Chapter 15 No Rest for the Fashionable
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NO REST FOR THE FASHIONABLE
They had a quiet day at home the next day, the Sabbath.
Elizabeth learnt that the de Bourgh ladies did not attend church save for when they were in Kent.
They intended to spend the day quiet at home, as was their custom, and renew their energies for the continued assault on London society come Monday.
Elizabeth suggested to Lady Matlock—and her suggestion was received with alacrity—that they forgo any future events that Mr Darcy might attend.
“It will not limit us too greatly, I trust?” she enquired.
To this Lady Matlock replied with a gentle laugh, and over the next week, Elizabeth came to understand why.
London, it seemed, had a never-ending supply of social engagements.
Every morning saw them either making calls or waiting at home to be called upon.
Every afternoon was a walking party or exhibit, and evenings were always something.
Balls, the theatre, a concert, a dinner party—sometimes more than one.
It was surely nothing Elizabeth had ever experienced in Hertfordshire.
Lord Saye and Colonel Fitzwilliam took turns escorting the ladies hither and yon, and Elizabeth imagined it was one of them who kept Mr Darcy apprised of their activities, for they likewise apprised the ladies of his.
“He has as little wish to see Anne as Anne has to see him,” the colonel told her one evening.
“Darcy cannot abide a scene and avoids any suggestion of one. Fortunately, he is perfectly content spending his evenings at home.”
It could not be denied that Anne was having success in her endeavours.
Nothing had come to pass with the marquess, but Lord Amesbury and Lord Rawlings had each danced with her several times and had called bearing posies for both her and Lady Catherine.
The younger ladies soon fell into a morning routine of lingering over tea and talking about Anne’s dances and suitors.
Elizabeth, too, received her fair share of the attention, but she was exceedingly careful to make nothing of any of it and in fact was much quieter than was her wont, hoping to avoid seeming like she was hunting for a husband instead of one for Anne.
“Lord above but I am tired,” Anne said with a sigh at the breakfast table one morning at the end of April. “Can we not have a quiet day once in a while, Mama?”
“Things will be quiet enough once you are married,” Lady Catherine scolded mildly. “It will scarcely be a month until you remark upon the tedium.”
“Surely we might take something or another off the schedule?” Anne urged. “I am sure I cannot even recollect what we must do, so closely have the plans been laid!”
Elizabeth had become adept at one thing above all and that was managing, and even diverting, the inevitable arguments between Anne and her mother.
Anne was given to frequent protestations about all of the events she was made to attend, and Lady Catherine, not much inclined towards soothing, would begin to berate her for failing to appreciate her rightful place in London society.
Elizabeth reached over to lay her hand on Anne’s arm. “I should imagine today of all days ought not to be missed,” she said. “The exhibition at Somerset House is sure to be interesting, and Lady Harrington is hosting Sir Joseph Banks in her salon.”
Anne sniffed but looked slightly interested. “At least there we might sit and be quiet for a time.”
“Yes, indeed,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “And we will be back here in ample time to rest before Mrs Smithson’s ball.”
“Very well,” said Anne. “But how wonderful that tomorrow is Sunday! I am most desirous of a day of rest!”
“I confess I am as well,” said Elizabeth with a laugh. “I have walked more miles through galleries and ballrooms in the past week than I used to walk in the fields in a month at Longbourn.”
“I have received a number of compliments on your behalf, Elizabeth,” said Lady Catherine. “Several of my friends have remarked on the liveliness you bring.”
Elizabeth smiled and thanked her ladyship, as her cheeks warmed with the compliment.
The exhibition at Somerset proved to be as delightful as anticipated.
They met there with a young lady called Miss Goddard.
Elizabeth had had some previous acquaintance with the lady whose family had a home in Hertfordshire.
She was very beautiful and had twenty thousand pounds settled on her, but she was neither proud nor haughty and even Anne thought her charming.
“Do you suppose,” Elizabeth mused as the three ladies stood before a portrait of a severe-looking gentleman in judicial robes, “that the artist deliberately emphasised his subject’s faults, or merely reported what he saw with unflinching honesty?”
“I suspect the latter,” said Miss Goddard with a laugh. “Though one must wonder whether the gentleman recognised his own forbidding aspect when he viewed the finished work.”
“Hmm,” said Anne. She had drifted along beside Elizabeth but showed little true interest in the artwork, merely glancing at it occasionally and briefly. “This reminds me, Elizabeth. Mama insists upon me having painting lessons, but I find it too tedious by half. Surely you would go for me?”
“Oh! Well, if you think your mother—”
“Mama would not need to know,” Anne said shortly. “You will go, and Jenkinson and I shall amuse ourselves elsewhere until we can all return together.”
Elizabeth knew not what to say. It seemed counter to Lady Catherine’s purpose and yet she had already learnt that her life was far easier when Anne was happier. Would she be left alone at these lessons? It seemed Anne thought she should.
“Where do the lessons happen?” she enquired.
“A gallery of some sort. Completely safe,” Anne replied.
Elizabeth made some noises of agreement to the scheme, and the subject was left.
Lady Harrington’s salon was much the same: enjoyable to Elizabeth and tiresome to Anne. The speaker was a noted botanist and had much to tell them all about his travels and collections. Anne sighed, sometimes embarrassingly audibly, and shifted miserably in her seat throughout.
Anne showed more enthusiasm for the Smithson ball. Her two suitors, Lord Amesbury and Lord Rawlings, had both agreed to attend. “I like seeing them both jostle for my favour,” she confided to Elizabeth. “Does that make me terrible?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Women have little enough power in this world. If you are enjoying a modicum of it now, I say you should enjoy it.”
The evening at the Smithsons’ passed in a whirl of dances and conversation. Anne danced twice each with Amesbury and Rawlings, and Elizabeth, watching her become pink-cheeked and merry on the dance floor, believed that soon enough an offer would come to her. Perhaps more than one.
Elizabeth found herself claimed for sets by several agreeable partners, and enjoyed a dance with Colonel Fitzwilliam, but she was well aware that some part of her was always looking for Mr D.
Or Mr Darcy if that was indeed who he was.
Alas such hopes were both vain and useless, for they came to nothing.
Mr D, it would seem, had done otherwise with his evening.
She knew that Mr Darcy was avoiding seeing Anne in society which would thus mean they did not see him. Did the fact that Mr D had gone conspicuously absent mean they were one and the same man? Or was it merely the perversity of mischance?