Love Never Fails

by Jennifer Joy

  Looking to cheer her, Elizabeth asked, “Who is Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  It worked. Lady Rutledge’s face lit up like a sparkling chandelier. "He is a cousin to Darcy. Being the second son and heir presumptive, he will not inherit the title nor the fortune of his family unless his elder brother is so unfortunate as to die, but he is an honorable man and would make a wonderful husband for the right lady. So long as that lady is not Miss Wharton!" She huffed and Elizabeth, full of questions about Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy, and Mrs. Wharton, followed her into the front parlor.

  Chapter 15

  They received Mrs. Wharton, and Lady Rutledge rang for tea to be brought in, taking care to give specific instructions to the maid. Her manners toward the lady were so friendly, it was no wonder Mrs. Wharton was clueless as to how much she was disliked.

  "How kind of you to call so early, Mrs. Wharton." Elizabeth thought she heard a hint of sarcasm in Lady Rutledge's voice.

  "I had to be the first to welcome your niece. I did not know that you had another niece besides Miss Bingley…" News traveled fast! Clearly, Mrs. Wharton fished for information.

  Elizabeth smiled as sweetly as Lady Rutledge, leaving it in her hands to do any explaining.

  "Oh, yes. My late husband's family, you know," she said in a low voice as if it were a secret she only entrusted to her closest friends.

  Mrs. Wharton's eyes brightened, and she sat back in her chair. "Of course." She looked at Elizabeth closely before declaring, "There is a strong family resemblance. I ought to have seen it."

  Elizabeth bit her lips and looked out of the window to better compose herself.

  "And how do you find London and your aunt, Miss Bennet?" Mrs. Wharton asked.

  "Very well," she said, daring not to reveal anything more until she could get her story straight with ‘Aunt’ Lavinia.

  Expertly coming to her assistance, Lady Rutledge said, "Elizabeth has lived all of her life in the country, which I am afraid is what accounts for her lacking wardrobe— something I aim to rectify today.” She shook her head in distaste, and Mrs. Wharton clucked in agreement. “I have not seen her since she was an infant. Her father passed away some months ago, and I felt it was the best time to renew our acquaintance. The Season is upon us, and I hope to divert her mind with the whirl of activities available. How lovely it would be if she and Miss Wharton could become friends."

  Mrs. Wharton narrowed her eyes. She was competition now.

  "Of course," Lady Rutledge continued, "I will take it upon myself to see that she is well-positioned to marry into a fortune. We hold no aspirations for a title— apparent or presumptive."

  And just like that, Mrs. Wharton's eyes softened and her warmth returned. "I shall have to introduce you to my daughter, Rosalind. I think you will be great friends."

  "I should like nothing more," Elizabeth said politely, in doubt of Mrs. Wharton's sincerity.

  The rosewood tea caddy and teapot were brought in and the small, round table was soon filled with china cups and saucers, silver spoons, cream, sugar, small cakes, bread and butter sandwiches, and assorted sweets which opened Elizabeth’s appetite and made her mouth water.

  Mrs. Wharton said, "You will never guess whom I saw on my way here." She paused, evidently hoping that someone would venture a guess. When nobody did, she continued, "I saw Colonel Fitzwilliam."

  The teapot Lady Rutledge held in her hands paused only long enough for Elizabeth to notice. If Mrs. Wharton had cared to look at her hostess' face at that moment, she might have cut her visit short. Elizabeth watched the scene before her— for she was certain there would indeed be a scene.

  Her senses heightened, Elizabeth heard Lady Rutledge exhale slowly as she continued pouring the tea. She looked at the sugar bowl.

  “I hope you like Souchong. I prefer its deep, smoky flavor over the green teas.” She motioned for Mrs. Wharton to help herself, a suggestion she took eagerly as she heaped three teaspoons of sugar into her teacup and stirred.

  Lady Rutledge, also, stirred one level teaspoon of sugar into her tea.

  When Elizabeth moved her hand toward the sugar bowl, Lady Rutledge covered the top with her hand. How strange. If sugar was to be denied her, she would indulge in a scone with cream. She had not had sugar in her tea since Lydia had used the last of it in what seemed like an eternity ago.

  Her lips enclosed around the silky cream at the same time Mrs. Wharton took her first sip of tea. Elizabeth nearly choked as Mrs. Wharton’s expression changed from one of elated satisfaction to that of a shriveled prune. Her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth pinched as her face contorted. When she finally opened her eyes, they were teary and glaring daggers at Lady Rutledge.

  Lifting her teacup to sip delicately, Lady Rutledge lifted a plate of pastries and offered one to Mrs. Wharton, then took another sip of her steaming tea. “Hmm. Most refreshing. Please have a biscuit Mrs. Wharton. You look as if you need it. Is your tea too hot? Some consider Souchong to be an acquired taste.”

  Mrs. Wharton looked between Lady Rutledge and the teacup she drank from. So did Elizabeth. If the sugar had been replaced, as Elizabeth suspected it had, then Lady Rutledge did not seem to notice. She poured herself another cup and dropped another teaspoonful of ‘sugar’ into it.

  With a groan, Mrs. Wharton reached for a biscuit. She looked with longing at the strawberry preserves, but thought better of it.

  No more mention was made of Colonel Fitzwilliam, nor of any other subject for that matter. Mrs. Wharton clutched at her stomach and ate her biscuit as quickly as she could, occasionally licking her lips as if consumed by a great thirst. The remainder of her tea continued untouched in her cup.

  Lady Rutledge reached over and rested her hand on Mrs. Wharton’s arm. “Mrs. Wharton, you do not look well. Is there anything I can have fetched for you?”

  Mrs. Wharton said, “Lady Rutledge, did you not taste anything… different… in your tea?”

  Her eyes wide in innocence, Lady Rutledge took another sip out of her cup, savoring it in her mouth. “It tastes the same as always to me. Mrs. Wharton, shall I call for your carriage to be brought around? You really look unwell. Or would you rather I send for my doctor?”

  “I think I will return home. Thank you, Lady Rutledge. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet.” Her chair toppled as she hastily stood and, without further ado, she bustled out of the parlor with Lady Rutledge trailing behind her to ensure her safe entry into her carriage.

  Now the sole occupant of the room, Elizabeth tasted a few of the white granules from the sugar bowl. It was as she suspected. Salt.

  When Lady Rutledge returned to the parlor, she paused when she saw Elizabeth watching her. She crossed her arms defensively.

  "Why did you trade the sugar for salt?" Elizabeth asked, more curious than upset at her action.

  When she did not reply, only moved her jaw back and forth as she tried not to look guilty, Elizabeth repeated, "What else do you have against Mrs. Wharton?"

  "Realize, my good niece, that I am under no obligation to answer your questions but will do so because I have a tendency to like you."

  Effectively put in her place and figuratively slapped on the wrist for her inquisitiveness, Elizabeth waited for a response.

  "Mrs. Wharton has a daughter who came out at the same time as Caroline. Just like Caroline, she is a tradesman's daughter and in possession of a sizable dowry. She also stands to inherit a great deal when…, but that is beside the point."

  Elizabeth could not help but notice how quickly Lady Rutledge changed the subject. Did she do so on her account? Was she sensitive enough to her feelings to avoid comparing the advantages some young ladies would have at their father's death when hers had left her, her mother, and her sisters destitute unless she married for convenience? Elizabeth felt it even if Lady Rutledge did not. Why had Father done nothing to improve their situation? How could he leave them as he did?

  Feeling her cheeks burn, she heard Lady Rutledge continue, �
�… her son for making inappropriate advances on the young lady walking with him. Normally, I am happy to turn the other way and let young lovers have their stolen kiss, but she did not look as if she appreciated his attentions. For one lady to have two foolish children speaks volumes against her abilities as a parent. It serves him right that I flattened his foot!”

  Elizabeth would have laughed if she had not been too shocked. She would take care never to make an enemy out of Lady Rutledge!

  Her rant far from over about the many faults of the Whartons, Lady Rutledge added, "Imagine the nerve! She means to marry her daughter off to Colonel Fitzwilliam. They would be the worst mismatched couple in all of England. The colonel needs a lady with a strong mind— otherwise he would soon enough grow bored. He needs a woman to challenge him and keep him on his toes— as befits a man who has grown accustomed to excitement during his years in His Majesty's Army."

  Elizabeth, happy to focus on anything but her own feelings, as uncomfortable and disagreeable as they were, said, "And you think that Miss Bingley would suit him better?"

  Lady Rutledge shrugged her shoulders. "That remains to be seen. Caroline has had her eyes on Darcy for so long, it would take an act of God to change her target."

  Elizabeth's gut wrenched unexpectedly. Clutching her stomach, she said, "If Miss Bingley is so determined, I do not see what prevents her from achieving her goal." She prayed that Lady Rutledge would give her a reason to doubt Miss Bingley's success. She had no right to expect that Mr. Darcy could love a lowly companion— he knew the truth of her situation. Not that she hoped he loved her. She certainly did not love him! Though she did admire him a great deal…

  "It is true. Caroline will stop at nothing until she secures him. I just hate to see her sell herself short."

  Speaking before she could stop herself, Elizabeth said, "Sell herself short? With Mr. Darcy?"

  "Do not tell me that you, too, have your sights on him, Eliza. He would hardly look twice at a young lady in any form of service— however appropriate and well-disguised it may be. And in a competition with Caroline, I fear you would come out the loser, my dear. She has been working on him for too long now to so easily give up without a fight." Her speech was so matter-of-fact, it chided Elizabeth all the more to hear it.

  It took all she had not to reply sarcastically about Miss Bingley's inability to catch the gentleman in her sights in a more reasonable amount of time, but she held her tongue. She sat up taller, remembering that she was a gentleman's daughter with nothing to be ashamed of.

  Lady Rutledge poured the rest of her tea into a nearby plant. "You have no idea how difficult it was to swallow this vile beverage."

  "Why did you do it?" She softened toward Lady Rutledge. She had, after all, prevented Elizabeth from stirring salt into her tea— a choice she did not take away from herself.

  "It would have been horribly rude not to. Had I not put any in my own tea, she could have openly accused me of giving her salt. I gave her reason to doubt. Better her think she is crazy than slander me as a poor hostess. Besides, how was I to know it was not sugar? There must have been a blunder in the kitchen."

  Unconvinced, Elizabeth pressed, "You did not know it was salt?"

  Pouring another cup for both of them, Lady Rutledge said coolly, "Does it really matter?"

  After a long afternoon of dress fittings, Elizabeth returned home with a day dress in sprigged muslin and an elegant dinner gown with green netting fit for events of a more social nature. Lady Rutledge had insisted that she have one, for she intended on inviting several friends over for a dinner party at the end of the week.

  Now that her mourning period was over, she was in need of a few dresses. She could not wear gray, stripes, and black ribbons forever— especially with the London Season upon them. How had six months passed already? In some ways, it felt like an eternity had gone. So much had happened. So much had changed. Yet, it seemed that only yesterday Father had returned home from Hunsford. He had been in a merry mood and declared that he felt better than he had in the past few months. His optimism and high humor made his sudden death all the more devastating. It had been unexpected.

  Fighting against the gloom of her sudden turn of thoughts, Elizabeth went to the library to sort her feelings. She would not be a good companion if she continued morose, but the struggle between joy and sorrow sometimes overwhelmed her. She hoped Lady Rutledge would include Uncle and Aunt Gardiner with Jane in her party.

  She could, at least, take comfort that Mr. Darcy would be there.

  Chapter 16

  Elizabeth tensed when Mr. Darcy walked into to the room in his evening clothes. He stood half a head taller than the other gentlemen in the room. His hair curled around the tip of his high collar, just shy of his perfectly tied cravat. There was nothing outlandish in his dress. To the contrary. He wore doeskin breeches with a white shirt and cream waistcoat, topped with a fitted black coat that showed how wide his shoulders were. He was the most elegant man in the room full of young gentlemen and ladies dressed to catch one another’s eye.

  Mr. Bingley kissed his aunt on the cheek and paused when he faced Elizabeth, a look of consternation on his face. "I apologize, Cousin… Eliza… beth, for my uncertainty, but I do not quite know how to greet you."

  Elizabeth understood his predicament well. "Seeing how we are really only recent acquaintances, I can only expect you to greet me as you would a recent friend. I am happy to see you this evening," she said, looking between Mr. and Miss Bingley. "There is much about my own family that I do not know," she added for the benefit of anyone listening. Lady Rutledge showed her approval with a smile.

  Her answer pleased Mr. Bingley, and he bowed with such vigor, Elizabeth leaned back to avoid a collision. Miss Bingley, on the other hand, curtsied with her nose up in the air. All the better with which to look down at Elizabeth. "Are you well settled into your new…" she looked over to see if Mr. Darcy was paying attention before she added, "position, Miss Eliza?"

  Lady Rutledge furled her brows at her niece. "If you are referring to her new position in society, I assure you, we shall have Eliza well set before the end of the Season," she answered in an icy tone. "I am relying on you especially, Caroline, to show your cousin the ins and outs of the ton and to help her make friends." She stared at Miss Bingley until the young lady flared her nostrils and jutted out her chin.

  "Very well," she said in a manner which bode ill for Elizabeth. What a turn in attitude from their previous meeting!

  Lady Rutledge held her hand out for Mr. Darcy to bow over, which he did with a warm smile, followed by a bow to Elizabeth. Miss Bingley hovered at listening distance.

  "Mr. Darcy, how good of you to grace us with your presence. You so rarely come to these things, I half expected you not to show yourself." Lady Rutledge fluttered her fan as she did her eyelashes, clearly aware that the violet color of her fan complimented her eyes. Mother could learn a trick or two from her.

  Miss Bingley added, her nose pointed up in the air, “Mr. Darcy is too grand to mix in company with just anyone. Of course he would come here to see his closest friends.” Obviously, she considered herself a great deal more important to Mr. Darcy than he did. He ignored her comment completely.

  The complaint against Mr. Darcy confused Elizabeth. He had never been anything but gentlemanly toward her, and she could not imagine him acting in a way to upset any lady. Surely, he must have had his reasons for not attending before.

  With a glance at Elizabeth, he said, "I can only apologize for not tending to your requests earlier. When I am in town, I am afraid that business affairs take up a good deal of my time, and I am not always free to do as I would please."

  Lady Rutledge waved her fan at him. "You are here now, and that is all that matters. Now, I have a special favor that I must ask of you. I have it on good authority that you and Eliza were formerly acquainted. Since she knows so few of my friends here tonight, would you do me the favor of escorting her into the dining room when dinner is
served?" She looked haughtily in the direction of Miss Bingley, whose lips were pursed so tightly, they had lost all color.

  "It would be my pleasure." He bowed his head toward Elizabeth, and a curl of hair once more fell over his forehead. A dimple on his cheek flashed as he pushed it away from his face. Was he as pleased as she was that she was to sit by him at dinner?

  A man in an army coat came in, and Lady Rutledge not-so-graciously moved Mr. Darcy off to the side toward Elizabeth and away from Miss Bingley with a push from her fan. "Colonel Fitzwilliam! How delightful you could come!"

  The colonel bowed over her hand, then to Miss Bingley, and then wrapped his arm around Mr. Darcy's back in a half embrace. In a voice just as deep as Mr. Darcy’s, but without the softness, he said, "And what did you do to lure my cousin out of his lair?"

  Surely the lighting in the room played tricks on her eyes. Though Mr. Darcy's face revealed nothing, his ears looked like they had been lit up by candles.

  "Richard. As always, it is interesting to see you." Moving to the side to allow more room, he presented Elizabeth to his cousin. Colonel Fitzwilliam looked between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth, an expression similar to a little boy who had managed to eat the last biscuit in the jar on his face. Mr. Darcy’s ears would catch fire if they burned any brighter.

  With a graceful bow, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet. Do you plan to stay long in town?"

  "I am here at the whim of my aunt, so will stay as long as it pleases her." She smiled at the gentleman. He was not handsome like his cousin. He was rather plain, but he oozed charm through his pores, and Elizabeth could not help but like him instantly. Even Miss Bingley looked kindly toward him.

  Dinner was announced, preventing further conversation.

  Mr. Darcy held his arm out to Elizabeth, and she took it, her eyes on Miss Bingley to see her reaction. While she felt a measure of satisfaction in her small victory, she did not want to make enemies among Lady Rutledge's real family. She must give the impression of being a relative to appease Lady Rutledge's vanity, but she felt more and more like an impostor as Miss Bingley looked at her with something that could be nothing less than hatred.