Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“How amazed we were to learn the Bennets kept such exalted company!” Miss Bingley exclaimed when they were all seated.
“Such a remote part of the country—we did not expect anyone of quality to be found here.” She beamed at Suzanne.
Elizabeth concealed a smile; did Miss Bingley not perceive how insulting she sounded?
“Many people of quality enjoy spending time in the country,” Suzanne replied with polished ease.
“The Bennets are landed gentry, and Longbourn has been in their family for several generations. I was delighted to make Elizabeth and Mr Bennet’s acquaintance years ago, and renewing that friendship has been a joy.
” She glanced towards Elizabeth, their shared smile full of familiar affection.
Mrs Hurst joined in. “When will you return to town, Lady Westland?” Her tone was warm, her eyes alight with genuine interest—so unlike her sister’s affected manner.
“My plans are not fixed. I intend to spend Christmas with Elizabeth and her family. Arthur and I shall go to London afterwards. Will you remain in Hertfordshire for Christmastide, or visit Mr Hurst’s family?
” Her returning smile reached her eyes this time and carried none of the polite insincerity she reserved for Miss Bingley.
“Hurst and I have no plans to leave my brother’s house until the new year,” Mrs Hurst replied pleasantly. “We are quite happy in the country. My husband has enjoyed much sport, and my brother is learning a great deal regarding estate management from Mr Darcy.”
“But we do love town,” Miss Bingley interposed. “Mrs Fiennes, will you go to town this season—perhaps to join Lady Westland?” She leaned forwards eagerly, her fan poised in expectation.
“I have always preferred the country to town,” Elizabeth replied with her usual reserve.
“Though I may have cause to travel there this season.” The very thought made her anxious.
Suzanne had already offered the hospitality of Godfrey House should she come, sparing her the necessity of returning to the Fiennes townhouse.
Dinner was soon announced, and the ladies passed into the dining room.
Miss Bingley resumed her chatter, detailing her acquaintances in London, no doubt in the hope of discovering mutual friends.
Suzanne listened courteously, though it quickly became evident they shared none.
The conversation shifted to fashion, accomplishments, and other insipid topics fit for polite company.
Stifling a sigh, Elizabeth turned to Suzanne, determined to seek more sensible discourse. If she were obliged to make one more trite remark on embroidery or watercolours, she would go mad. “Will you continue to oversee Godfrey Manor after your marriage?” she asked.
Suzanne seized upon the new topic with something akin to relief.
“Yes, indeed. I have a very good understanding with my steward, as you know. Still, it will be a comfort to have Mr Blythe’s assistance.
Tenants do not always take kindly to a lady managing affairs.
Henry will allow me to make the decisions and then present them in my stead—it will save many a needless argument. ”
“Have you managed your son’s inheritance solely for long?” Miss Bingley asked, her curiosity appearing genuine.
“I have. All business relating to the earldom has fallen under my care, with the support of my steward and my brother-in-law, Lord Matlock. Women are quite as capable in such matters as men. I believe none could find fault with my management, and my son will inherit a prosperous and well-governed estate.” She smiled with contained pride as she raised her spoon.
Miss Bingley appeared thoughtful. “I was always told such matters were best left to the men.”
Suzanne turned to her fully. “Do you consider yourself an intelligent woman, Miss Bingley? I do not mean accomplished—can you reason? Do you think clearly?”
“Of course.” Miss Bingley coloured a little. “But my mother always said that men dislike clever women. She thought it best to conceal such qualities until after the wedding.”
Mrs Hurst, who had listened intently, leaned forwards.
“Yet she encouraged us to learn. Caroline always took greater pleasure in our lessons than I did. I married a man who valued my dowry more than my mind, and we rub along well enough. However, I have met gentlemen who truly appreciate a wife with whom they can converse rationally.”
Elizabeth remained silent. Fiennes had not desired an intelligent wife; indeed, he had discouraged her every attempt to broaden her mind through reading.
She had been little more than an ornament and a bearer of heirs—nothing more was required, and anything more was met with punishment.
Since his death, she had devoured every volume once forbidden her, an act of private rebellion against a man who no longer held power over her.
“Mr Blythe values a sharp mind,” Suzanne continued, drawing Elizabeth’s attention back to the table. “It is one of the qualities I most admire in him. He encourages my ‘unladylike’ tendencies—one might say he indulges them.”
Before Miss Bingley could respond, a flash of lightning illuminated the windows, followed almost instantly by a peal of thunder so loud it made the china tremble and all the ladies start.
“Dear me,” Miss Bingley lifted a hand to her throat, her gaze darting towards the windows. “It grows rather wild without. Ladies, I doubt your carriage will be able to manage the road between here and Longbourn.”
“The gentlemen have not returned.” Mrs Hurst observed, moving to the window, her hands tightening together in unease.
“We shall know more once they arrive,” said Lady Westland. “Miss Bingley, if the weather prevents our return to Longbourn, might we beg the favour of rooms for the night?”
Their hostess brightened at once and assented with delight. Mrs Hurst resumed her seat, and the conversation turned to lighter topics.
Elizabeth tried to attend, but her thoughts clouded. Her mind strayed to Longbourn—to Elinor—and unease pressed on her as she wondered how her daughter would fare if her mama did not return before bedtime.