“Yes. I think it is Mrs Dalrymple.”
“Is she attended by the aforementioned ‘preferred’ footman?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Excellent, then I shall get a good look at him.”
Six
Also kept indoors by the rain, only a few streets away but separated by the River Avon, in the study of his parents’ temporary residence at Milsom Street, was Colonel Fitzwilliam. He had planned to have the pleasure of attaching a horse to a gig and driving at some considerable speed out of the town and up Lansdown Hill, just for the sheer enjoyment of the journey and the view. His disappointment was palpable. “Tis a shame about the weather,” he said for the umpteenth time.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, used to the inclemency of Derbyshire, had calmly accepted the change in plans and was sat writing letters of business. The Colonel paced up and down the room before him, in want of anything better to do.
“What can you have to do that keeps you busy all day?” the Colonel teased. “I cannot fathom you men of great estates and your constant correspondence! You vastly exaggerate your responsibilities. Surely all that needs doing is the collecting of vast amounts of rent, and then you may roll about in your piles of pound notes till nightfall.”
“Oh, yes. Tis all very simple, there are no tenant disputes, no flooding or ruined crops. No diseased livestock or corrupt stewards. My patronage of the church and the decisions to be made when bestowing or removing a living are not a bother at all. And, Pemberley, well it runs itself, there are never issues between servants to resolve, no costly but necessary repairs always to be made. You are correct. I am quite an indolent man, always at leisure.” Looking up from the desk, Darcy paused in his writing and smiled. “We will rearrange your excursion for another day.”
“When we do, I will drive Georgiana. I’ll leave you to Miss Bingley. If she comes in my gig I might be tempted to overturn it on purpose, in the hope she might be thrown off and break her neck.”
“A little extreme, Cousin, do you really dislike her so much?”
“I have been wondering how we might relieve ourselves of her company.”
“She is a guest here by Georgiana’s invitation. What would you have me do? I can hardly be giving her a hint to go.”
“I am not sure she is a good influence, she is sly and insincere. Why is Georgiana so keen on her in any case, surely she has better friends?”
Darcy put down his pen. “There are very few people she might call a friend. I am afraid I have done wrong by Georgiana by not forcing her out into the world more. Our father died around the time when she might have gone to school and she begged not to be sent away. I gave in to her pleas because I did not have the heart to make her unhappier. I then surrounded her with governesses and older paid companions and masters, rather than encouraging her to mix with girls her own age. I had hoped that with my marriage…that Anne might…but, well. We are left with Miss Bingley.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam stopped his pacing, struck by an idea. “I was just wondering if we might take her to call on Miss Bennet. She is in Laura Place, not more than a ten minute walk across the bridge. Perhaps we could forward a friendship for Georgiana there. Would she not be a better companion? Miss Bennet is confident and sociable; she has excellent manners and taste. They share a love of music. Georgiana spoke very freely to her the other night outside the theatre.”
“I do not think it a good plan.” Darcy frowned.
“Why so? Oh, you disapproved of some of Miss Bennet’s connections, did you not? I remember you once saying her mother was coarse and her sisters lacked breeding. But there is no difficulty there. Miss Bennet told me she is with her aunt on a permanent basis and nobody could object to Mrs Mountford, surely. And, when she is at home, she is in Staffordshire, which borders Derbyshire. They might well be within thirty miles of each other. Visits between Miss Bennet and Georgiana could be quite easily arranged.”
Darcy took up his pen again and pretended to set about writing, for there was so much in this speech to think on that he needed to give himself time to consider. How rude he had once been about the Bennets! And then, not content with talking so disparagingly about her family to his cousin and others, he had gone on to insult her loved ones directly to her, during what should have been the most romantic of moments, a proposal! This however, was still not enough for Fitzwilliam Darcy, who did nothing by halves. He had capped it all off by repeating such abuse in that dreadful, bitter letter. By God, he hoped she had ripped it into a hundred pieces and thrown it in the fire. The anger he’d felt the other night at the theatre had been unjust - the blame for the awful incident at Hunsford lay solely at his door, and he had long known that the drubbing down she had given him that day had been well deserved – yet, he was still unreasonably cross with her; for appearing so suddenly before him without warning and disturbing his newfound peace. He did not know what to think or feel. That she lived within half a day’s travel of Pemberley surprised him, and his cousin’s suggestion she might visit there one day, as Georgiana’s friend, shook him to the core. When at last he spoke, he did so carefully, his words measured and slow. He was eager not to betray any emotion. “You cannot urge on or force a friendship, it is a thing that grows naturally. If Miss Bennet and Georgiana meet often in Bath and like each other, that is all very well, but I beg you not to go calling on her. Do not push the matter.”
“Hmm, I suppose you are right. Now, what do you say to tonight’s plan? Mamma has the Upper Rooms in mind.”
“Well that is good for me, being a man who does not like to dance, play cards or drink tea, no doubt I shall find it exceedingly entertaining,” Darcy replied with a sigh.
The weather abated enough for the ladies of Laura Place to step out on foot at two o’clock. Their purpose, shopping in Edgar Buildings, was completed after an hour and while Mrs Mountford wished to return home, Elizabeth declared she would walk further and set off for Pulteney Bridge alone, with the intention of strolling in the gardens below it for a while.
She had not got far on her excursion, however, before the weather frowned on her and the rain came again. Having pressed her umbrella on Mrs Mountford before they’d parted ways, she was forced to seek shelter by the window of a printshop, which had an upper storey overhanging the lower one, so making it useful for keeping her dry. No sooner had she dashed under it than she realised she was not the only refugee from the rain and saw the gentleman of the green coat and fine waistcoat, who had looked at her at the theatre the previous evening. He smiled brightly. She nodded curtly and looked away.
“Before you arrived, I was just examining this print.” From the corner of her eye she saw him use his stick to point up at a print in the window. “What is your opinion? I declare I never saw such a poor rendition of a scene. Look at your man atop his horse there, why he has one boot twice as big as the other. And while I say horse, it is the size of a young pony. It would never bear the weight of that great lump of a man would it?”
“I know nothing of art, sir and even less of horses,” she responded, but nevertheless, found herself glancing quickly up at the window before turning back to the street.
“Well, you might look at this atrocity for a hundred years and still know nothing.” He leaned to the side to try and catch her eye and smiled once more. He really was very handsome. He had an open, boyish look about him, with fair hair and blue eyes; but the confidence of an older man. She would have guessed him to be about six or seven and twenty. He was not very tall. Elizabeth herself was petite and he was only an inch or so above her. She had to admit she found his manners delightfully playful, but his addressing her in such a way, as if she were a close confidant, rather than a stranger, was rather impertinent. “So you do not draw then? Mmm,” he went on, “then where might your talent lie? For all young ladies must have a talent for the attracting of young men. Let me hazard a guess that you net purses remarkably well. No, no, no, that will not do; such solitary, patient activity would not suit you.”
He put a hand to his mouth and gasped. “I have it. The answer has come to me. You play the pianoforte. You delight everybody who hears you and although you always say you play a ‘little’, as your modesty requires, in actual fact, you are quite the proficient. How those little fingers of yours fly about.”
Trying to hide a smile, she gave him a reproachful look. “Sir, we have not been introduced.”
“No, you are right, quite right. We must observe the rules of propriety; the dictates of polite society. We must stand here until the rain stops and rudely ignore each other, in the name of civility.”
“I do not make the rules, sir, but I am obliged to follow them, if you will allow me.”
He gave a little bow of apology and Elizabeth turned back to study the rain. There was no sign of it stopping.
She heard him give an affected, heavy sigh beside her. “If only there was someone here to introduce us. Then you might know my name is Frederick Yorke and that I hail from Devonshire; respectable family, decent living. I have two sisters, one fat, one thin, both very sweet and amiable. But seeing as there is no one to introduce us, you might never know these things.”
She folded her hands across her chest and looked at him as sternly as she could manage.
“Oh, I have made you cross at me. Well, I shall bother you no more. In fact, now I have seen your temper, I have no wish whatsoever to know you, or your name, Miss…. I shall not suggest to you that it might begin with an A? No, I see it is not an A. Is it B?”
Her mouth twitched, only so slightly, she could not help it and he noticed.
“What luck that you are at the beginning of the alphabet, or it might have taken some time, Miss B. Now, would you be a Brown? No, not pretty enough, does not suit you at all. Barrett?”
Elizabeth shook her head, a little astonished at how close he had come and was quite convinced his next guess would very well be Bennet. “You are really very inappropriate, sir.”
“I know, might you forgive me? I am normally very well behaved, I promise. I do hope, sincerely, that we might soon be properly introduced and perhaps one day I might even have the pleasure of hearing you play.”
“I never did agree that I played,” she protested, but was privately pleased with his flattery.
“Ah but I saw in your lovely eyes that I was right and such eyes would never lie. And now, I see from your expression that I really have gone too far. I shall take a soaking as my punishment and depart. I wish you a very good day.” He doffed his hat and stepped out into the rain, while Elizabeth pretended not to watch him go.
Seven
Caroline Bingley thought her appearance at the Upper Rooms a triumph. She caused many to stare, or make a double glance, or give a gasp of surprise. She believed herself to be in the very best of looks. Although now eight and twenty, she created more of a stir during her entrance than some of the younger, flightier misses and she put it down to the true nobleness of her mien, her air and the grace she possessed in her way of walking. She was pleased to have come to Bath. This was a place where her sense of style would be truly appreciated, her manners extolled, her beauty admired! London had become somewhat tiresome; the same old parties and people, and the less said about her time at her brother’s estate in Surrey, the better. What country bumpkins she had been forced into company with there! She had never encountered such savagery. Yes, Georgiana’s invitation to accompany her to Bath had been most very welcome.
She was a woman who refused to settle for anything less than what she considered to be the best. In the first few years of her coming out in society, middling, unremarkable young men had queued up to dance with her. She had refused them all with a wave of her hand. Her sights were set higher. When she deigned to marry it would be a perfect alliance on all counts – fortune, estate and connections - all wrapped up in the perfect man. Regrettably, the only man she had ever considered truly worthy of her was the one whose arm she had coasted in on. If he had a fault, she could not find it. Well, perhaps he was a little uneasy in company, and actually even now, he looked quite embarrassed, but this she attributed to the company most usually being beneath him. If only he had not married Anne de Bourgh! But in this even, she found something to admire, for he had obviously done so out of duty and responsibility.
Scanning the gathered crowd in the Octagon Room, she rated each assembled person; categorising and dismissing, until her eyes fell upon the Viscountess Winslow and her party. Yes, that was where she belonged. She searched for Eliza Bennet and scowled when she could not see her. What luck that little country Miss possessed - to have fallen on her feet and leeched onto a relation with such excellent standing in society - but then Caroline felt the luck of it too, for she fully intended to further her friendship with Eliza, and through her to become a firm favourite with the Viscountess. It would be marvellous to be on such intimate terms with Lady Winslow when they returned to London. She had heard of exclusive parties given at her London home; the guests including royalty, even the Prince Regent himself! But Miss Bennet was most definitely not there. Perhaps she was dancing.
Caroline looked up at Mr Darcy. “Might we go through to the ballroom?”
He released himself from her hold. “I will not dance. Therefore I’d much better remain here.”
The Colonel, who stood behind with Georgiana, laughed. “Yes, Darcy. Do not be going into that room without the intention of standing up with someone. For I have just glanced in and there are scores of young ladies ready to be disappointed and cross with any gentleman who will not oblige them.”
Darcy smiled tightly and found a space for himself against the wall, beside his aunt and uncle, who had already fallen into conversation with some mutual acquaintance. The Colonel offered Miss Bingley an arm, Georgiana already having hold of the other, and he took the ladies off to the ballroom. Darcy looked around and satisfied himself. He might rest easy and go unnoticed for a while. He required time to recover from the mortification of escorting Caroline Bingley into the Upper Rooms. For the lady, on top of her head, wore the most ridiculous, grandiose and downright strange adornment - there were so many beads and feathers and ornate combs; forming a tower that wobbled and shook and seemed as if it might topple to the floor at any moment. He was a man who did not like to be gawped at. Social occasions were difficult enough for him as it was. He was usually fawned and fettered over because of his wealth. He had become somewhat used to it, but the titters and exclamations that Miss Bingley’s entrance excited had caused him the deepest embarrassment and he was glad to be rid of her. Even he knew, a man who took no notice of fashion, that styles had changed and ladies were more simply dressed than ever. Miss Bingley’s own taste seemed firmly rooted in 1806!
A swish of white muslin, sprigged with tiny yellow flowers swept past him about five feet away, drawing his eyes to its wearer. Her dark hair was prettily pinned up with no more than a single decorated ribbon. The only jewellery she wore was a cross hung from a simple gold chain around her neck. As he watched her progress across the room, he acknowledged that her style had always pleased him. He was not at all surprised to see her. The Upper Rooms seemed to be the venue of choice on evenings when there was no other entertainment to be had. Elizabeth Bennet went to her aunt and spoke with animation. He was too far away to hear what she said, but he heard her tinkling laugh in response to whatever Mrs Mountford’s reply had been.
Darcy had compared her sense of fashion favourably against Caroline Bingley’s - and now he found he couldn’t help but compare everything else about her to another - to Anne. How different she was to Anne, in every way. Her small shoulders were straight, her complexion was flawless and healthy, and her hair shone. Her vitality and vivaciousness sang to him. Would she now turn, perhaps, and see him? This time he wo
uld not hide. He would not be driven from the room by her. He stared and waited. He was certainly no longer angry; he had never been able to stay angry at her. Surprise and shock had made him so the other night but now he wanted to be seen. He had made up his mind to offer her a polite nod and see how matters might progress from there. Though, if some kind of conversation were found to be necessary, he had absolutely no idea of what he might say.
His attention was caught by a tug on his sleeve. “Darcy, you are miles away.”
Darcy looked down at the man who was rousing him. It took him a while to think of the name, though he knew they had been fencing partners on a number of occasions. “Oh, Yorke, I did not know you were in Bath.”
“Yes, my family follow on soon. I came first to secure some lodgings. How are you?” he enquired with a furrowed brow.
“Oh, yes. I am as well as can be expected. Are you enjoying Bath?”
“Yes, immensely. I was wondering if you might do me a great service, Darcy. Will you assist me with an introduction?” Yorke nodded towards where the Viscountess’ party stood.
“I’m afraid I do not know the Viscountess.”
“Do you not? I thought I saw your cousin and sister talking to her outside the theatre the other night. To own the truth though, I care not a fig about meeting Lady Winslow. It is the young lady with her I am keen to be introduced to.”
There were actually two or three young ladies gathered around Lady Winslow, but Darcy knew which one Yorke referred to. He cleared his throat. “If you speak of the lady with the dark hair and white gown, it is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“B is for Bennet,” said Yorke with half a laugh. “Yes, I would very much like to meet Miss Bennet.”
Darcy found himself impatient with Yorke’s joviality and with the excitement in his expression. He already seemed smitten. “Well, I cannot help you. I have not seen her for many years and it would seem awkward. But here comes my cousin, he might assist.”
Ardently Page 4
