Theodosia Beckford, seated at her harp, had just capped the Count’s final words with a flourish of dramatic chords when there was a bustle outside the door. It opened and the butler came in, looking startled.
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh is just arrived, Mrs Darcy, together with Miss Anne.”
Justin looked around at the interruption as Mr Darcy, shedding both cloak and role, jumped down from the stage and strode across the hall. “Lady Catherine is here?”
“Yes, Mr Darcy. I have shown her into the Blue Drawing Room.”
He might have done so, but Lady Catherine, who had demanded to know where her nephew was, had been overcome by curiosity as to why he was in the Great Hall and she now stalked into the room.
She looked about her with an imperious air, disapproval writ strong upon her countenance. “What is the meaning of this?”
Miss Beckford took her hands off the strings, let the harp fall back and watched with interest as Mr Darcy shut his eyes for a second and then, as though gathering his strength, said “Good afternoon, aunt, what an unexpected pleasure.”
“I do not know why it should be unexpected, for I told you in my last letter that I had the intention of taking Anne to Buxton Spa. Naturally I would not come into Derbyshire without making a stay at Pemberley. I sent an express from town to give you the date of my arrival.”
“I’m afraid no express has come. I dare say the bad weather held up the post boys.”
“Nonsense, if I could make the journey here, why should not they? All that expense for nothing; I shall make a complaint.”
Theodosia had a shrewd idea that Mr Darcy wished his aunt had been unable to make the journey. With her sharp words and haughty expression she did not look to be an amiable woman.
Chapter Fifteen
Justin judged it best to bring the rehearsal to a close. He felt Lady Catherine’s formidable eye upon him, and came forward to make his bow. She held up her face à main and looked him up and down. “Well Justin, what is this I hear about you?”
“How do you do, Lady Catherine? I have no idea what you may have heard about me. If you tell me, then I may be able to confirm or deny what was said.”
“Pray do not be frivolous. I heard that you have left the East India Company.”
Justin said, “There is no secret about that, ma’am. I told my parents I had done so.”
“What you neglected to tell your mother and father—and they only learned of it by the merest chance—is that instead of being, as they supposed, penniless and in a parlous state, you made a fortune in India. It is said that you are, in fact, a veritable nabob.”
Justin sighed inwardly. Quite a few people knew of the success he had made of his years in India, but it was not something that he particularly wanted broadcast in the present company. He bowed again. “Yes, I was fortunate enough to prosper, have quit India for good and am come back to England to make my life here henceforth. ”
“From what I hear, your fortune is large enough to enable you to buy an abbey.”
“Set your mind at rest, I have no intention of buying an abbey.”
The look Lady Catherine gave him was glacial. “You always did have a deceitful temperament.”
Justin was sorry that he had antagonised Lady Catherine into uttering such a disparaging remark when he saw the vexed look on Mr Darcy’s face and was relieved when his host brought their exchange to an end by asking his aunt where she had left Cousin Anne.
“I told her to remain in the drawing room. I did not want to come with me as it is invariably cold in the Great Hall at this time of year. I confess I am surprised to see you involved in theatricals, I should have thought you had more important matters to attend to.” She looked at the rest of the cast and helpers who had drawn together as though in need of support. Her eye fell on her niece.
“You should not be in here, Sarah. And what is that you have on your hands? Paint? You should certainly not be painting scenery in your condition.” Lady Catherine greeted Olivia with graciousness, stared at Veronica, and then gave Mr Giddings a severe look. “I would not have thought that a man of the cloth would lend himself to these kind of pursuits.”
Mr Giddings, a smile hovering on his lips, merely bowed. Mr Darcy said, “I believe, aunt, that my grandfather’s chaplain used take part in the family theatricals.”
She gave her nephew a withering glance. “That was a long while ago, and in a less enlightened age. I feel that the tenor of the times is now more serious.”
Justin wondered what on earth had given her that idea, but he kept his mouth shut. He could see that Lady Catherine was not particularly pleased to see Octavius, and as, by common consent they abandoned the rehearsal, Lady Sarah whispered in his ear that her aunt had never cared for her husband. “I don’t think she will ever forgive me for marrying him. She loves to interfere in other people’s lives and she wanted me to marry a man of her choosing. You will need to take care, for I am sure she will take it upon herself to decide whom you are to marry.”
Chapter Sixteen
Theodosia, a candle in one hand, pushed open the door to the Great Hall. She curved her other hand around the flame to protect it from the draughts as she walked across to the stage.
She was waiting for Olivia and Veronica to go through their lines for one of their scenes. Veronica was good at striking dramatic poses, but not quick at learning her part, and she needed the extra rehearsal. Theodosia set about lighting some of the branches of candles and then ascended the wooden steps on to the stage. It was a deep structure and at the back, quite dark.
It was quiet in the hall, with only the crackling noises of the fires and the soft guttering sounds from the candles to break the soft silence. Across one wall was a great tapestry, a knightly scene with prancing horses and banners flying. The painted battlements loomed up behind Theodosia and, as she looked out at the tapestry and at the breastplates, swords, helmets, pikes and other relics of the past that adorned the other walls, she could almost imagine herself back in the Middle Ages. Back to a time when a castle was not a home, but a fortress with enemies of every kind, natural and supernatural, lurking about the battlements and within its shadowy passages and lofty chambers.
The door opened, the candles flickered and Theodosia came abruptly back into modern times as the lively voices of Olivia and Veronica broke the spell of silence and gothic mystery.
Ever since the revelations about Justin Aconbury’s fortune, Miss Turlington’s attitude towards him had changed abruptly. A younger son, with no chance of inheriting a title was of no interest to her. A man in a similar position, but possessed of a large fortune, was something else again.
Theodosia had moved back into the shadows to bring forward the table and chairs for the scene to be enacted and so she could not help hearing what Veronica had to say.
“Lady Catherine said Mr Aconbury was rich enough to buy an abbey. That is all very well but how much money does it take to buy an abbey? Why an abbey rather than anything else? You live in an abbey, Olivia, and yet your father is not so very rich.”
“I have no idea how much it would cost to buy Penfold Abbey, as it has never been sold nor been put up for sale. It has belonged to my father’s family through the generations ever since it was given to an ancestor of ours at the Dissolution of the Monasteries. But I think it is generally agreed that it costs a great deal of money to purchase an abbey. They are the fashion at the moment, they have an historical appeal and often a great deal of land with them and so, when people have made a fortune one way or another, that is often the kind of country estate they look to buy.”
“If I had a great deal of money, I would buy a town house and some pleasant mansion in an agreeable part of the country.”
“Yes, and so would any person of sense. There is nothing special about living in an abbey, unless you have an inclination towards small rooms, a chilly atmosphere and ruins in the garden. Penfold is in many ways an inconvenient house compared to a house like Pemberley, wh
ich is nearly all modern. However, do not mistake me; it is my home, and I am fond of it.”
Veronica said, “When your father dies and your brother inherits, you will have to live elsewhere. Unless you have married. You may find yourself living for ever at Penfold if you don’t manage to find yourself a husband. In that case, I suppose you will stay on to be a perpetual aunt to your brother’s children.” She gave a shrug. “I should not care for such a fate.”
Theodosia drew in her breath. How could Veronica say such a thing to Olivia, supposedly her friend? In that case, how might she speak to those she considered her enemies?
Veronica went on, “I long to know exactly what his fortune is. Lady Catherine gave us no details as to what his income will be. Nor, indeed, how he came by his fortune.”
Olivia said, sounding a little irritated, “He came by it honestly, in any event.”
Veronica said, “How can you be sure? Of course a fortune is a fortune, and provided a man is not actually going to be hauled before the courts for some misdeed, one cannot be too nice about how he came by it.”
Olivia sounded amused. “I assure you, there was nothing criminal nor underhand about how Mr Aconbury became a wealthy man. He did a favour to someone in India, one of the real nabobs, who put him in the way of making some lucky investments. There are immense fortunes to be made in that country. I confess I was surprised to find out how much Mr Aconbury is worth, but Papa tells me such success is not uncommon, if a man can survive the rigours of the life out there.”
She lapsed into sudden silence and Theodosia suspected she wished she hadn’t said so much.
Veronica pounced on this information. “You know how rich he is? How comes this? Has he told you?”
Olivia said, her voice calm, “My father knows something of him. We have a cousin who is with the East India Company. Mr Aconbury did not come by his fortune last week. He has been a man of substance for some time, as is quite generally known by now.”
Veronica said, “There you go again, it is all so vague. What you mean by substance?”
Olivia said, “You had better ask him.”
“You call yourself a friend, and yet you keep secrets from me. That is not an act of friendship.” Her voice took on a wheedling tone. “Besides, if it is generally known, you may as well tell me.
Olivia said, “I suppose it is not much of a secret. Papa says that, were he to invest his fortune in the funds, it would bring him in perhaps some fifteen thousand a year.”
Theodosia had to put a hand over her mouth to smother a gasp of astonishment. She had no idea that Mr Aconbury’s fortune was so large and this knowledge dismayed her.
She had from the beginning formed a favourable impression of him. She liked his quick wits, his humour and his liveliness. She had to admit he pretty much fitted what she thought a man ought to be: Sure of himself and with a natural authority, but considerate, good-tempered and never pompous nor overbearing.
That initial liking had, almost without her noticing it, begun to change to warmer regard. She looked out for him, was pleased to be in his company, felt her heart jump at the sound of his voice.
Why had she allowed herself to cherish such feelings? Well, what was wrong with them? She wasn’t looking to ensnare him and she doubted if she could. He was the kind of man who would decide for himself what he wanted, but friendship at least seemed possible. She had fallen on hard times—through no fault of her own—and had to earn her living, and he, too, had had to make his own way in the world. But the kind of income of which Olivia spoke was almost beyond her comprehension; that yawned before her as a gulf, an inequality too great ever to be bridged.
Such an income wasn’t at all beyond Veronica’s comprehension. With an angry colour in her cheeks that reflected her agitated spirits, she almost flew at Olivia. “How dare you keep this from me? You did it deliberately, do not pretend otherwise.”
Olivia said, “For heaven’s sake, Veronica, what is Mr Aconbury to you, why are you so worked up over this?”
“You cannot be so stupid as not to know. It makes a difference when a man one thought to be an impoverished younger son turns out to be a man in possession of such a fortune as that. Why, what a catch; he would make an excellent husband for any woman.”
Olivia said, “For any woman who cared for him. You have disliked him from the start. You found him sharp-tongued, you do not like the way he gives you commands when you are acting, you are annoyed that he doesn’t seem to admire your beauty.”
Veronica gave an impatient toss of her head. “What does any of that matter? What need to talk of liking or disliking a man when he has fifteen thousand a year? You kept that information to yourself, you wanted to set your cap at him before his estate became known to everyone.”
“I would not in any circumstances set my cap at any man. What a horrid, vulgar expression to use, Veronica. I like Mr Aconbury well enough and would find him a most agreeable man whether he had fifteen hundred or fifteen thousand a year. But I am not in love with him and never could be. I would never marry a man I did not love, not for twice as many thousands a year or half a dozen abbeys.”
“Then you are nothing but a simpleton who deserves to spend the rest of your days in your precious abbey, withering away into an old maid.”
Theodosia wondered if she should step out of the shadows and intervene. She knew the friendship between these two girls was not a warm one, she guessed it was based on no more than the family connection that had thrown them together. But this was the other side of enough. All her sentiments were with Olivia.
She did not have to make the decision, for at that moment Olivia turned her head and saw her. She said to Veronica, “You do not know what you are saying and look, here is Miss Beckford. Whatever will she think of your rash words?
Veronica glanced at Miss Beckford, all indifference. “Why should I care what a servant thinks of what I say or do? I do not seek the good opinion of a governess, I assure you.”
Olivia stepped back as though she had been slapped. “How can you speak like that? Miss Beckford is a gentlewoman, the daughter of a naval officer, who died serving his country. I trust what you just said never comes to Mr or Mrs Darcy’s ears, for they would be horrified that a guest in their house should talk in such a way.”
Theodosia had moved into the centre of the stage. She said, amazing herself by how calm she sounded, “Do not be concerned, Miss Penfold. I take no notice of what Miss Turlington has to say. If we light the candles here on the stage, we may go through that scene, which is why we are here.”
Olivia went across to take the candle out of Theodosia’s hand and began to light the other candles.
Veronica did not make a move to help. “Why do you not ring for a footman to come and do that?”
Olivia said, “Because I do not need a footman. I am perfectly capable of lighting the candles. Will that be sufficient, Miss Beckford?”
Veronica picked up her script and began to speak her lines in such a cross way that Mr Aconbury, who had come unnoticed into the hall, cried out, “No, no, Miss Turlington, not like that.”
Two bounds and he was on the stage. He snatched the script from her and said, “You should know your lines by now. Miss Penfold does, after all.”
“Hers is a shorter part. And my lines are ill-written and make no sense.”
Theodosia saw Aconbury’s lips set firm and there was a gleam of anger in his eyes. But his voice was level. “Very well, you may change roles with Olivia. I am sure she will have your lines learned in a trice and you should be better able to manage the shorter part.”
Theodosia closed her eyes, waiting for the storm to break. Which it did. She had been mistaken in thinking Veronica could not act; the histrionic display she now put on would have graced any London stage.
It was a scene that ended, inevitably, in tears and then in a graceful collapse on to a chair. Smelling salts were called for; her maid was summoned.
Mr Aconbury was adamant. He was
directing the play and his decision was final. Miss Turlington refused to take the part of Cecilia? So be it, then let her withdraw from the production.
Mr Giddings, who had been watching all this with a look of unholy amusement on his face said, “Do not be too hasty, Aconbury, for who else can take the part.”
“Yes, who?” Veronica said, suddenly coming out of an apparent swoon.
“Why, as to that,” Mr Aconbury said, “Miss Beckford can play Cecilia.”
Chapter Seventeen
Mr and Mrs Darcy liked to be down for dinner before their guests. But when they came into the drawing room, they found Sarah and Octavius already there. Sarah was hearing her husband’s lines, and laughing at him as he threw himself with gusto into his villainous role.
The Darcys joined in the laughter, but the general merriment came to an abrupt end when Lady Catherine, resplendent in silk and lace, entered the room. She cast a look of disapproval at Octavius.
“Why are you capering about, Mr Hyde? Pray sit down, or you will give us all the fidgets.”
She then addressed herself to her nephew. “I am told that the young woman whom I saw playing the harp is governess to Letitia and Camilla. How comes this about? I recommended Miss Trubshaw to you, our curate’s daughter, and understood she had taken up employment here.”
“She did so,” Elizabeth said. “However, she was not suited to the position and she left after a fortnight.”
“Not suited? I never heard such nonsense. You cannot have found anything wrong with her conduct or abilities, not after I had arranged for her to come here. In what way did she not suit?”
Mr Darcy said, “I am afraid Camilla could not like her, and she proved too much of a handful for Miss Trubshaw.”
Mr Darcy Requests the Pleasure Page 24
