Chapter 26
26
FLUMMERY
“ B rother?” Georgiana stood in the doorway of his study in the Brook Street town house.
He shot to his feet. “How are you, m’ duck?” Darcy used the Midlands term of endearment only when the two of them were alone. The visit was unexpected, but he was always delighted to see her.
Georgiana resided with a companion, Mrs Annesley, who presided over the establishment Darcy had formed for his beloved sister on nearby North Audley Street. Music and dance masters went thither to further the young lady’s education and assist her along the path to becoming a truly accomplished woman.
Rounding his desk, Darcy pulled her in for a hug. “Are you well? Is Mrs Annesley with you? Have you come to rescue me from this pile of paper, lest it bury me alive?” Having just waded through correspondence accumulated over a se’nnight, he shook cramped fingers, then indicated his sister should sit upon the sofa adjacent to his desk.
A year past, she might have flung herself upon it, toed off dainty slippers, and tucked her feet up under her. Since the incident at Ramsgate, Georgiana sat demurely, shoulders back, hands folded upon her lap. “Yes, I am in perfect health, thank you. Yes, Mrs Annesley walked here with me, but she has gone to speak to Mrs Walker. No, I am sorry to say I had no intention of digging you out from beneath paper when I set out this morning.”
“What is it then, Poppet? You seem slightly perturbed.”
“Good heavens, Fitzwilliam. One minute I am a waterbird with a waddling gait, next I am a wee poppet again.”
Whenever she smiles so sweetly like that, she reminds me of our late mother. And I wish Georgiana still was a waddling tot. “Is there a problem, dearest? Does your doll need rescuing from atop your bed curtains yet again ?”
“As you well know, I threw Mag atop my canopy only the once, the summer when I was but six years of age and you were home at Pemberley from Cambridge. No, the problem is that Miss Bingley sent round a note, filled with her typical style of flummery, informing me of their party’s arrival at Grosvenor Street. You and I have been invited to dine with them this evening at half past six.”
“Tonight? Terribly short notice. Did she mention when they returned to town?”
“Yes. A whole hour ago. I wonder what took her so long.”
That sounds like something Elizabeth might say. I wonder what she is doing at this moment. Does she miss me as much as I miss her? Has she been able to allay her father’s concerns? Is she ? —
“Did you hear me, Brother?”
“Yes, of course.” What did I miss?
“Very well, then.” With the slightest hint of a grimace, Georgiana sighed. “I shall send round our acceptance at once.”
Blast !
Darcy glanced at the mantel clock. Its hands both pointed at eleven. Of course.
At precisely quarter past six that Monday evening, Darcy and his sister arrived at the Hursts’ modest town house. Although the sun would not set for at least another two hours, the place was aglow with sweet-scented beeswax candles. Such waste, simply to make a show of one’s wealth.
A footman had barely received their hats and such when Miss Bingley, elegant and smiling, swept from the drawing room into the vestibule, a large, green silk shawl billowing behind her.
“Mr Darcy! Georgiana! How punctual you are. And how happy I am to see you both. It is so very courteous of you to be the first to welcome us home.”
You invited us to do so, madam. And Georgiana is Miss Darcy to you. Darcy gave the woman a dignified bow, and the two ladies performed their curtseys with practised precision.
Linking arms with both Darcys, Miss Bingley said, “That lilac colour is nothing short of perfection on you, Georgiana. And Mr Darcy, Charles informed us that you recently attended a little house party in Buckinghamshire. You must tell us all about it. I insisted the smaller table be used so that your scintillating conversation may be heard by all.”
Scintillating?
“In the meantime, do come through, dear friends. We await a couple more guests. A cousin dropped in earlier, so I had no choice but to invite him to dine as well. Then, of course, the number was off with one too many men. So I asked Miss Grantley to come. Both of them should be here directly, but separately. ”
Why does Mrs Hurst, who should be tonight’s hostess, allow herself to be overshadowed by a younger sister? The manner of interaction between the two women brought to Darcy’s mind Miss Catherine and Miss Lydia Bennet.
Upon entering the drawing room, as though her sister and brothers—the latter already on their feet—could not see well enough, Miss Bingley said, “Louisa, Hurst, Charles, our most important guests have arrived.”
Darcy bowed respectfully to Mrs Hurst, the de facto mistress of the house, and greeted the men. Having ensured his sister, after shyly extending her own courteous regards, was comfortably situated, he then stood beside Bingley and enquired after his Scarborough sojourn.
Miss Bingley soon sidled up to them. “Mr Darcy, can you not talk some sense into my brother about this foolish scheme of his to return to that country house he leased in the wilds of Hertfordshire? Charles, having just arrived in town, we should stay here at least a se’nnight to be with our true friends.”
Turning to Georgiana, she said, “If we must go to that wretched place, I hope, dear Georgiana, you will accompany us this time. If you are not so compassionate as to agree, my family and I shall be in danger of hating each other for the rest of our lives. There is so little to do in that dull neighbourhood, and being confined in such close quarters with one’s sister and brothers for more than a se’nnight must end in horrid discord. Of course, you would know nothing of disharmony, for you are of such a sweet disposition, and you have the very best of brothers.”
The woman’s flummery was turning Darcy’s stomach, which was unfortunate since dinner soon would be served. Speaking for his blushing sister who seemed at a loss for words, he said, “I thank you on Miss Darcy ’s behalf. She and I shall discuss the possibility, and you will have our answer tomorrow.” Turning to his friend, he asked when Bingley intended to go to Netherfield.
“I had planned to leave by week’s end, but now I have changed my mind.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” cried Miss Bingley, pressing a palm to her heart.
Voice firm and lower pitched than was customary, Bingley said, “We shall leave on the morrow. I am keen to spend as much time as possible with our Hertfordshire friends.”
Unseemly cries of outrage issued from his sisters.
Mrs Hurst turned to her husband. “The least you could do, Freddie, is support Caroline and me in our objection.”
“It makes little difference to me where I spend my time,” said he. “’Tis much of a muchness, really. Like your brother, when I am in the country, I never wish to leave it. When I am here in town, it is pretty much the same. Each place has its benefits, and I can be equally happy in either as long as there is food, drink, and a pack of cards to be had.”
In Darcy’s opinion, and to his disgust, Hurst’s time was trifled away without benefit from books or anything else worth his while.
A footman announced another guest’s arrival, and Miss Bingley went to fetch her.
With everyone in the room already acquainted with Miss Grantley, no introductions, only polite salutations, were necessary when the young lady entered. Darcy knew that due to their newly acquired wealth, the Grantley family was considered nouveau riche by members of the nobility and often referred to as upstarts.
Between Mrs Hurst and Miss Grantley, Georgiana sat primly and softly responded in monosyllables when directly spoken to by anyone. Taking a seat adjacent to her and watching from the corner of his eye, Darcy sympathised, knowing full well that small talk was as distasteful to his sister as it was to him.
Contrasting her demure demeanour with the brazenness of another young lady of sixteen years, he recalled Lydia Bennet’s insolent words upon seeing him at the Gardiners’. I cannot imagine Georgiana uttering anything even remotely close to ‘Lawks! Why is he here? Make him go away’. Rousing himself from those thoughts, Darcy consulted the mantel clock and tapped fingers upon his thigh. Whoever this inconsiderate final guest might be, he is tardy by eleven inexcusable minutes.
When a commotion in the vestibule heralded the man’s arrival, Mrs Hurst gave a nod to her sister, upon which signal Miss Bingley again excused herself. She moved in such an ostentatious and provocative manner that Darcy suspected it was a ploy to capture his attention, as was Mrs Hurst’s relinquishment of duties for the evening.
Upon her return to the drawing room, Miss Bingley was arm in arm with a gentleman who stopped short and cried out in surprised delight, “I say! Darcy!”
“Good heavens.” Darcy shot to his feet and smiled so widely that everyone gaped at him. “What an unexpected but pleasant surprise, Hadley.”
All the gapes turned to puzzlement.
Bingley approached and shook Hadley’s hand. “How do you do, David? How on earth are you acquainted with Darcy?”
“He and I met at a house party in Buckinghamshire.”
“When I first saw Hadley,” said Darcy, “I thought he could be your twin. I even told him he reminded me of a very good friend of mine not only in appearance but in character, which, I said, was a compliment to him. ”
“By Jove, Darcy,” said Hadley, “I remember that conversation, but I had no notion you were referring to good old Charlie here. Our mothers, you see, were sisters.”
“Gentlemen,” said Miss Bingley, tugging Hadley’s arm, “perhaps we could continue this conversation in the dining room. Dinner was ready to be served a quarter of an hour ago.”
“Am I late? Oh, I do beg your pardon, everyone. There was a bit of a to-do while passing through Soho. A herd of cattle was being driven towards Greek Street, perhaps destined for one of the butchers. Speaking of which, I am famished. Lead on, Caro.”
Miss Bingley gave him a glaringly false smile. “First, Davy , you must come and meet Miss Grantley and my dearest friend Miss Georgiana Darcy.”
After those introductions, everyone went through to the dining room.
Seated on Mrs Hurst’s right and left respectively, Darcy and Hadley exchanged grins when the latter twitched his head towards the centre of the table, which was taken up by an elaborate ormolu epergne overflowing with seasonal blooms and fruits.
During the first course, sitting between Darcy and Miss Grantley, Miss Bingley leant to the left. “May I enquire, sir, about that house party you and David attended?”
Darcy spoke of Oakwood Manor’s history and architecture, its gardens, a bit about the late Miss Armstrong, and he mentioned by name Miss Kensett and Mr Fordham. “Also among us was someone who can claim an acquaintance with you.”
Miss Bingley preened. “And who might that be, sir?”
“It really was quite a coincidence to see her there because I was also in her delightful company two months ago while visiting Lady Catherine de Bourgh in Kent. Can you not guess, madam? The young lady with fine eyes has a cousin who happens to hold my aunt’s living at Hunsford.”
The clang of a Sheffield knife hitting Spode porcelain preceded Miss Bingley’s outcry. “No! You cannot mean Miss Bennet!”
From between Hadley and Miss Darcy, Bingley startled and said, “What is this about Miss Bennet?” He looked round the table for an answer. “What have I missed? Of which one do you speak? The eldest? Is Miss Jane Bennet well? Is she not at Longbourn?”
“Oh, Charles,” hissed Mrs Hurst, “do be quiet and let Mr Darcy answer.”
The table went silent but only because the second course was about to be served.
Peering round the epergne, Hadley said, “Are you also acquainted with the charming and delightful Miss Bennet, Caroline?”
“Of which Miss Bennet do you speak?” Bingley stood, all the better to have his voice heard and to glare at his sister across the epergne. “There are five Miss Bennets.”
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Hadley. “The heiress.”
Face drained of all colour, Miss Bingley flinched. “What do you mean ‘heiress’, David? We cannot be speaking of the same Elizabeth Bennet if the one you know is an heiress. The young woman with whom we are acquainted is an impertinent Hertfordshire country chit with a laughable dowry of one thousand pounds, a vulgar family, and relations in trade.”
Georgiana spoke up. “I, too, have met Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and she is perfectly charming.” She gave her brother a pointed look. “I pray she and I may become, at the very least, the best of friends before long. ”
It was the most Darcy had heard his sister utter in public since Ramsgate, and he was proud of her. He also was well pleased she and Elizabeth were fond of one another.
Not bothering to lower her voice, Miss Grantley turned to her left. “Caroline, what was the name of the poor young lady deeply in love with your brother? Was she not a Bennet?” Evidently not the brightest candle in the chandelier, she added, “Remember? You separated them by tricking her into believing your brother has an understand with Miss Da?—”
“This ham is not to my liking.” Miss Bingley’s face had turned from ashen to red. Beckoning a footman, she demanded that the third course be served.
Ears hot, Darcy lowered his fork and looked round the table. No one but Hurst, not even Miss Bingley herself, had sampled a second course dish, nor, to his relief, had anyone accused him of conspiracy. But…another course? She certainly is trying to impress someone. In all likelihood that someone is me.
While Hurst made a grab for a meat pie, the epergne and untouched dishes were being removed, and new dishes—of pigeon pie, prawn, and crab, garden crops galore, and sauces for everything—began to appear on the table. Where the centrepiece had been, a mound of quivering, sugary-white jelly moulded into the shape of a temple was set down.
At opposite ends and corners of the table, Darcy and his sister mouthed a word at one another and exchanged grins.
The punctilious Miss Bingley, on the other hand, seemed to have lost not only her appetite for dinner but all interest in impressing the Darcys with her flummery.