Pemberley Gothick: A Collection of Gothick Tales Inspired by Jane Austen by Harlowe Anne

Author:Harlowe, Anne
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: EKP
Published: 2023-05-22T00:00:00+00:00

MONSIEUR ST. AUBERT turned out to be an elderly man with a frail constitution. His doctor had advised travel for his health, and his daughter had agreed to accompany him to take advantage of the opportunity to enlarge her mind. She wished in particular to experience scenes of the sublime and picturesque – hence their choice of the English Lakes. It is true that in terms of the picturesque and sublime they had far less to offer than the Pyrenees or the Alps, but for a man in frail health their relative tameness was a distinct advantage.

After they had refreshed themselves and changed out of their travelling clothes, Bingley introduced them to the company.

“Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer,” said Monsieur St. Aubert. “Je vous présente ma fille.”

“Enchanté,” replied Darcy, whose French was good, but who could not bring himself to attempt a French accent, considering it beneath his dignity as an English gentleman to speak down his nose.

Emily made a curtsy, then said in perfect English with hardly a trace of an accent: “Father, I think it is only polite to speak in English, considering that we are guests in an English household.”

Bingley breathed an audible sigh of relief, and Darcy probably shared the feeling, though he was careful not to show it.

That moment of awkwardness over, Darcy had leisure to observe the woman whose accomplishments had been lauded in the previous day’s conversation. He noticed at once the elegant symmetry of her form, the delicacy of her features, and the blue eyes, full of tender sweetness. But, lovely as was her person, it was the varied expression of her countenance, as conversation awakened the nicer emotions of her mind, that threw such a captivating grace around her:

Those tenderer tints, that shun the careless eye,

And, in the world’s contagious circle, die.

If she was really as accomplished as Caroline had said, Darcy felt that he might, for the first time in his life, find himself in danger. True, he had felt himself becoming interested in the fine eyes and lively personality of Miss Bennet, but Miss St. Aubert was in a different league altogether.

It was only later on that the conversation took a serious turn, as it is not good manners to engage new acquaintances in serious conversation too soon, especially after a long and tiring journey. But not long after dinner, when the gentlemen had taken their port and rejoined the ladies, Caroline, secretly hoping to show off her accomplishments, said to Emily: “Do you play, Miss St. Aubert?”

“A little,” she replied. “I play the lute, which I understand is quite out of fashion here in England, and also the pianoforte – but perhaps you would be so good as to lead the way.”

This was just what Caroline had hoped for. She opened the instrument, a fine new Broadwood, and began a sonata by Clementi. It was well-chosen for its purpose, as it consisted of a series of showy runs and figures, but was not unduly difficult. She struck

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