A Request from Lady Descartes
Elizabeth was surprised when the butler brought in a calling card from Lady Descartes the next day.
“Are you in, ma’am?” he asked.
“Yes, certainly.”
Elizabeth rose as Lady Descartes entered. The two had met before the dinner party the night before and Lady Descartes had insisted on being called by her given name. Nonetheless, Elizabeth was reluctant to presume.
Lady Descartes had no such inhibitions. “My dear Elizabeth, I must thank you for your comments last night. That horrid old crone; I wanted to throw my wine in her face.”
“That would have done a great disservice to the table linens,” Elizabeth said, her lips grave but her eyes glinting with amusement.
“I should be used to such remarks. Heaven knows that I still get them, years after Thomas and I were married.”
“Will you take tea?”
“I should be delighted to. I’m so glad to have met you, Elizabeth. You are indeed one of those fresh voices of which you spoke last night and I wish I could enjoy your company at more occasions. Unfortunately, I must return home. Thomas is not well, you know, and I don’t like to leave him. My daughter, Thomasina has been presented at court and I have several engagements this week; after that, I shall return.”
The maid brought in the tea tray. Elizabeth poured a cup for Lady Descartes and herself.
“Will your daughter return with you?’
Lady Descartes looked at Elizabeth with a guilty expression. “I wish for her to have her London Season this year. Is not Georgiana Darcy coming out soon?”
“Not this year. Her brother believes it would be better to wait another year. She is still young.” And shy, but that was not something Elizabeth was prepared to share. Georgiana was a dear girl, but since the scandal with George Wickham, from which her brother’s intervention had rescued her, she had preferred to stay at Pemberley House and only came to London with reluctance.
“A pity. Elizabeth, I have a great favor to ask.” Lady Descartes put down her tea cup and gave Elizabeth a forlorn look. “I must return to Thomas. I do not know, in truth, how long I will have him. I know that my duty as a mother is to see my daughter through her debut Season, but I am torn. I fear that, even if Thomas were well, which he is not, my presence would only cause discord. You know that even though so many years have passed, I am still the actress who married the Earl.”
“Not to most people,” Elizabeth disagreed, “and I don’t know if Mrs. Norris is likely to attend balls, in any case.”
“There are many Mrs. Norrises about,” Lady Descartes answered darkly. “I must ask your help.’
“Lady Descartes, I am delighted to assist you in any possible way, but I do not see what I can do.”
“Caroline, please. If I am going to ask you a favor, you will do me the honor of calling me by my name when you refuse me?”
Elizabeth laughed. “You are so sure that I will refuse?”
Lady Descartes – Caroline – sighed. “I would like you to be Thomasina’s chaperone for the Season. I know that it’s an imposition, but if she could stay here with you, only for the summer or so, so that she can attend balls, go riding – she rides very well, in truth – and entertain suitors, I would be most grateful.”
“How old is Thomasina?”
“She is sixteen.”
“You wish her to marry?”
“Dear God, no,” Caroline replied energetically. “She’s much too young. But I wish for her to take part in the Season as if she were looking to marry. Tommy is a delightful girl and I could not wish for a more loving daughter. But she is . . . independent.”
Elizabeth guessed that “independent” was not quite the word Caroline intended to use.
“Lady— Caroline,” she amended when Caroline held up her hand expectantly. “I am new to London. I am not of the ton. I would not be the best chaperone for your daughter.”
“Nonsense,” Caroline returned. “You are respectably married to a gentleman who is known to have disdained the overbearing mamas who tried to push their daughters at him in the hopes of catching him. If you could attract Fitzwilliam Darcy as a husband, you obviously possess a depth of character that other women lacked. You are certainly beautiful enough to have caught his eye, and I could see, from his manner toward you last night, that he is in love with you. I want that for Tommy. It is not considered a priority for marriage, I know, but I have been fortunate to be married to a man I love, and how can I accept less for my daughter?”
“No, of course not,” Elizabeth stammered, wondering just when Caroline Descartes had seen the look that she had described on her husband’s face. In the carriage on the way back, he had declared that he would not again attend a dinner party unless he knew in advance that the guest list consisted only of the Darcys and the Bingleys and that, furthermore, he hoped that Mrs. Norris would abstain from accepting invitations for the duration of the Season.
“Then you agree?” Caroline leaned forward, a fragrant collage of elegant silk, diamonds and beauty.
“I – truly, Caroline, I do not know what to say.”
“Simply say ‘yes’ and I will begin to make the preparations today for Tommy to come here to stay with you. I’ve already ordered her wardrobe; I’ll have everything sent here.”
“You ordered her clothing without her being present? Do you know her preferences so well?”
“She has no preferences,” Caroline replied, finishing her tea. “She detests ball gowns. I shall explain everything when you and your husband come to supper on Thursday. I shall send the invitation; it will be a very casual evening, just you and Mr. Darcy and a few friends from my theatre days. Thank you so much, Elizabeth, I was quite at my wit’s end over what to do, but you have relieved me enormously.”
As she bade the chattering Lady Descartes farewell, Elizabeth could not help but wish that some of that relief could have been shared. The prospect of another dinner party so soon, and one with friends of Caroline’s from her theatre days, was not one that would likely garner her husband’s enthusiasm.
He was in the library, responding to correspondence. He rose from his desk when she entered.
“Good afternoon,” he greeted her, although they had already shared breakfast that morning. “You look as if you have news.”
“I have,” she answered, sitting down across from him. “I’m not sure how you will receive it.”
His eyebrows raised. “With an ominous opening such as that, I’m not at all sure I wish to hear the rest.”
She relayed Lady Descartes’ request. Fitzwilliam did not interrupt her but his eyes were, as always, eloquent.
“We are to play host to a sixteen-year-old girl who will be making her debut?” he repeated.
“Caroline has presented her at Court but must return to her husband. She wants her daughter to have a Season.”
“What are we to do if the girl falls in love with someone inappropriate?
“We’d send for Caroline, of course, and let her handle it.”
“Much good that would do if they run off to Gretna Green,” he muttered.
“I’m sure it will be all right,” she said soothingly. “We’d be going to many of the events in any case. We’ll simply have Tommy with us.”
“Who the devil is Tommy?”
“Her daughter, Thomasina. She calls her Tommy.”
Fitzwilliam studied the quill pen in front of him. “I suppose you’ve already consented,” he said.
“I felt that I could not refuse.”
“I could have done so for you.”
“Really, it won’t be so bad. I’m sure she’s a charming girl.”
“I am sure of no such thing.”
Elizabeth stood up and gave her husband a dazzling smile. “We’ll find out on Thursday,” she told him. “Caroline has invited us to supper.”
“Can we not dine at home on Thursday?”
“We must meet Tommy before Caroline leaves her wit
h us. It will be quite casual, Caroline promises.” Elizabeth began to walk toward the door. “Just you and me, Caroline and Tommy. Oh—” she paused, her hand on the doorknob “—and a few of Caroline’s friends from the theatre.”
Lady Thomasina Descartes
“I am sure that Caroline’s friends will be quite amiable,” Elizabeth said as the carriage headed to Lady Descartes’ house with her and her less-than-amiable husband on board. “We must meet Thomasina and assure her that she will be welcome in our home. She will be welcome, will she not?”
“I would not be rude to a guest,” he answered.
It was not the answer she sought, but she knew better than to probe at what, to her reserved husband, was an open wound. He had admitted to her after they married that he was not at all sociable and did not particularly enjoy entertaining or being entertained, unless it was in the company of people for whom he felt great fondness. But he had married a woman who was quite at ease in the company of others; Georgiana, his young sister, had bashfully confided that she would be more inclined to engage more actively in society now that she had a dear sister who was so confident. It was still Elizabeth’s intention to bring Georgiana to London, a plan even more suitable now that there would be another young girl in the house, but that was something to pursue at a later time.
Fitzwilliam was quiet for the journey but Elizabeth had learned to decipher her husband’s moods and knew that allowing him the privacy of his silence would put him in a better humor for the evening, which, despite her protestation, she was not at all sure would be enjoyable.
They were shown into the drawing room, the first guests to arrive.
Caroline, looking as elegant as always in an elaborately adorned dress of light green festooned with pearls at the sleeves, rose to greet them. “The others will come later,” she explained. “I wanted Tommy to meet you without distractions. Gerford, please tell Lady Thomasina that our guests have arrived. And Gerford” – she smiled winningly at the butler – “please remind her that she must comb her hair.”
“Yes, my lady,” the butler said without expression.
Fitzwilliam, of course, said nothing, but Elizabeth could sense his unspoken reaction to the information that a young lady who was making her debut should have to be reminded to comb her hair.
“Sit down,” Caroline commanded with a smile. “I’m so glad to see you both and, Mr. Darcy, I must thank you with all my heart for offering the hospitality of your home to my daughter.”
The pause was infinitesimal; Caroline would not have noticed it, but Elizabeth did.
“Think nothing of it, ma’am,” Fitzwilliam said. “Mrs. Darcy will quite enjoy playing chaperone for your daughter. We live very simply, however; I hope that your daughter will not be bored.”
That was what she had expected. Her husband was asserting his intention to do nothing beyond what was obligatory in this arrangement.
Caroline waved a long-fingered hand decorated with an impressive wedding ring that was, no doubt, part of the famed Descartes diamonds. “What will bore Tommy, unfortunately, is the very purpose for which she is in London. She is not setting herself up to be the toast of the Season, Mr. Darcy. She would rather spend her days riding and visiting the tenants and, to her mind, the worst of the outdoors is better than the best of ballrooms. She is a dear girl, kind-hearted and even-tempered, but I cannot conceal the fact that she is . . .”
“Unlike you,” Fitzwilliam finished.
He meant no insult by it and, fortunately, Caroline realized that and seemed refreshed by his candor. “Very unlike me. She is much more like Thomas who, after we were wed, was quite content to visit London only when it was necessary. Now, of course, he is in no physical condition to come to London and I must go back to him. That is why I was so relieved when dear Elizabeth agreed—”
The drawing-room doors opened and one who could only be Thomasina burst in. “I forgot, Mama. I completely forgot, and I only just remembered before Gerford came to remind me. Hallo! I’m so sorry for being late. I’m Thomasina.”
Thomasina had bright, dark eyes that greeted her guests, and presumably everyone else, with openness. Clearly, there was no guile in her. Her thick, curly black hair was pulled back and tied behind her head; it was not an unattractive style, but it owed nothing to fashion. She was dressed very simply in a rather plain blue dress that had not been designed to promote her attributes, with the result that she appeared to be no more than a young girl in a blue frock.
“That’s quite all right,” Elizabeth said. “We were only chatting about you coming to stay with us.”
“Are you sure it’s acceptable?” Thomasina asked, sounding anxious. “Mama gets an idea in her head and then gallops forward with it and never stops to think that, perhaps, it is not convenient. You know that’s the truth, Mama.” She grinned. “Papa says that you are as impulsive as a child.”
“Are you more like your father?” Elizabeth asked.
“Entirely; Mama is the beauty,” Thomasina said cheerfully. “I am what Aunt Leicester calls the hoyden. It sounds quite rakish.”
“Perhaps not so much as you think,” Elizabeth suggested gently.
Thomasina smiled at her. “I shall behave, Mrs. Darcy, I promise. But you must vow that we will not have to spend every night at a ball or a play or a supper. I prefer to spend my evenings quietly at home.”
Elizabeth avoided her husband’s gaze because she did not want him to see the amusement that she felt. “I think we shall manage to devise a schedule which observes the expectations of the Season without forcing you to be at forever full tilt,” she said soberly. “I think that you would get on very well with my sister-in-law, Georgiana. Do you not agree, Fitzwilliam?”
“I think you may be correct,” Fitzwilliam responded after a momentary pause that told Elizabeth he was well aware of her ploy and did not object to it.
“My sister-in-law, Georgiana, is seventeen. She is still at Pemberley, but I have hopes that she will come to London for some of the Season.”
“Is she out yet?” Caroline asked.
“Not yet. Georgiana is of a private and retiring nature and does not look forward to a Season with any enthusiasm.”
“I like her already!” declared Georgiana. “We shall be great friends, as we both seek ways to avoid invitations.”
“Tommy, if you dare to hide any of the Darcy’s invitations, I warn you, I shall ban you from the stables when you return home,” her mother threatened, sounding as if she were entirely serious.
Thomasina was unperturbed. “I would only do that in my own home,” she assured Elizabeth. “I shall be quite well-behaved in your home.”
“I am not sure but what Mr. Darcy would reward you if you managed to dispose of some of the invitations,” Elizabeth replied. “However, it is the Season and we must endeavor to accommodate.”
Thomasina made a face. “I shall do my best,” she said. “Poor Mrs. Darcy; did you ever expect to encounter such a dismal prospect as I?”
“You are no such thing,” Elizabeth returned swiftly. “We shall very much enjoy having you with us. When do you think you will be returning to the country, Caroline?”
The talk turned to Lady Descartes’ plans to return to the Descartes estate and the need to prepare Thomasina for the Season before her departure. Caroline’s guests began to arrive soon after and Elizabeth found them to be charming and witty. Caroline’s introductions were relaxed but not particularly informative. One lady distinguished herself as Lady Macbeth; and a gentlemen accepted the accolades of the guests for his work in the latest comedy playing on Drury Lane; the others were friendly but anonymous to Elizabeth, who dearly loved going to the theatre now that they were in London but had not been used to doing so when in the country.
She was relieved that Fitzwilliam managed to become engrossed in a discussion with one of the guests, a middle-aged gentleman of sober dress and measured bearing who, although he was with the theatre crowd, seemed to have no particular th
eatrical traits that she could discern. He was a playwright of some note, but seemed to leave the drama to his characters.
Later, in their carriage, she asked Fitzwilliam what he had thought of the evening.
“It was not so dreadful as I anticipated,” he told her.
“Did you enjoy yourself?”
“I do not believe that Lady Thomasina will be the trial I feared. I think that Georgiana will find her amusing.”
“A capital idea, Fitzwilliam. I’m very glad that you thought of it.”
Something much like a snort of amusement escaped from her husband. “Yes, aren’t you?”
Clearly a Belle
Fitzwilliam did not like Almack’s and thought it the height of absurdity that anyone should willingly submit to the inspection imposed by the patronesses. For her part, Elizabeth was merely relieved that both Thomasina and Georgiana had met with Lady Cowper’s approval and been granted vouchers to attend and enjoy the opportunities of the evening.
“Consisting of weak punch and bland suppers,” Fitzwilliam said. “A lamentable price to pay for a waltz.”
“They both look lovely, though, don’t they?”
Fitzwilliam’s eyes softened as he studied his sister who, in the company of the ebullient Thomasina, seemed to be actually enjoying herself, and when she was claimed for a dance, did not cast her eyes down as if she wished she were elsewhere. Elizabeth had been correct, he realized: it was good for her to be out. Arranging her debut at such short notice had taken a bit of coordinating, but the two girls, who had become fast friends, could at least share their thoughts.
He could not help noticing that Thomasina, although she wore a fashionable dress and Descartes jewels and had had her hair dressed by Elizabeth’s maid, still appeared as if she would rather be in a simple frock and at home. Georgiana, whose wardrobe had also undergone a rapid ascent into the latest London fashions, was attired with equal style and her brother noted with wary approval that she was attracting the attention of the young gentlemen in the room.
The Pemberley Affair Page 2
