Mr. Darcy stared at her for a moment, and the moment stretched so long that Elizabeth began to wonder why he did not simply bow and walk away from her. Had not this most unpleasant exchange lasted long enough? Yet he did not go; he seemed rather to wish to continue their conversation—a conversation that was perhaps one of the most unpleasant Elizabeth had ever had in her life!
Finally, he spoke again, and the curiosity in his tone disarmed her. “Do not you think it unwise, Miss, to be so cavalier about a good connection? After all, what is more influential than a relationship with a family such as theirs? Is not it wise to maintain such a connection?”
Elizabeth replied, “I do not know what is wise; I only know what my conscience guides me to do.”
Mr. Darcy’s lips formed the word “conscience,” but his voice was silent. Elizabeth was not a fool; she knew that her status was more or less contingent on her stepmother’s provisions for her. She would not be a pupil of the school where she had obtained her finishing education, nor a resident of London, nor suited with any of the gowns, jewelry, or other possessions she currently owned if not for the generosity of that lady. Yet she felt she could not depend on Lady Sarah, her connections, or her provisions. This summer in particular had proven to her that she ought not to depend on anything or anybody that was only hers while she was in a position of relative favor with her stepmother. Wisdom and honor, too, were on her side—but how could she explain such a conviction to Mr. Darcy? How could she explain it to anybody?
At last, Mr. Darcy said, “Very well. I shall impose on you no longer, Miss Bennet.” He bowed and turned to leave her. Elizabeth hastily turned her head toward the dancing, feeling all the awkwardness of sitting out a dance—an event which rarely occurred for a young lady so pretty and popular. It was an uncomfortable, humiliating feeling, and Elizabeth longed for it to end. The first dance was not yet complete, and no eligible partners materialized as Elizabeth watched her sister and friend dance by her with smiles on their faces and laughter in their eyes.
Elizabeth, however, did not feel much like laughing. Her only consolation was that she was soon asked to dance by a young man of Miss Whipple’s acquaintance, and neither her cousin nor Miss Whipple’s approached her again.
CHAPTER 11
__________
When you are rich and well-connected, many social faux pas can be forgiven. This must have been the explanation for Lord Norwich’s not falling out of favor with Miss Whipple, for the following morning, neither the argument with Jane nor the neglect of the gentleman seemed to be remembered by her. Instead, her first words to Elizabeth were the following:
“Miss Elizabeth, I have been thinking. It is abominably rude of me to think I can keep you all to myself when you have so many connections in town. Should you not call on your aunt and uncle Radcliffe?”
Elizabeth turned toward her in confusion. “The Earl and Countess? But why?”
Miss Whipple did not even bother feigning a laugh, which began to alert Elizabeth to the urgency of her pursuit of Lord Norwich.
“Because they are your intimate connections. Honestly! If I had a stepmother whose brother was the Earl Radcliffe, I would never be so cavalier about it as you and your sister. You act as though a connection with that family is something to conceal!”
“It is not that we wish to conceal it,” Elizabeth remarked, “but rather that there is very little to show. We do not correspond with our stepmother’s family by letter. They do not visit us when we are at Longbourn, and they have never invited us to come to them in town.”
“Perhaps they are unaware of your address,” Miss Whipple said dryly.
“They are not,” Elizabeth answered. “I assure you, they think of us very little, and it is quite mutual.”
At this, Miss Whipple barked a laugh. “How can you say so? Are they not your best connections?”
It was as though Elizabeth was arguing with Mr. Darcy all over again. The thought, inexplicably, made Elizabeth smile. Miss Whipple was a cousin of his, after all. Perhaps their prejudices were a familial trait. “No, they are not,” Elizabeth replied shortly.
“Indeed? Then who is?”
“You,” Elizabeth replied.
Miss Whipple laughed heartily, as Elizabeth had known she would, and did not take up the subject with her again. Elizabeth was too stubborn to work on in such a case as this, and Miss Whipple was too clever to waste her energy there. She knew which sister was persuadable, and her strategy became to hide from Elizabeth the fact that she was continually working to convince Jane to write a letter to her aunt and uncle.
Meanwhile, Miss Whipple also had an aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Hadley, who were among the most fashionable and wealthy people in London. Mrs. Hadley and her husband were settled in an estate north of town, and they were to celebrate the coming out of their youngest daughter with a private ball on Saturday. It was essential that the best people in London be on the guest list, and Miss Whipple had told her aunt and uncle that she was acquainted with the Radcliffe family and could deliver to them an invitation. It was, of course, a lie that could only be justified by her love for her cousin Annabelle and her wish of ensuring her coming of age celebration was the absolute finest of its kind.
“It will be just the thing,” Miss Whipple told Jane one day in private, while Elizabeth was writing a letter to Miss Watson in another room. “Of course, all our family connections will be present—but friends, as well. Everyone who is anyone. Now, before you make yourself uneasy, I do not think Mr. Pembroke will be present. He knows you are my guests, and his brother was just married, moreover, so he is likely to be paying a wedding visit to them. He is always visiting somebody, you know.”
Jane was almost too befuddled by this whirlwind of speech to reply and could only manage a simple smile before Miss Whipple barreled on.
“Dear Annabelle is so lovely, but I am afraid she is nervous. Being only fifteen and coming out in so public a fashion—it is certain to spoil her, if she were not the dearest, sweetest girl in the world—and I assure you, she is! She absolutely is. I quite dote on her, and my mother and father do, as well. I suppose you know, they will be at the party, too. They are coming home just in time for it.” The ladies had just received a letter the day before from Mr. and Mrs. Whipple that their visit to a friend in France was to be cut short, and as a result they were to come briefly to London to brighten the eyes of their neglected daughter.
“That is fortunate, to be sure,” Jane said. “Your cousin need not worry about anything. It seems as though all will be very pleasant. Lizzy and I were delighted to be invited.”
“It should be pleasant enough,” Miss Whipple went on, “but with only the same people she is used to seeing everywhere, I am afraid it will be disappointing to her. I wish we had some new acquaintances whom we could invite to her party. I keep saying party, but it shall be a ball—quite the thing, to be sure.”
Jane smiled. “With so sweet a disposition, I wonder that you can think she would be disappointed. I flatter myself she is not unlike me. I know I can be happy wherever I am. I need not be particular.” Then, shaking her head to clear her mind, she added, “Her parents are being very liberal in giving so grand a party—nay, excuse me, a ball for her coming out. I would have been too gratified for words if my father and stepmother had held such an event for me.”
“Oh, la,” Miss Whipple said with a wave of her hand, “they only did not because there were so many other engagements that year. Your brother was born, was not he?”
He was, and Jane began to reply to that effect when Miss Whipple interrupted, “In any case, I do not mean to compare her to anybody else, or to say she would not be just as good to us as ever. She loves her family, and she is always very grateful when anybody shows her kindness, great or small. No, I only meant that I wish I could do something that I know would make her just that much happier.”
“What do you mean?” Jane prompted when Miss Whipple did not go on.
“Why, provide
new acquaintances, as I told you!” she cried.
“That should be easy,” Jane answered mildly. “If your aunt and uncle will permit you to invite other guests, I am sure there are many people among your own acquaintance who—”
“Nay, she has seen everybody,” Miss Whipple replied. “She comes everywhere we go, when our parents are all in town. She knows everyone whom I could presume to know well enough to invite.”
“Then—”
“However,” Miss Whipple continued, looking at Jane with a look of surprise at her own cleverness, “you know many persons whom we would not be justified in inviting. Perhaps you could invite guests of your own to the ball.”
Jane inhaled deeply. “I am not sure I know anybody you do not know. We have been in school together for so long and attend all the same parties. I cannot imagine who would fit the purpose. I…suppose we could speak to our aunt and uncle.”
“Yes, yes!” Miss Whipple said. Then, forcing herself to be calm, she added, “That is precisely what I hoped you would say.”
“Lizzy corresponds with Aunt Gardiner, so she might be the most proper person.”
Miss Whipple looked blankly at her for a moment, then said, “Oh, no, Jane, not your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner! I thought you meant your Aunt and Uncle Radcliffe!”
“My—do you mean the Earl and Countess Radcliffe? Why, I hardly consider them on such terms that I could invite them to a ball!”
“Why not? They are your stepmother’s brother and his wife, are they not?”
“Yes, but I daresay—”
“They consider you their niece, I am sure! Just remember how your cousin greeted you at Mrs. Jacobson’s ball.”
“It was the first time we had seen him in many years.”
“He looked as though he would not be sorry to see you again,” Miss Whipple replied with a knowing look.
Jane was too intelligent to be ignorant of her own charms, but too good-natured and modest to enjoy praise of them. She quickly redirected the conversation, saying, “I am sorry to disappoint your cousin, but I do not see how an invitation from me could ever be accepted, even if it were proper for me to make it. Lady Sarah would be angry, as well.”
“Why should she be?”
Jane could not answer this without breaking her own resolution of never speaking ill of her stepmother. She could not reply, and this silence was encouragement enough for Miss Whipple to keep at her for days, every time Elizabeth was not within earshot, insisting she renew her acquaintance with her aunt and uncle and invite the entire family to her cousins’ ball. It at last came to pass that Jane, who was too agreeable to resist anybody’s persuasion for long, saw the invitation as a courtesy and gesture of friendship that perhaps would be worse not to make. After all, she had seen her cousin recently, and now she and her sister were probably known by the Radcliffe family to be in town. If her aunt and uncle did not know where she was staying, then it was incumbent upon her to inform them, at the very least. If, moreover, she was ever to make a gesture of friendship that was mutually gratifying, this ball was the exact event that would suit both parties. Indeed, it was unlikely that any other event would ever take place that was so perfect a setting for a meeting. The longer Jane considered the idea, the more she conformed to Miss Whipple’s way of thinking.
The day was rainy and rather dreary when Jane elected to make the trip to her uncle’s house and leave her card for the Earl and Countess.
“Are you going out?” Elizabeth asked when she saw Jane preparing for the carriage.
“Oh! Yes, indeed.”
After waiting a moment for Jane to elaborate, Elizabeth said, “Are you going alone?”
“No, of course not. A servant is to attend me.”
Another silence followed, and then, “But where can you be going? I did not know we had any engagements this morning.”
“We do not.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth watched Jane carefully. Her face was turned away and seemed almost red. A fleeting thought of Mr. Dixon occurred to Elizabeth, and with the thought, the realization that Jane had not mentioned him lately. “Are you calling on somebody I know?”
“How do you know I am calling on anybody?”
“I do not know. Now, Jane,” Elizabeth said, laughing. “You are being rather coy, are you not?”
Jane looked up at last and smiled, but she appeared ill at ease. “I am calling on someone you know as well as I do, though neither of us know them very well. I am going to Arlington Street.”
There was only one family Elizabeth knew at that address, and she looked up with a start. “What? But why?”
“Why should I not? They are our relations, Elizabeth—our near relations.”
“Not really,” Elizabeth said. “They never talk to us. We never see them without Lady Sarah; they never call.”
“How could they, when they do not know our address?” Jane replied. “But I know theirs, so it is a matter of simple politeness that I call there.”
Elizabeth was quiet for a moment. If there was any reason to suspect that the Radcliffes were desirous of, or even open to, the acquaintance, then this would be true—but Elizabeth did not believe such was the case here. “This is a sudden idea, is it not?”
“It is Miss Whipple’s idea, and she and I have been discussing it for days.”
“Ah, now I understand. You were commissioned by Miss Whipple to procure an introduction to them.”
“No! Indeed not. She has only suggested that I deliver an invitation, which I am most happy to bring, as I am sure it will not be misconstrued as rudeness. I am sure that the Earl and Countess will be most pleased to be invited."
“Invited? To what?”
At this prompting, Jane revealed the whole of the plan, and Elizabeth was too disgusted to say anything more about it. To be sure, a family with good connections like the Hadleys was not unsuitable as acquaintances for the Radcliffes, but that Jane should be the means of connecting them was most peculiar. She would seem to be putting herself forward, presuming to have the right to introduce one friend to another when both were of a higher rank and station in society than herself. However, none of these arguments would have any weight with Jane; they were the same as what she had made herself in her refusals to Miss Whipple, yet somehow their friend’s confidence had shooed away them all—despite the knowledge Jane ought to have had of Miss Whipple’s true intentions and reason for desiring the acquaintance. Jane would go to Arlington Street, and the invitation would be given, along with a card that implied intimacy between the girls and their aunt and uncle which was not theirs to establish.
Jane was not out long. Her return brought Miss Whipple downstairs, for she had spent the morning in her room—probably to avoid Elizabeth’s disapproval. Elizabeth did disapprove, but she said nothing and allowed Jane’s story—and her discomfort with it—to speak for itself.
“Did you invite them to the ball?” Miss Whipple asked eagerly, hardly waiting for Jane to enter the room before accosting her.
“I did,” Jane said, removing her bonnet and handing it to the servant.
“Well? Did they say they would attend?”
“They did not say anything about it,” Jane replied. “They were rather surprised that I conveyed no note from Lady Sarah, however. They seemed to feel it the only reasonable excuse for calling.”
Elizabeth cringed, but Miss Whipple said, “Nonsense, Miss Bennet. I am sure they were only surprised, and surprise does not necessitate displeasure.”
Jane sat on the sofa and said, “I was not invited even to sit down. I gave Mrs. Hadley’s card, and ours, and after the Countess asked about Lady Sarah, she said I could go.”
“I wonder that she said she was home, if she was so disinclined for chat,” Miss Whipple commented.
“I believe she only wanted news of Lady Sarah. Our stepmother is not the most faithful correspondent with her family in London. I believe they all wish that she were.”
Elizabeth greatly pitied Jane the awkward
ness of the encounter, though she felt her sister had, through neglect of her own better judgment, largely gotten what was deserved. The Radcliffes were not warm or friendly, and they had certainly never approved of Lady Sarah’s marriage to the girls’ father. There was no reason to expect any welcome from them now, just because the two eldest Bennet girls happened also to be in town. Jane ought to have known this, as Elizabeth did. She certainly knew it now.
“They could have at least mentioned the invitation,” Miss Whipple said, rather in a huff. “The ball is on Saturday—only four days away! We must inform Mrs. Hadley if they are not to come.”
Finally, Elizabeth spoke. “Why, can they not send their own note of acceptance or refusal? They have Mrs. Hadley’s card, have not they?”
Miss Whipple said impatiently, “Yes, but I have already told my aunt that we are confident they will come.” As soon as the words left her lips, she snapped her jaw shut, evidently embarrassed at having admitted to Elizabeth what she knew she would not approve.
But Elizabeth, having spent more than two weeks with Miss Whipple already, and having gone to school with her for years besides, could not be surprised by her behaving in a manner that was consistent with her character, wishes, and goals. She only said, “Then Mrs. Hadley will learn of their attendance directly from the source.”
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