A Mutual Accord

Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

T he morning after Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley left for Chichester, Uncle Gardiner arrived from London in search of them.

“I am glad they are already on their way, Lizzy,” her uncle confided in Lady Catherine’s drawing room in the company of the occupants of the house and all of their callers. “I shall be glad of some refreshment, and I will follow them directly.”

“I am grateful to have an introduction, Mr Gardiner,” said Mr Woodhouse as he drew near to them with Miss Woodhouse on his arm. “The younger men have told me of several interesting investments that they have entered into with you. Might I request that you send some information to my friend, Mr Knightley? I may myself be interested.”

“I certainly shall, Mr Woodhouse. I know Mr George Knightley well, if that is the man you mean,” answered Edward Gardiner politely. “He speaks of his home in Highbury frequently. Do you visit London very often?”

“We go but rarely, sir,” answered Miss Woodhouse for her father. “My father dislikes the discomforts of the city. I hear from your nieces that you live in Cheapside? I must admit, I have never had occasion to visit the neighbourhood. How curious it must be to live in such a bustling area. Cheapside must be very different from the quiet refinement of the country, but I imagine it has its own… unique charms.”

Elizabeth steamed in indignation for her uncle, and even saw a look of irritation cross Jane’s usually placid visage. Before she could open her mouth to give Miss Woodhouse a set down, the young lady spoke again.

“You must be so proud of Miss Elizabeth’s marriage prospects, Mr Gardiner. For your niece to put you into the sphere of someone of Mr Darcy’s standing is quite an achievement, especially for a family with such a varied… background. You must consider it a relief that the gentleman seems so determinedly blind to certain… lesser connections.”

“It is obvious that I have neglected your social education appallingly if you do not know that a man like Mr Gardiner is in regular company with a great many landed gentlemen and even noblemen, Emma,” said her father in disapproval of her rudeness.

Mr Gardiner elegantly ignored Miss Woodhouse as he promised to send some information to Mr Knightley. Mr Woodhouse took his leave of them and Lady Catherine, and the pair departed.

A short while later, Elizabeth and her sisters were taking their leave of their uncle in front of Bourne House, when he said to her, “Of course, I will say nothing to anyone in town, it is not my business, but there are a number of men there who would be very interested in knowing the location of Sir Albert and Lord Lennox just now.”

“What of them, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked curiously.

“It is said that Swinton has finally gambled it all away. He will have to sell his country estate or face Newgate. Indeed Sir Albert is so heavily in debt that he fled the city some weeks ago, the bailiffs have been searching for him, and Lord Lennox disappeared from the capital under similar circumstances around the same time,” her uncle answered. “Lennox is not to lose his estate, but he is heavily encumbered, nonetheless. He will have to sell something eventually to pay his debts, or marry a dowry. I would not mention it in company if I were you, it would be incredibly indelicate, but Mr Darcy’s cousins and aunt should be aware of it if they are courting the young ladies.”

“The ladies ignore them mostly. No one takes them seriously,” replied Elizabeth. “I will pass the information along to Lady Catherine, all the same.”

“The sooner the men can return to keep an eye on those young bucks, the better,” grumbled her uncle as he boarded his carriage, and departed for Chichester.

Later that morning, the comte was making his way through the house. None ever knew how the man entered and exited for his appointments with Lady Catherine, he came and went as mysteriously as a fog. There was a terrible noise from the music room, a pedantic pounding upon the keys of the pianoforte, as a measure was played poorly, the same one, over and over, until eventually a cry of despair was heard, followed by a great crash upon the keys. The comte looked into the music room, to find Mary Bennet weeping as if her heart would break with her head down upon the keys of the instrument.

“Whatever can be the matter, mademoiselle , it cannot be as terrible as all that!” the comte drawled languidly as he entered the room.

“Oh! Monsieur le Comte , I beg your pardon, I thought I was alone,” apologised Mary Bennet as she wiped her eyes. “You must pay no attention to me, I am hopeless.”

“Why do you pound the keys like you are angry? Your music, it does not flow. The music is meant to rise and fall like the waves of the sea. The notes must rise to the highest pinnacle, then wash down gently upon the listener. Your way is not how Mozart intended it to be played,” said the comte .

“How do you know how Mozart intended it to be played?” asked Mary miserably, her head still resting upon her folded arms.

“I knew Mozart well,” the comte told her.

“Of course you did. You know everyone well,” retorted Mary, with no small amount of sarcasm. “The man who knows everyone, and never dies.”

“Voltaire said something similar to that about me once,” reminisced the comte with a wistful smile. “I recall when Mozart was only a child prodigy. Even when he lost hope, in his darkest hours, he never gave up. You should emulate him.”

“Does it look like I have given up?” bit out Mary. “I have never given up, even when every person I love, everyone with the exception of dear William, of course, has told me that I am hopeless, and that I ought to stop trying.”

“They are all idiots then. With the exception of your dear William, of course.” insisted the comte . “I like your young man. There is no malice in him. He wishes only to improve himself, and do his best by you and your home and family.”

“He is the best of men,” Mary said, wiping her eyes. “And I only wish the same, to improve myself, to be a good mistress to my home when it comes time, and to improve life for everyone at Longbourn. But I cannot lie, I wish that I could have this one vanity for myself. The knowledge that I am truly proficient at something. My father says I should give up and become proficient at something I am actually good at, but I love the pianoforte! There is nothing that I wish more than to be a truly wonderful player, to give dear William a reason to be proud of me. Is that wicked? For me to wish to distinguish myself in that way? Am I a vain woman?”

“ Mademoiselle , you are the farthest thing from a vain woman that I have ever met,” the comte assured her. “Surely with diligence you will find the proficiency you seek.”

“It is hopeless!” Mary wailed. “Georgiana is the best player I have ever known, and Miss Bingley is nearly as proficient, and they have spent months helping me, to no avail. I will never be proficient!”

“Allow me to play it for you, you sit here next to me and close your eyes,” said the comte . “Hear the music as Mozart did. No other distractions. Just the music.”

Mary moved aside on the bench to make room for the comte , as he joined her, and obediently closed her eyes. As the music began, she was filled with a fresh wave of despair, as she always was when the comte demonstrated. This man played as if he had invented the pianoforte himself. How could she ever play like this? By the end of the piece, Mary Bennet was weeping with emotion, as she often did when the comte played for their party.

“I shall never play like that,” Mary said despondently. “I doubt it sounded that well even when Mozart himself played it.”

“Of course you shall,” insisted the comte . “And I assure you that when Mozart played, it brought tears even to my eyes, and I forgot how to weep many centuries ago. Now, show me how you read the music. Tell me what you see on the sheet, and explain to me in what manner you determine how it should be played.”

Outside the door, William Bennet arrived as if to enter the music room, but upon finding Mary there, weeping and accepting comfort from the comte , he knew not how to interrupt, so instead, he left, and went instead to the library; he said nothing to anyone, but he was troubled.

Richard had his hands full. Immediately upon the determination that the ladies of the house knew of whatever plot was being hatched, Colonel Allen had apparently disregarded Huggins’ dismissive attitude, and had set officers in plain attire to follow every lady of the house. It was impossible for Richard to keep tabs on all of them at once, and he was beginning to tire, considering that he was following men about at all hours of the day and night. The ladies seemed to be in no danger. Allen was only watching the ladies because he was certain that they knew something that they did not. He sent word to his aunt and Georgiana through Torrens that all of the ladies were now being watched, which did not matter much, because they knew nothing, and met with no one that should raise suspicion, but at least armed with the information, Lady Catherine could be more careful about ensuring that the ladies only left the house together in groups of twos and threes, and only with two or three footmen or grooms attending them. It was important for them not to change their routines overly much. Richard avoided seeking out his young cousin, in case he were to be observed meeting with her. A new rule was also made that servants must leave the house to do errands in pairs. Marigold Tupper remained isolated in her room, but Georgiana kept the girl busy with sewing for the local poorbox, and with novels.