Chapter Six
S how me what you brought, Eliza,” Charlotte commanded. “I will help you pick out a dress for tonight.”
Together, they rifled through Elizabeth’s gowns. “This is lovely,” Charlotte said, pulling out a deep blue gown. “I do not recall seeing you wear it.”
“My Aunt Gardiner sent the fabric. It is a new colour, called Imperial Blue.”
“Do I recognise Jane’s handiwork?” Charlotte said, pointing to the silver embroidery on the hem and sleeves.
“You do, indeed. She wanted to make certain I had at least one nice new thing to wear here at Hunsford, though I confess I did not expect to be invited to Lady Catherine’s home for dinner.”
“And look how it is cut! Very clever, indeed. It must be quite flattering on your slim figure, Eliza.”
“I think it is, Charlotte. I look forward to wearing it.”
Charlotte sighed. “Actually, it is rather too fine a gown to wear for Lady Catherine’s dinner.”
“Too fine? I do not understand.”
“She has a daughter, Miss Anne de Bourgh, and it is important to Lady Catherine that Miss de Bourgh always be the best-dressed young lady in the room.”
Elizabeth stared at Charlotte. “Truly, Charlotte?”
“Truly. It is everything absurd, I know, but Mr. Collins and I cannot afford to upset her ladyship in any way. Let us see what else you brought.”
They settled on a gown of pale pink. The colour had been popular three years ago, and there was no embroidery. “This is plain enough, I trust?” Elizabeth asked, hoping she had managed to keep any sarcasm from her voice.
“It is, but it will still look beautiful with your dark hair and eyes. Do not be angry with me, Eliza; believe me when I tell you that irritating Lady Catherine is in no one’s best interest.”
Elizabeth felt immediately ashamed of herself. What possible advantage could accrue to her by arousing the ire of Mr. Collins’ patroness? “I am not angry, Charlotte. I am sorry if it sounded so.”
“We do a good deal of tip-toeing around the de Bourghs. I suppose it has become second nature to me, so I forget how utterly absurd it must seem to others.”
“What can you tell me of the daughter?”
“Very little, as it happens. I am too lowly a personage to have a relationship with her, of course, and the few conversations I have had with her do not leave me hoping for more.”
“How old is she?”
“I believe she is twenty-five years of age.”
“Is she pretty?”
“No, quite the opposite. She is very thin and her complexion is sallow. She pads her bodice to create the illusion of a womanly figure, but she does not really know how to do it, so – alas! – the padding is all too obvious. Her hair is brown, but not a dark colour like yours; it is more like your sister Mary’s hair, though not as thick as Mary’s. Her eyes…well, honestly, I am not certain. Brown, I imagine.”
“Accomplishments?”
“None, though Cook tells me that she has begun to learn the pianoforte.”
“We would know nothing of our neighbours were it not for the servants’ grapevine!” Elizabeth laughed.
“Very true; and from the same source, I have learnt that this Mr. Darcy is Miss Anne’s fiancé.”
“Oh! So he is engaged to his cousin!”
“Exactly. Though there is another nephew in residence, a Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is single.”
“Charlotte, you are beginning to sound like my mother. Perhaps there is something about being the Mistress of Longbourn – or even being the future Mistress of Longbourn – that prompts this sort of talk.”
“Just think how pleased your mother would be if you were to become engaged while here at Hunsford!”
“I think it highly unlikely. Now that we have decided on what I am to wear, what of Maria? Shall we find something in her wardrobe that does not allow anyone to see how pretty she is?”