Page 14 of Miss Gardiner
“Lead on Miss Gardiner,” Mr Darcy commanded.
Uncle Edward said his goodbyes and left through the front door before Mr Darcy, his servants, and Miss Gardiner began the climb to the third floor.
“Your uncle does not wish to see the paintings?” asked Mr Darcy.
“Like yourself, he had business meetings this morning before I demanded his time to resolve a mystery,” Miss Gardiner said. She glanced at Mr Darcy before adding, “Perhaps he does not wish to climb all these stairs to the top of the house. And he must believe that you can assist me properly this morning.”
The footman and secretary both snorted and covered their mouths. Mr Banks kept his face neutral, but his eyes twinkled as Mr Darcy laughed aloud.
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Returning to her rooms after breakfast to work with her needles, Georgiana heard laughter outside her door and quickly crossed the room to open the door. There she found her brother escorting Miss Gardiner along the hallway to the final staircase leading to the ballroom with Mr Banks, Mr Clemmons and a footman following.
“Brother?”
Darcy glanced over at his sister and motioned for her to join them, “Come along Georgiana. Miss Gardiner has a mystery from among our mother’s treasures to solve this morning.”
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It had been two weeks since Darcy climbed to the third floor to view the room, and he found that the workmen had made great progress in moving crates and barrels out. There were rough cloths spread about in many places that Miss Gardiner said were to protect the floors while the workmen sorted boxes and crates. There were clear passageways through the piles of material and many bolts of the cloth were gone.
He stopped before an arrangement of furniture that surprised him, two tables with a sofa and two chairs arranged on a Persian rug with a chest to one side of the rug.
Stepping forward, Georgiana explained, “I arranged this setting myself for my visits with Miss Gardiner last week.”
“A parlour in the middle of our warehouse in a ballroom?” Darcy asked his sister.
“Yes, brother. Miss Gardiner is helping me with sums while she creates the inventory–I must never call work–and I wanted appropriate chairs. She brought the chest to lock her papers away every afternoon, and I selected the rug from a few piled in a corner.”
“Miss Gardiner does not have time to give you lessons, Georgiana,” Mr Darcy said.
The young woman interrupted the gentleman when she explained, “Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy and I talk about the many items that are being catalogued, and she enjoys the numbers as well.”
Immediately, Miss Darcy and Miss Gardiner began a conversation in French about creating sums from columns of figures. Mr Darcy had not used French for many months, but he was able to follow the ‘hundreds’well enough.
He challenged his sister to add together two numbers he called out in French. Georgiana took only a moment to add together the numbers in her head and announce the correct answer, also in French. Then she pouted and added in French, “Really, William, give me a more challenging sum next time.”
Mr Darcy had no further objections to the arrangements his sister made with Miss Gardiner, and they returned to the mysterious crates. As Mr Banks and the footman examined the first crate, Mr Darcy observed his sister continuing to interact with Miss Gardiner. The ‘visitor’ in their home was intelligent and educated. Her French had a bookish accent that could be corrected by a few lessons with one of the native speakers available as tutors in London. In recent years, London seemed overrun with refugees first fleeing the revolution, and then Bonaparte.
Banks and the footman carefully removed the cover of the first crate to uncover a painting of an English landscape in summer. Miss Gardiner made certain to find the papers in the crate and after making notations in her papers, she handed them to Mr Darcy. He immediately handed them to Mr Clemmons who held them up to the light.
“Richard Wilson was the artist,” Clemmons reported.
A second and then a third crate were opened with two still-life paintings by artists working in London fifteen years before. The fourth crate was opened, and Mr Banks withdrew a canvas that portrayed a lovely lady, but the portrait was not finished. While her face, figure, arms, gown, and hat were complete, the surrounding canvas held only a few strokes of paint that were unrecognizable.
“She’s lovely,” Georgiana stated, and Miss Gardiner agreed.
“Mother,” whispered Mr Darcy.
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Mr Darcy stared for several moments while the others remained silent. He took Georgiana’s hand and led her closer.
“I remember the artist coming here that summer to paint this portrait. We remained in London rather than travelling to Pemberley so he could work. He preferred morning light in the parlour, but Mother refused to rise before ten in the morning, so he painted her portrait in the dining room with the afternoon sun,” he explained. “Mother was so very happy that you were to be born, and she sat for the man every day until the day you were born.”
“But he didn’t finish it,” the girl said. “Was it because Mother died?”
“I do not know,” Darcy admitted. He smiled though when he glanced between his sister and the portrait and said, “Georgie, youresemble Mother very much. And she loved you more than anything. She chose your name before you were born, sewed clothes for you, and made me promise to be a good brother.”
