A Summer in Scarborough

by Blake Smith

  Since this was all perfectly usual, Lady Catherine did not argue the point any further. Her attention had been caught by another name, and Anne was able to subside back into her seat and be comfortable.

  Finally, the invitations were finished and dispatched into the hands of the servants who would deliver them. Anne was wearied, not by writing, but by the company of so many people for so many hours, and she was grateful when Lady Catherine refused the Hursts’ invitation to dine with them. Of course, being Lady Catherine, she tendered her refusal in rather more blunt terms that Anne would have liked, but she could not disagree with the sentiment, and tried to look her apologies at Georgiana, who, thankfully, seemed to understand.

  As Anne was putting on her shawl, she was surprised to find Miss Bingley at her elbow. “I know you think me utterly without feeling,” Miss Bingley said quietly, “but I saw your face when Lady Catherine mentioned Sir Henry, and I cannot think it right that any young lady should be obliged to receive the attentions of a man she dislikes.”

  “I thank you for it,” Anne said. “I am not fond of Sir Henry, though my mother likes him very much. The forcefulness of their characters is very alike.”

  Miss Bingley could make no response to this, as Lady Catherine now came up. “Come along, Anne, we should not take up any more of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley’s time.”

  Anne would not ignore such a hint, and was obliged to be content with having shared her feelings with a sympathetic ear. She could not hope that Sir Henry would be excluded from the ball, but perhaps she would find adequate refuge from him among Georgiana and Miss Bingley.

  There was nothing more she could do.

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  Time passed quickly, and it was a mere three days before the ball that Georgiana came to call, in possession of some rather diverting news.

  Or perhaps Anne was diverted merely by her way of announcing it. She was sitting alone in the drawing room, a not terribly interesting book upon her lap, when the familiar patter of her cousin’s footsteps was to be heard outside. An instant later, Georgiana bounded into view, smiling brightly enough to light up the room. “Oh, Anne, what do you think has happened?”

  “I could not begin to guess,” Anne said, smiling at her cousin’s so very apparent happiness.

  Georgiana threw herself onto the sofa next to Anne. “My brother and Mrs. Darcy will be here tomorrow! They are to stay at the White Rose, and attend the ball at Number Eight.”

  “How lovely!” Anne said, with real feeling. “I shall be glad to see Mr. and Mrs. Darcy again. But I hope they do not come to Scarborough because someone is ill,” she added. She had thought both the Darcys in robust health, but perhaps Mrs. Darcy was still recovering from the birth of her child?

  “Oh, no, nothing like that,” Georgiana assured her. “They are come solely for pleasure and to see the sea. However,” and her smiled dimmed, “there is one thing objectionable about their arrival. They are to stay only a week, and when they return to Pemberley, I shall go with them.”

  Anne was downcast by this news, but rallied her spirits and said, “I shall be sorry to lose you, but I suppose summer is nearly at an end.”

  “Yes- it has gone by so fast!” Georgiana exclaimed. “I feel it is only yesterday that we arrived.”

  Anne assented to this and remarked, “I believe my mother intend that we stay only another few weeks, then I shall be again entombed at Rosings.”

  “Entombed?” Georgiana repeated, aghast. “Certainly not! I shall ask my brother if we are to go to London for the winter, and if we are, I shall invite you to stay with us.”

  “That would answer very well, if I could only be assured that my mother would let me go.” Nothing in the world would have induced Anne to mention Mr. Jeffries, and how Lady Catherine was unlikely to let Anne go anywhere she might meet him.

  But Georgiana was quick and clever, and she said slyly, “Perhaps Lady Catherine will have no say over your movements by that time. Mrs. Hurst had a letter from Mr. Jeffries yesterday; he says he will make every effort to be in Scarborough for the ball.”

  “Hush!” Anne said, unable to keep from glancing at the drawing room door.

  “I thought you liked him,” Georgiana said; at least she had the sense to whisper.

  “I did and I do,” Anne whispered back. “But I have not known him very long, and I do not think he is the sort of man who falls in love with a woman at the drop of a hat. Nor would he make offers if he was not absolutely sure he would be accepted.”

  “And it is difficult to tell a man that one likes him,” Georgiana said, nodding. “At least, it is difficult if one wishes to keep within the bounds of propriety.”

  Anne raised an eyebrow at this, wondering if Georgiana had a secret. But she would not pry into her cousin’s deepest feelings, and merely assented that, yes, the circumspection required by etiquette could be quite tiresome at times. “Though it can be useful if one is not sure of one’s feelings. A very natural hesitation can be interpreted as conforming to the rules of politeness.”

  Georgiana merely nodded at this and turned the topic. Anne allowed herself to be drawn into safer subjects, such as what she planned to wear, the increasing chaos at Number Eight, and the likelihood of good weather.

  ***

  Anne was out of the house all of the next day. She did so by design, fearing to receive callers. She had learned that it was the custom for gentlemen to call on the few days before a ball was to take place, to solicit the hand of any fair guest who might be persuaded to dance.

  So she spent as many hours as possibly in calling on her friends, though Mrs. Jenkinson managed to convince her that she should not call at Number Eight; her presence, though usually welcome, was sure to turn an already active house upside down.

  She returned to Number Twelve a bare hour before they were to dine, thinking that all callers would have gone by then. But no sooner had she glanced into the drawing room than she saw she had been mistaken. A man’s deep voice could be heard from the doorway, and though Anne drew back, she was not quick enough.

  “Ah, Anne, there you are!” Lady Catherine said from within. “Come here; I have not seen you at all today.”

  Anne went forward reluctantly. She knew the man’s voice, though he had been facing away from her, and it was the one person in the world she wished to avoid.

  Sir Henry turned to face her, smiling. “How do you do, Miss de Bourgh?” His eyes were hard and flinty. “I was hoping I would find you at home.”

  “I have been out for much of the day,” Anne replied. “You see me as I have just this moment returned.” Under Lady Catherine’s stern gaze, she offered her hand to Sir Henry as briefly as she could do with civility, then took a seat that would not allow him to sit next to her.

  He was not dissuaded, and sat upon the sofa a few feet from her. “I am pleased that you are equal to so much exercise. Dare I hope that this newfound strength will allow you to attend Mr. and Mrs. Hurst’s ball two days hence?”

  “Indeed, I shall be present. I did not know that you were attending; I assisted Mrs. Hurst with the invitations and I did not see your name on her list of guests.”

  He could not be insensible of her meaning, that she thought him not good enough to attend the ball at Number Eight. But though his brows drew together and his gaze grew momentarily black, he merely said, “You are correct. I believe I have your honored mother to thank for my invitation.” He glanced at Lady Catherine. “I believe it was she who drew Mrs. Hurst’s attention to the oversight, for which I am grateful.”

  Lady Catherine positively preened under this praise. Anne gritted her teeth and managed to say, without too much sarcasm, “My mother would never forget what is due to her acquaintances.”

  “And I am thankful for it,” he repeated. “For it allows me to solicit your hand for a dance. Are you engaged for the waltz?”

  Aha! He had made a blunder! Anne carefully schooled her features to neutrality. “Sir, I thank you for your invi
tation but I do not waltz.”

  He looked surprised but his eyes were suspicious. “You disapprove of the waltz?”

  “I am not such a rustic that I would disapprove of a dance that is every night performed at Almack’s,” she said sharply. “But I am not familiar with the steps, and I do not think my strength equal to a dance with which I have little experience.”

  “I see. But I am not so easily defeated, and I am determined to have your hand,” he said, and his gaze gave weight to the words. Then, in a lighter tone, he asked, “Perhaps in the two first? I understand they are to be country-dances, and I know well that you are quite adept at the steps.”

  She was trapped. If she refused him, she must sit down for the entire ball. She sighed, resigned to an unpleasant evening.

  Perhaps it was best to get it over with, to dance with Sir Henry then beg and cajole her other male acquaintances into protecting her for the rest of the evening. Nothing in Sir Henry’s manners suggested that he would be so crass as to steal her out from under the aegis of another partner. So she said, without a trace of a smile, “You are very kind. I will dance the two first with you.” Not a hint of ‘I am pleased to accept’, or anything of the like. She wished to make her dislike as clear as she could without being utterly uncivil.

  Far from being abashed by her coldness, Sir Henry smiled. Could he possibly be pleased by her resistance? She had heard of such men, men who preferred to force their company on reluctant ladies, and the thought of Sir Henry as such a man- encouraged by her own mother, no less!- made her shiver.

  But Lady Catherine was looking on with complacency; Anne would find no assistance from that quarter. She could see the path ahead, and try as she might, she could see no way out. Sir Henry would dance with her, and would force her to spend the rest of the evening scrambling to avoid him. And the next day, he would come to Number Twelve and… Anne refused to think of it. Sir Henry was bidding them a good evening, and civility was required.

  She expected to be scolded as soon as Sir Henry was out of earshot, but Lady Catherine had seen nothing amiss in her conduct. Anne was divided between relief that she would not have to endure Lady Catherine’s recriminations, and worry that Sir Henry had also not seen her dislike of him. She could not see how to make her feelings clearer.

  Though it may be useless even so, she noted to herself. Incivility has had no effect on him thus far. And wasn’t that a melancholy thought?

  ***

  As she had been unsuccessful in avoiding Sir Henry, and therefore had no reason to hide from further callers, Anne did not go out on the day before the ball, and thus was sitting with her mother and Mrs. Jenkinson, retrimming one of her bonnets, when the butler came in and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Darcy!” in stentorian accents more suited to announcing guests at a ball.

  But Anne was so surprised by their visitors’ sudden arrival that she was obliged to set aside her work for a moment, lest she stab herself with her needle. She had not seen her cousin or his wife for two years, when she, then Miss Elizabeth Bennet, had been a guest of the Collinses, and he had stayed at Rosings.

  They were little changed from her memories. Mrs. Darcy was a little fuller of figure than before, but of course she was only recently released from her confinement. And both looked ill-at-ease, yet determined to observe the proprieties. Were the nephew to stay a week in such a small town without calling upon the aunt, tongues would wag.

  A cloud of resentment stole over Lady Catherine’s features as she beheld her relations. But Anne had nothing against either, and rose to greet them pleasantly. Rarely had she seen such a look of silent gratitude as appeared upon Mrs. Darcy’s face when Anne invited her to be seated, asking her about the journey from Pemberley, and was the place as fine as she had heard it described, and how lovely it was that the littlest Darcy would grow up in the country.

  It was all nonsense, but Mrs. Darcy seemed pleased to be spoken to, and Mr. Darcy unbent a little. Anne was occupied with her own conversation, but she watched her cousin out of the corner of her eye as he sat beside Lady Catherine, and the whole party was seated closely enough that she overheard their conversation.

  “I am pleased to find you looking well, madam,” was his opening sally.

  “Thank you,” was Lady Catherine’s clipped response.

  “My sister tells me that you have been a great advisor to her in her time here; I thank you for your care of her.”

  “Indeed, I could hardly stand by and leave her to the unmitigated influence of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley.”

  “She does not seem to have come to any harm by staying with them.”

  Anne pressed her lips together, that she might not burst out laughing. Poor Mr. Darcy! Poor Lady Catherine! They had previously been on such good terms, and now, consequence of Lady Catherine’s resentment, they could hardly speak to one another.

  This staid back-and-forth conversation, and the slightly livelier exchanges of Anne and Mrs. Darcy, continued for a few minutes, until there was thankfully was an interruption in the form of Mrs. Jenkinson, who came into the room, stopped and stared for a moment at the sight of their visitors, then pasted a smile upon her face and came forward to greet Mrs. Darcy, who offered her hand with a smile.

  Mr. Darcy took that moment to detach himself from Lady Catherine and sit beside Anne.

  She truly liked her cousin, and it was no difficulty to smile and say, “I was pleased to hear from Georgiana that you would be coming to Scarborough.”

  “Indeed, it is for her sake that we are here, though Mrs. Darcy also professed a great curiosity to see the sea.”

  “I hope she finds it to her liking. I have. There are a great number of walking paths nearby, and the weather has been fine.”

  “It seems to have done you good. You are looking well; I had heard you were ill.”

  “I was, but I am quite recovered now,” she replied. “I am looking forward to the Hursts’ ball next week.”

  “I’m glad you are feeling well enough to attend,” he said. “Do you intend to dance?”

  Anne thought this stiff formality was a consequence of not feeling fully certain of himself, and took pity on him. “I do intend to dance; I am feeling much stronger than usual of late.”

  He gave a slight smile. “In that case, will you do me the honor of dancing the two second with me? Mrs. Darcy has claimed me for the two first,” he added, with a soft glance at his wife who was making determined conversation with Lady Catherine and Mrs. Jenkinson.

  Anne gratefully accepted his offer, sighing happily upon observing the look that passed between husband and wife. Mr. Darcy truly loved her, even Anne could see that, and she was happy her occasionally dour cousin had found a lady whose wit and vivacity could draw him out of the doldrums.

  If she could only find someone who would look upon her as Mr. Darcy did for his wife, she would have nothing to wish for. She would not even care that Lady Catherine looked as if she had swallowed poison, as she would not be obliged to see her mother if she was settled elsewhere.

  Berkshire is not at the ends of the earth, but nor is it particularly near to Rosings, a traitorous little voice whispered in her mind. She quickly pushed the thought aside. There had been no sign of Mr. Jeffries’ return.

  At least Mr. Darcy could be depended upon to protect her from Sir Henry. And she might be able to wring some assistance from Mr. Caverleigh, who since their first meeting at the Assembly had been kind to her in a brotherly way.

  As she’d hoped, Mr. Caverleigh called shortly after the Darcys’ departure, and very politely solicited Anne’s hand for the two third. Her dance card, such as it was, was becoming rather more crowded than she’d expected.

  All in a good cause, of course. If she was engaged to dance with other men, she could not be asked by Sir Henry. Nor could she be asked by Mr. Jeffries, but Anne was determined not to repine over that circumstance.

  CHAPTER Seventeen

  Almost before she knew it, she was preparing for the ball.
It was of course not the first time she had attended an evening party of this sort, but the gathering at Number Eight was special. It was to be one of the larger balls held that summer, many of her friends and family were in attendance, and given that Lady Catherine had begun to talk of returning to Rosings, it was likely to be the last time Anne attended such a gathering. So it was hardly surprising that she dressed with greater care than usual, in a robe of pale pink gauze over a white gown, and could not sit still for Harris to arrange her hair.

  “How does it look from the back?” she asked, drumming her fingers on her dressing table.

  “It looks very well, miss,” Harris said placidly. “Hold these pins for me.”

  Anne took the pearled pins obediently, attempting to see herself in the mirror from all angles without disturbing Harris’s work. “Ouch!”

  “Sorry, miss,” Harris said. For she had accidentally driven a pin into Anne’s scalp. “But you must be still.”

  “I’m sorry, Harris. I know you didn’t do it a-purpose. I can’t wait to see Number Eight.”

  “Likely there’ll be so many people, you won’t be able to see much of anything,” was Harris’s ever-practical opinion.

  But for the moment, Anne was determined to be happy. She fully expected disaster of some sort, no doubt spearheaded by Sir Henry, but to allow him to spoil the entire evening, without even having done anything to annoy her, would be intolerable, not to mention hopelessly missish. Anne was certain she had gained enough strength in mind and body to keep from falling into hysterics before they were warranted.

  Number Eight glowed like a small sun. Anne could not recall ever seeing so many candles in one place. Light streamed through the windows as they approached the house, and did not dim as they were announced and stepped into the hall. Anne paused on the threshold, taking in the scene before her.