Miss Darcy's Beaux

by Eliza Shearer

  My thoughts exactly. Her words sent a warm wave all over my body.

  Mrs Wentworth left shortly afterwards. Her slight figure entered her landaulette with a graceful movement, the heavy reticule giving away its contents. I went towards the table where tea had been served and took the invite she had handed me earlier. It was a beacon in what had so far been a rather dark day.

  I hardly slept that night. The odd noises coming from nearby streets, which had given me no cause for complaint until that moment, now seemed unbearable. My pillow felt too warm, and I tossed and turned in my bed, then got out and paced up and down my room with the anguish of those who feel left out. I didn't want to think about Kitty and the Captain, but inevitably I did, and suffered in doing so. I finally gave into slumber in the small hours, and was grateful when I finally opened my eyes to the morning sun.

  It was late, but my cousin was still at the breakfast table. He had been reading the newspaper, but he must have folded it as soon as he heard me come down the stairs. I murmured a good morning, and he surprised me by coming to greet me at the door.

  "Dear Georgiana, I couldn't help but hear you last night. Are you indisposed?"

  "It was nothing."

  "But I see that you haven't rested well."

  For a fleeting moment, cousin Fitzwilliam took my chin with his index finger and lifted my face towards him, fixing his eyes tenderly on me. The gesture was so out of place that I dropped the book that I had brought downstairs and was planning to read later in the parlour.

  "Allow me", he said, bending down to retrieve it for me.

  With a gallant ceremony which I had witnessed in the past but never been the recipient of, my cousin ushered me to my seat. He then proceeded to watch me eat with an expression that I couldn't quite place. It wasn't concern, but rather more like extreme interest. To defuse his attention, I enquired after my aunt.

  "I saw Lady Catherine this morning," he explained. "She is in better spirits, but the doctor insists that she needs to rest some more. She has also asked after you, and wants to go up to her room for a visit later today. She will send her maid to fetch you."

  "Of course."

  "Speaking of visits, Dewars has told me that Mrs Wentworth came to enquire after our aunt's health yesterday afternoon and that she stayed for half an hour."

  I nodded. I wasn't sure what my cousin was getting at.

  "Mrs Wentworth is a sensible and entirely respectable woman. I have consulted with our aunt, and we have no objections to you becoming more acquainted with her. In fact, we would be quite happy to encourage it."

  "That is uncanny, Cousin, because Mrs Wentworth also handed me an invitation for dinner on Saturday night. She sounded keen to see us there."

  My cousin's features immediately darkened.

  "I am afraid that accepting to attend a dinner party wouldn't be proper while Lady Catherine is unwell. She may take a while to recover, I fear. Her health hasn't been the same since suffering the loss of poor Cousin Anne, and the doctor has been quite clear. It is unlikely she'll be able to engage socially in the foreseeable future." My disappointment must have shown because he hastened to add, "Of course, I realise it would be rather cruel to condemn you to spend the rest of the season locked up in this house. Your brother said that Mrs Annesley is visiting family in Gloucestershire, but I will write to her and ask her to cut her stay short. We need her in London to keep you company."

  I thought of my faithful companion for the last five years. Upon knowing that I was to travel to London to be with Lady Catherine for the best part of three months, she had jumped at the chance to visit her sister and spend some time with her twin nephews. Surely, it would be cruel to snatch her away from her loved ones so soon.

  "I don't think that cutting Mrs Annesley's stay with her family short will be necessary,” I said. “I already have a few friends in London."

  Cousin Fitzwilliam looked at me. His brow creased and his eyes softened.

  "I suppose you do. But we must keep engagements to a minimum until Lady Catherine has recovered. Anyway, I expect there will be far less need for you to socialise, at least for the purposes our aunt initially had in mind.”

  With those words, he took my hand in his and kissed it again, and this time his whiskers lingered on my skin for longer than strictly necessary. Then he resolutely stood up.

  "Now, I must write to your brother at once," he said in a strained voice.

  He swiftly departed the breakfast room, leaving me with more questions than answers.

  That afternoon, Mr and Mrs Collins stopped at Grosvenor Square for a short visit. My cousin had not returned, so I received them on my own. Mr Collins seemed visibly concerned.

  "So it is true! Lady Catherine de Bourgh is affected by the gravest of maladies! I cannot express the dread I felt when your ladyship's footman informed us of the news. We were so very fortunate to run into him just outside Fortnum & Mason. You see, I was rather alarmed when I didn't see her at the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple's ball last night. Lady Catherine de Bourgh was so very kind to entreat the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple to invite us. I know for a fact that she used her influence most generously on the hostess to ensure our names were added to the guest list in spite of our relatively humble station in life, at least while Mr Bennet is alive."

  Mrs Collins coughed. I ignored his comment.

  "Please do not feel alarmed, Mr Collins. My aunt is only temporarily indisposed."

  "Oh, but to have such a great lady immersed in the evils of infirmity! Such a tender heart, such a generous and forgiving nature! We all owe her so much, even you, Miss Darcy, if I may say so. Her coming to London against her natural inclination to retire from this world after the bitter disappointments she has had to bear in the last few years was done just to ensure your happiness, so wouldn't it be atrocious if we lost her because of this last act of selflessness?"

  It hadn't crossed my mind that I could remotely be the cause of my aunt's death, but it was evident that Mr Collins saw it as a viable reason for her demise.

  "I am sure Miss Darcy understands the gravity of her situation and prays for her aunt's recovery as eagerly as you do," said Mrs Collins timidly. While her husband looked puzzled she continued, "Miss Darcy, you must have felt some disappointment at not being able to come to the ball last night. If we had known, it would have been an honour to accompany you."

  Her husband didn't allow me to reply.

  "But my dear Mrs Collins, I'm sure Miss Darcy didn't even think of the pleasures of dancing when her aunt was on the verge of meeting her Maker! Moreover, they were spared that ghastly incident. I shudder just to think that Lady Catherine de Bourgh's pious soul might have been forced to witness it."

  "May I enquire as to what happened at the ball, Mr Collins?" I couldn't help but ask.

  Mr Collins took a deep breath.

  "I'm afraid I cannot possibly bring myself to describe what went on," he said, after a dramatic pause. "It was all too shocking to be discussed in polite company. Imagine, two gentlemen and a lady behaving like anything but! All in all, a shameful affair that ought to bring the utmost reprehension from all quarters of Christian society. My particular cross to bear is that a close connection of mine is the lady involved in this sordid matter, and hence my lips are sealed. I will not discuss anything further."

  He stopped here, looking at me pointedly, his eyebrows raised. He clearly wanted me to insist and drag the unpleasant details out of him, but I didn't need to. The lady in question had to be Lydia Wickham, and I could guess the identity of the gentlemen.

  All at once I felt tired. I wanted to be left alone.

  Mrs Collins, who was perceptive where Mr Collins was oblivious, immediately understood that I wished them to take leave, and gently steered her husband's conversation away from the previous night, to focus on the framed picture they were supposed to collect from town. Before leaving, Mr Collins insisted on the tragedy of Lady Catherine's imminent departure from this world and his wish that
she should do so with little suffering. I repeated my assurances that the doctor trusted in my aunt's prompt recovery, but nevertheless, Mr Collins made me promise that I would send a servant to fetch him, should her end be nearer than anticipated.

  When the door closed behind the Collins, I sat down on the couch and my aunt's lapdog, exiled from the sickroom, promptly jumped on my lap. As I was stroking its ears, one big question hovered over me: what exactly had Lydia done at Lady Dalrymple's ball that had so scandalised Mr Collins?

  Chapter 17

  Jones brought me the answer later that day, when she returned from running an errand in one of the shops around Oxford Street. Upon assessing my wardrobe that same morning, she had decided that the silk fabric covering a small section of my favourite fan needed replacing, and she had headed into town to get it mended. I suspected that the real reason behind her excursion was less diligent and revolved around the opportunity it gave her to find out more about the incident at Lady Dalrymple's ball the previous night, but I didn't complain. I was rather curious now as to what had exactly happened. She quickly obliged upon her return, as she was serving me a cup of tea.

  "It's everywhere, ma'am. A big scandal. Turns out, last night Mrs Darcy's youngest sister, Mrs Wickham, ran into Don Cosimo at the ball. Apparently, it was plain for everyone to see they were friends right enough, if you get my drift, with looks and dancing and what have you in full view of all guests."

  I couldn't help but blush upon recalling the web of lies that Don Cosimo had spun around me while he was flirting with Lydia behind my back. His letters, so charming and affectionate; our musical duet; our waltz that fateful evening under the eyes of so many people – they were all illusions. His affections were for another. I felt a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. How could a well-bred gentleman be capable of such evil concealment and scandalous behaviour? But Jones hadn't finished.

  "Then, out of the blue, the doors opened and in came the husband! He walked into the ballroom with his pistol in his hand, ma'am, as if he was at Waterloo and not in one of the most elegant houses in London. He went straight for his wife and her lover, and there was a big palaver, so I'm told, with the lady screaming and having a fit and guests restraining the men. Your friends Captain Wentworth and Captain Price got the Wickham man to drop the weapon, or who knows what might have happened."

  Jones was delighting in her storytelling, oblivious to my pallor.

  "Things took a turn for the worse when the daughter of the hostess, Miss Carteret, threw herself at the feet of the Italian prince, crying and asking him why he was so cruel towards her. Mrs Wickham jumped on her straightaway, so they say, and they started pulling each other's hair and screaming down the house! The yelling got louder, with Mr Wickham accusing Don Cosimo of seducing his wife and then deceiving her, and what have you."

  What Jones was retelling was extraordinary. I couldn't quite picture Miss Carteret humiliating herself so in public, but then I remembered her scathing looks every time Don Cosimo paid me any kind of attention, and realised that her contempt for me must have been hiding her fear of losing what little affection he had for her. Poor Miss Carteret, she must have been very much in love with him to behave in that manner.

  With a dramatic gesture, Jones inclined herself towards me.

  "People say there will be consequences," she whispered. "Apparently, the gentlemen have already arranged to meet at first light tomorrow morning on Primrose Hill."

  "A duel? Never!"

  "Oh, yes, ma'am. It's on everyone's lips. What with the husband being a soldier and the lover a nobleman, all bets point towards the same result. It's a bad business, ma'am. Very bad. For the family, too."

  Jones' brow was creased, her mouth twisted. She knew as well as I that it would be difficult for the Darcy name to stay out of the newspapers if there was indeed a duel and one of the two men lost his life as a result. The Darcys of Pemberley dragged into another scandal by the lady's side of the family; it had been bad enough when Lydia had run away with Wickham. Now, it was much worse.

  I thought of Don Cosimo's handsome features frozen in a mask of blood and death, his exquisitely embroidered white shirt stained red, his shapely lips forever parted. He had a soul as vain and selfish as that of his would-be killer, but it was a nonsensical way to die. And for a woman like Lydia too!

  There was a knock on the door. It was Cosette, informing me that Lady Catherine was requesting my company presently. I recalled the memory of my last visit to Elizabeth's sickroom; this one would be very different, I had no doubt about it.

  My aunt's maid opened the door for me in silence. The bedchamber was as ornate as the main drawing room, with delicate cornices and gilded detailing framing the silk-covered walls. The heavy purple curtains were only partially drawn, and it was much darker in there than in the parlour, so it took a few moments for my eyes to adjust and take everything in.

  My aunt was lying in her grand French bed, which, according to family legend, had belonged to the Duchess of Polignac and had been dismantled piece by piece and sent across to England on the eve of Louis XVI's execution. Lady Catherine was wearing a white gown and bonnet and looked very pale against the creamy silk of the upholstered headboard. Her eyeslids were closed, and her skin had a waxy texture as if it had melted around her cheeks, jaw and mouth. Then I noticed the dentures sitting on her bedside table. Whether they were ivory or porcelain, I wasn't able to ascertain, but it was yet another reminder that my formidable aunt was getting old.

  Lady Catherine opened one slate eye, then the other, and her corpse-like body slowly became alive, speaking with her usual frankness and a distorted voice that gave away her paucity of teeth.

  "Georgiana, that dress doesn't suit your complexion at all in this light. You must banish it from your wardrobe."

  Then, with a swift gesture, she grabbed the dentures and inserted them into her mouth. After some deft manoeuvring, she seemed satisfied with their positioning and continued her speech.

  "I know that the Colonel has been keeping you up-to-date with everything concerning my temporary indisposition. I dare say you must find my ill health rather inconvenient and must be disappointed that your social life has been so severely curtailed."

  I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised her hand.

  "I do not blame you in the slightest, Georgiana. After all, the pleasures that London has to offer must be a refreshing change from the long years you have spent locked in Pemberley. However, I must confess that in my current state I feel rather relieved that I am too unwell to act as your chaperone. In spite of my best intentions, and given the recent events, I believe I do not have the nerves to take you on a tour of the city's best drawing rooms and balls in quest of a suitable husband."

  "But Aunt –"

  She looked at me with her famously penetrating eyes.

  "Do not pretend that I do not know what I am talking about now. You must have heard about what happened last night, at Lady Dalrymple's ball; your maid is not stupid, and the whole city is gossiping about it. Don Cosimo was a charming suitor and a desirable match, a man of consequence and fortune with the right kind of connections. But you should have been on your guard. That waltz was scandalous, especially for an unmarried young woman like you. Some may say I'm from a different generation, but if you knew he had no intention to propose, you should have never accepted to dance with him."

  I blushed yet again at the recollection, and at my aunt's twisting of the events, but didn't say anything.

  "In my time, noblemen also had their indiscretions, but it was all carried out most properly and out of sight, and they certainly did not deceive young ladies into thinking they were about to ask for their hands, at least not deliberately. It must be all that foreign blood of his. An Englishman would have never acted in that manner."

  Lady Catherine was no longer looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on the patch of sky visible through the window hangings. In the dramatic light, she resembled an ancient tortoise who h
as seen everything in life. She turned in my direction, narrowed her eyes and her face turned into a grimace.

  "Don Cosimo may have fooled us, but he is the greater fool. To lose so much for the love of that wanton woman! That she is related to the Darcys only makes it worse. I knew things would be bad when your brother took that Bennet girl as a wife, but even in my worst nightmares I could not have anticipated the dishonour that she would bring to our family".

  My cheeks were burning with outrage at the insults addressed to someone so dear to me, but I dared not face my aunt's anger. I braced myself for more, but instead of further sullying my sister-in-law's name, Lady Catherine went quiet and looked pensive for few moments.

  "Yes, Don Cosimo has sorely disappointed me. How different his behaviour is from that of your cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam is so thoughtful and considerate. Did you know that after your brother was foolish enough to marry so beneath him, I contemplated him as a potential husband for poor dear Anne? She could have married anyone in England, but the more I reflected on their possible union, the more convinced I grew that it would be a perfectly suited match. What the Colonel lacks in fortune he makes up with his many personal charms, and Anne's sweet temper would have agreed with his affectionate disposition. Alas, she was very weak by then. It was never to be."

  Lady Catherine took a delicate lace handkerchief from under her pillowcase and brought it to the corners of her eyes.

  "Speaking of the Colonel, I might as well tell you that I have discussed you with him a few times in the last day or two, and he has shared some intelligence with me regarding some incident a few years back that has caused me no little pain. It has been so upsetting, in fact, that I would rather not allude to it. I am sure you know that which I refer to."

  I felt my skin crawl and fought down the urge to scratch myself until I bled. So she knew about my frustrated plans for elopement with Wickham. Cousin Fitzwilliam had betrayed my confidence, and my brother's as well. How dared he? I clenched my jaw, willed myself to keep silent and reveal nothing. My aunt ignored my agitation and continued to speak.