to make your daughter happy.”

It would have to do. “I expect you to hold her to a particular standard of behavior as well.”

He was thinking of Lydia and Kitty’s outrageous conduct.

“Naturally. I will take my sister Jane as a model of good behavior. I should make it entirely clear, however, that if you expect me to teach her to be a hypocrite, I will not agree to that.”

She was risking it all by saying that. That pleased him. There was still a fighting spirit in her, then. Despite appearances, she would not be docile, even if she was his employee.

“If you knew me, Mrs. Heriot, you would know that I abhor pretense of every kind.”

“I am – aware of that.”

Ah, she was thinking of that unfortunate proposal. He wished he could pluck it from her mind and burn it, as he had burned the letter he had almost given her. Since he could not, he returned to the matter at hand.

“You will be teaching Kathy writing and mathematics. I hope you will instill in her the desire to read.”

“Yes.”

“I will hire a music and a dance master for her, though I know well enough that you are more than equal to the task of teaching her dancing.”

Elizabeth flushed at this reminder of their previous history.

“Obviously, as she grows older, she will need additional lessons. We will discuss these at a later date.”

“Very well.”

He named a sum of money. It was generous, a little more than he would normally pay a governess, but not enough for it to seem like charity. “Would that be satisfactory?”

She nodded. “I would require one afternoon a week to do as I please.”

“A governess usually receives one day a month.”

“If I cannot go walking, Mr. Darcy, I become restless, and that will not do.”

He remembered how Miss Bingley and her sister had stared at her when she had arrived at Netherfield to take care of her feverish sister, six inches of mud on her skirts.

“I suppose that can be arranged. Are we in agreement, then?”

Coming to her feet, she gave a little smile. For a moment, something of her past self, like a ghostly presence, made an appearance. Then her expression tightened, and it was gone.

“We are in agreement, Mr. Darcy. Let me know when you expect me to go to Pemberley, and I will be ready.”

Then she was gone, leaving an unfamiliar perfume behind her.

*~~*

As always, I very much enjoy reading your reactions to the chapter, so please let me know your thoughts!