Chapter Text
Prompt: If walls could talk
TO ADMIRE A GAINSBOROUGH
Elizabeth's trip to Hunsford was cut short because Jane had met Mr. Bingley in London, quite by accident, and when they got engaged a couple of days later Mrs. Bennet demanded Elizabeth's urgent return so she could help with the wedding preparations. So many things could go wrong!
But no disaster prevented the wedding, and after Jane and Bingley had left on their honeymoon, Elizabeth travelled to Derbyshire with the Gardiners.
It is not the object of this work to double as a travel guide so we shall skip the descriptions of the fine houses and vistas they saw on their way, as we are concerned with just one particular house at this time.
Mrs. Gardiner was eager to see Pemberley, which was but five miles from Lambton. Elizabeth had to own that she was somewhat tired of great houses as one expensive carpet was usually much like another, and all the portraits on the walls tended to look like people with two eyes and a nose in the middle.
Mr. Gardiner said he had been told there was a fine painting by Gainsborough that they would surely admire. Mrs. Gardiner said that the grounds and gardens were well worth seeing.
Seeing her uncle and aunt very much wished to go, Elizabeth could have no objection. ”It would be a little awkward to bump into Mr. Darcy without an invitation, but the people at the inn were saying he is not in residence at this time.”
”If his house is open to random tourists,” Mrs. Gardiner said, ”I am sure he could not object to the family of his good friend visiting. I understand that Mr. Bingley holds him in high esteem.”
”He does,” Elizabeth agreed. ”But Jane says Charles has not seen him since spring. I am not sure but I think they may have quarrelled about something.”
”Even if they have, it could have nothing to do with you,” Mrs. Gardiner said practically.
To Pemberley, therefore, they were to go.
The housekeeper was a respectable, elderly woman who was very civil, and not as formal as Elizabeth had expected.
”Have you been here before, Miss?” Mrs. Reynolds said.
”No, it is my first time in Derbyshire,” Elizabeth said.
”I am from Lambton and I visited the Pemberley gardens as a child,” Mrs. Gardiner said. ”But Lizzy has never had the pleasure.”
”Oh, I thought the young miss looked familiar, that is all.” Mrs. Reynolds said.
”Perhaps she resembles someone you know,” Mr. Gardiner said.
”Perhaps,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”Maybe it will come to me later.”
She eyed Elizabeth appraisingly. ”Do you know Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
”We are slightly acquainted,” Elizabeth said. ”But I would not say I know him well.”
”And do not you think him a very handsome gentleman, ma’am?”
“Yes, very handsome.”
“I am sure I know none so handsome,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”And of a steadiness of purpose and plenty of good character, moreover. I have never had a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old.”
“There are very few people of whom so much can be said. You are lucky in having such a master,” Mr. Gardiner said.
“Yes, sir, I know I am. If I were to go through the world, I could not meet with a better. But I have always observed, that they who are good-natured when children, are good-natured when they grow up; and he was always the sweetest tempered, most generous-hearted boy in the world.”
Elizabeth was a bit surprised to hear Mr. Darcy thus described, for he had definitely not struck her as affable during their brief acquaintance, but she supposed one must give faithful retainers some leave to be biased about their employers. Perhaps Mrs. Reynolds received a very generous salary. And after all, Mr. Wickham had said that Mr. Darcy was well able to please whenever he chose to bother. Likely he found it expedient to bother when he was at home.
”It is very much to his credit that you can give such a good account of him,” she said aloud.
”Ask anyone who knows him, and you must get the same account,” Mrs. Reynolds said. “He is the best landlord, and the best master, and any of his tenants or servants would give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.”
”Indeed,” Elizabeth said faintly. ”Whatever Mr. Darcy may be, he is certainly not a rattle.”
”Have you often been in company with him?”
”No, not often.”
”Are you sure you have not been here previously? Or at Darcy House in London? Because I am certain that I have seen you before.”
”No, you must have seen someone who looks like me. I do not even know where Mr. Darcy's London house is.”
Mrs. Reynolds said nothing, and Elizabeth began to feel a little uncomfortable under her stare.
”I met Mr. Darcy last year in Hertfordshire, where he briefly stayed with his friend Mr. Bingley who had leased a house in the neighbourhood. Later, in the spring, I saw Mr. Darcy in Kent, usually at church. My cousin is the rector in his aunt's parish, and Mr. Darcy faithfully attended all the services.”
”Ah, yes, as he would,” Mrs. Reynolds said. But there was still a vaguely sceptical air about her.
”Mr. Bingley is now my brother-in-law, but Mr. Darcy was not present at the wedding,” Elizabeth felt compelled to explain herself further.
”I see,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”Yes, we know Mr. Bingley quite well in these parts.”
”My niece is very happy to have met him,” Mr. Gardiner said.
”I wish them both great joy,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”And what do you think about Mr. Darcy, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth was a bit uncomfortable at the attention. To what were these questions tending? Did the housekeeper interrogate all the guests like this? Would she report her findings to Mr. Darcy?
Elizabeth had a fanciful notion that Mrs. Reynolds must have some sort of a theory that she was testing. But Elizabeth did not know what the right answers to her questions would be, so she opted for the truth.
”Mr. Darcy is rather reserved in company so I cannot say I know him well. But Mr. Bingley says Mr. Darcy has been a great friend for many years and gave him very valuable advice about his estate.”
”Certainly,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”Mr. Darcy is very conscientious about Pemberley and the welfare of everyone connected to it, and the tenants are all the better for his attentions.”
”Is your master in residence?” Mr. Gardiner asked, and Elizabeth was glad that the housekeeper's focus shifted to the others.
Mrs. Reynolds said Mr. Darcy had been present through much of the summer due to some estate concerns. But at the moment he was visiting his uncle.
Her aunt wondered about some miniatures over the mantel-piece. The housekeeper told them the miniatures depicted her master, his sister, and a young man who had been her late master's godson.
”No, these portraits are just one woman and one man,” Mr. Gardiner said.
The housekeeper approached, and exclaimed in surprise. ”Mr. Wickham's portrait has been here since my late master's time but apparently it is missing now.”
She did not believe the painting to have great monetary value but nevertheless she was initially worried that the painting had been stolen. ”Some people walk away with the oddest trinkets.”
But there was a footman on duty in the hall who was able to reassure her. ”The master removed it himself. The butler asked him about it and he said that despite his father's devotion, the subject was not of a sufficient moral value to merit a pride of place on the walls of Pemberley. It is now in the footmens' quarters, on the wall with the pictures of people who are never to be admitted in this house. He sent a copy of the portrait to the London house as well.”
”Good heavens, what did Mr. Wickham do?” exclaimed Mr. Gardiner. ”He seemed like such a polite young man.”
”I could not presume to guess,” Mrs. Reynolds said, ”but generally his troubles tend to involve women, money, or both. Do you know him?”
”Slightly,” said Mr. Gardiner. ”His militia regiment was stationed near my niece's home, so I have seen him once or twice. He told us of growing up here.”
”Oh, yes, he would do that, wouldn't he! He always believed that it gave him a sheen of respectability,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”Well, I hope the militia keeps him away from mischief. My late master was very fond of him, however little he might have deserved it.”
If her gaze had been appraising before, now she seemed downright suspicious. Apparently admitting to an acquaintance with Mr. Wickham was not considered a sign of good character in this household. Whatever could the lieutenant have done to get himself banned from Pemberley?
”He was lately engaged to a girl in Hertfordshire,” Elizabeth said. ”But I think her family put a stop to it.”
Elizabeth had been hoping to keep Mrs. Reynolds talking about Mr. Wickham, and shed some further light on his character. Mr. Wickham had explained that his quarrel with Mr. Darcy was about an inheritance. But it seemed to Elizabeth that it could not be all that there was about it, and it seemed more and more likely that Mr. Wickham had left out some details that would have put him in bad light.
But all the housekeeper said was, ”Good for her.”
Then they toured more rooms. Elizabeth was too occupied with her thoughts to pay proper attention to the curtains and carpets, but she saw enough to conclude that Pemberley had been decorated in obvious good taste and quality, although some things were rather old-fashioned by now.
”Mr. Darcy has not changed much in this house, and many of the rooms are still as they were in his parents' time,” Mrs. Reynolds explained.
”Perhaps his sister can help him,” Mrs. Gardiner said. ”If she inherited the same good eye she could update the style yet keep the ambience equally pleasant in all the essentials.”
”Miss Darcy has great taste,” Mrs. Reynolds allowed. ”But she is rather sentimental of the memories, and would prefer to keep to her mother's choices for as long as they are serviceable.”
”It must be very difficult for such a young girl to lose both of her parents,” Mrs. Gardiner said.
”Indeed,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”My master and his cousin are doing a good job as her guardians, and she has aunts who are interested in her welfare. But obviously it is not the same as having a mother's advice, love and support.”
”Does Mr. Darcy plan to marry soon?” Mr. Gardiner said. ”Miss Darcy might have the support of a sister then.”
”Perhaps so but we know of no wedding plans.”
”But Mrs. Reynolds, do you not remember?” A maid had come in, apparently intent on dusting something, but she had paused when seeing the visitors. ”The master had new wallpapers put in the mistress's chambers recently, so it is quite likely he will marry as soon as not.”
”Yes, well,” Mrs. Reynolds said repressively. ”Thank you, Molly. If he has plans he will announce them in his own good time, I am sure.”
Although Mrs. Reynolds was quite talkative herself, apparently gossiping about their employers was not encouraged among the lower ranks of servants.
The maid seemed a little embarrassed, for having revealed something that Mrs. Reynolds did not want revealed. She curtsied and was about to leave the room. But she had to walk past Elizabeth to do so, and when she took a good look at her, she stopped, startled. ”Oh, Miss...” she said, and stared at her.
Then she went back to whisper something very quietly in Mrs. Reynolds's ear. Mrs. Reynolds exclaimed something unintelligible, turned sharply, and stared at Elizabeth once more.
Elizabeth was beginning to feel an intense discomfort at the scrutiny and odd reactions of these strangers. Maybe it had been a mistake to come to Pemberley.
”Thank you so much for showing us the house,” she said. ”Is it not time for us to leave soon, Uncle?”
Her uncle had noticed something peculiar in the air too and was willing to comply. ”Yes, we are expected to dine with friends in Lambton, and we have to stop at the inn before we go.”
”No, you cannot leave yet!” Mrs. Reynolds suddenly said, very emphatically. Everyone, including Mrs. Reynolds herself, was surprised and taken aback at her sudden vehemence, and she attempted to smooth things out. ”You could not claim to have seen Pemberley if you have not seen the portrait gallery. I do believe we get many visitors who come here specifically for the paintings. There is a very fine piece by Gainsborough, and you would be sorry to miss it.”
”I suppose we can take the time to see a Gainsborough,” Mr. Gardiner relented graciously. ”Supposing it is as fine as you say, everyone will understand if we are a bit late, admiring it.”
But before they could get to the Gainsborough Mrs. Reynolds made them look at more portraits of the current Mr. Darcy, Miss Darcy and a large array of Darcy ancestors.
There seemed to be a certain forbidding look about the Darcy males, and next to some of his forebears, Mr. Darcy's stern, serious expression softened in comparison.
Elizabeth recognized a portrait of Colonel Fitzwilliam in his regimentals, and an older man who had to be his father, the earl.
A part of the room was devoted to the art of Miss Darcy. She had painted landscapes in oils and watercolours, and drawn portraits of people in crayons, including a lovely sketch of her brother with a lingering smile on his face. Elizabeth had not often seen him smiling so, but somehow the expression seemed familiar to her, and the man in the drawing seemed to be looking straight into her.
”Who is that?” Mrs. Gardiner asked. ”I think I have found your doppelganger, Lizzy.”
”Oh, this one is new!” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”It must be the one Molly...”
She cut herself off in the middle of a sentence.
Indeed, one of Miss Darcy's drawings looked a lot like Elizabeth, walking with another woman who was merely an outline.
”It is quite uncanny,” she said. ”I must have a long lost twin somewhere.”
”Are you sure it is not you, Miss Bennet?” Mrs. Reynolds asked.
”It is not,” Elizabeth said firmly. ”How could Miss Darcy have sketched me when I have never met her?”
But silently she thought that the picture looked a lot like the scene at Netherfield, when Miss Bingley wanted to walk around the room. Had Mr. Darcy been writing a letter? Or sketching?
Elizabeth peered at the pictures closer. Most of Miss Darcy's sketches had her initials in the corner, but the one that looked like her was unsigned.
”Where is the Gainsborough?” she asked, pretending nonchalance she did not feel. She had to get out of this house soon.
”It is in the far end of the gallery,” Mrs. Reynolds said.
But on the way they had to pass more paintings. They were women of varying ages. Some of them looked content, even happy, others had a rather imperious air.
”I assume that these are the former mistresses of Pemberley,” Mrs. Gardiner inquired.
”Yes,” Mrs. Reynolds said. ”And some other ladies who belonged here.”
Among the portraits, there was one that caught Elizabeth's eye.
It was a watercolour, smaller than the others, unsigned. But she stood transfixed in front of it for a long while.
It was the likeness of a young woman dressed in modern fashions, standing on the steps in front of Pemberley, admiring the gardens. Her face was not visible, but indeed, for all the world she looked like she belonged there.
Everyone else gathered around the painting, and stared.
”Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner said finally. ”Why is there a picture of you here?”
”It is not a picture of me,” she attempted to convince herself.
But it must be. She recognized the bonnet and the clothing in the painting as the ones she had worn to church at Rosings.
And she was wearing the same outfit now.