Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Elizabeth found that, with the influx of callers at Millwood, there came a corresponding flood of invitations to card parties, dinners, and every variety of neighbourhood amusement.
The party at Millwood took care to accept only those engagements that did not extend indiscriminately to the whole of the militia, and they were gratified to observe that, once the proper cautions had been given, most hosts had grown equally particular in their guest lists.
Some continued to include the colonel and a few of the senior officers; yet even so, the earl had resolved to be exceedingly selective in what he accepted, at least until he better understood when—or whether—his title might become more widely known after Hurst had spoken of it at Netherfield.
On that particular evening, they had agreed to attend a small dinner at Lucas Lodge.
The Bennets of Longbourn had been invited, along with the Longs and the Gouldings, and, from what Elizabeth had gathered from Charlotte, that was to be the extent of the company.
Mr Collins was also present, to the evident displeasure of those from Millwood; yet, after the manner in which he had been treated by her ladyship’s nephews at Longbourn, and having been repeatedly denied admission at Millwood Cottage, he had apparently resolved to avoid its residents for the evening.
She was therefore much surprised when Mr and Mrs Hurst were announced into the party. She had known them to be still at Netherfield, but had not imagined that the society of Meryton would hold sufficient attraction to draw them from it.
The couple started slightly at the sight of the earl, and Elizabeth watched them approach the small group where she stood beside her grandfather, who was deep in conversation with Mr Darcy and Mr Goulding.
“Good evening,” her grandfather said upon their arrival, fixing Hurst with a look of unmistakable authority.
“Good evening, Mr… Mr Grant,” Hurst replied, hesitating only a fraction over the name.
Elizabeth was obliged to lower her head to hide her smile when her grandfather gave a grave nod of approval. For one absurd moment, she thought he resembled a monarch bestowing favour.
The thought tempted her to glance towards Mr Darcy, but she found him already looking in her direction.
He, too, appeared to be struggling for composure, but when their eyes met, he let one lid fall in the briefest, most conspiratorial wink.
It startled her a little.
It was so unexpected, so unlike Mr Darcy’s previous behaviour, and for him to act so in company was most surprising. That fact, and that he had lowered his guard with her enough to tease her, even a little, delighted her.
Elizabeth’s amusement was cut short when Mrs Hurst spoke to her directly. “Miss Elizabeth,” she began, “I know it may seem odd, but might I speak to you for a moment?” She paused a moment before adding, “in private?”
Raising her brow slightly at this request, she glanced first at Mr Darcy, then at her grandfather. Neither man seemed to object, and since they would remain in the room, she agreed.
Once they had withdrawn to a quiet corner and satisfied themselves that no one stood close enough to overhear, Mrs Hurst clasped her hands together and began. “I believe I owe you an apology for my behaviour,” she said.
Elizabeth hesitated, uncertain how to answer, and in that moment Mrs Hurst hurried on.
“Over the last several years—indeed, the whole of my life—I have behaved very much as my younger sister does. We disdained those who live in this village because we chose to believe them beneath us, even though many of you are gentry.” She glanced down, then back up again.
“In truth, since I am married to a gentleman, I stand on the same level as any of you. If anything, I married up. I am still the daughter of a tradesman, and I was foolish to pretend otherwise.”
She shifted her weight a little, her voice tightening as she spoke. “I might blame it, in part, on following Caroline’s lead, but I am quite old enough to answer for my own conduct.”
Elizabeth inclined her head in agreement.
“I cannot disagree with anything you have said,” she replied after a moment. “But I am uncertain why you are apologising to me. Is it because you now know who my grandfather is?”
Mrs Hurst drew in a breath, her gaze flickering briefly across the room before returning to Elizabeth.
“In part,” she admitted, lowering her voice, “but not for the reason you think. While I do not fully understand the need for secrecy, the discovery that a peer can so easily be moving amongst us was a considerable shock. What astonishes me more is that he chose not to proclaim it.”
She paused, debating how much further she ought to say.
“Still, that was only the final spur. Since my brother and sister returned to London, my husband and I have been quite alone—possibly for the first time in our marriage. As we had not troubled ourselves to cultivate real friendships here, we were left very much to our own devices.”
A faint colour rose in her cheeks.
“It forced us to speak plainly. Among other things, my husband confessed how weary he has grown of Caroline’s constant presence—and more than that, how much he dislikes seeing me treat those around me as though they are lesser.
He said that has been the reason he has turned to drink; he was not so indolent when we married.
We have agreed that we both need to change our behaviours in the future, and we will start by breaking away entirely from Caroline.
I do not know what is taking Charles so long to get her settled; we have heard from him only twice in this last month. ”
Elizabeth nodded. “I wish you every success in your endeavours,” she said after only a momentary pause. “I know how difficult it can be to alter habits long established, and I think it speaks very well of you that you are willing to try. Do you intend to remain at Netherfield?”
“We had planned to stay through Christmas unless we hear from Charles,” Mrs Hurst replied.
“Mrs Nicholls has sufficient funds from my brother to pay the servants until Lady Day, and after that we shall determine what is best. I do not imagine we will be in London for the Season this year. We have spoken instead of going to my husband’s family so we might spend some time with them for a change. ”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before coming to a decision.
“I have been quite remiss in not calling at Netherfield, Mrs Hurst,” she said. “If you would allow it, I should like to pay my respects to your family in a few days’ time.”
“You would be very welcome, Miss Elizabeth,” she replied.
“In fact, I would very much like it if you could bring Miss Darcy with you. About a se’nnight ago, I paid a call to Longbourn and Lucas Lodge, and said something similar to the residents there as I did to you.
That is how I came to be invited tonight.
I am not the social creature my sister is, but I should be delighted to make a few good friends here. ”
This time, Elizabeth turned her full smile onto her companion.
“That would be delightful. I know that I will be in the area until after Christmas, but Grandpapa has indicated his desire to participate in the Season this year, and he will expect me to be his hostess. Still, I would be delighted to deepen our acquaintance while we remain in the area.”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Mrs Hurst said, obviously grateful for the easy acceptance.
Elizabeth briefly wondered if she had issued similar apologies to others, but chose not to focus on it.
Instead, she asked Mrs Hurst a few questions about the Season, and surprisingly, Mrs Hurst answered them with helpful suggestions.
For the next quarter of an hour the two remained in relative privacy in their corner of the room, engaged in easy conversation.
Elizabeth observed more than once that Mr Darcy’s attention drifted towards her, and whenever it did, she rewarded him with a small smile.
It seemed to content him, for he would incline his head in return, the faintest answering smile touching his lips before he resumed his conversation with the gentleman beside him.
She had begun to notice, over the last several days, that whenever he was not speaking with her, he was very often watching her, and the thought sent a small, thrilling warmth through her.
At their first meeting she had scarcely been able to endure him, yet the counsel contained in her grandfather’s letter had persuaded her to allow him the opportunity to prove himself.
He had not known such an opportunity was required, but the suggestion that he struggled had softened her towards him, allowing her to look beyond that first unhappy impression.
His unkind words that night might well have secured her lasting dislike, but, in the weeks since, he had shown himself very different from the man she had believed him to be. Even before he had apologised, he had listened to her—
Her reflections were interrupted by the arrival of the gentleman at her side.
“May I escort you in to dinner, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm at his nearness. Mrs Hurst cast her a quick, knowing look before curtseying and moving away in search of her husband, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy momentarily alone.
“Are you well?” Darcy murmured.
“Of course,” she replied quickly. “Mrs Hurst and I were having a delightful conversation. I have never yet participated in the Season, but I know that Grandpapa intends that we shall. We have not spoken of it in detail, yet I believe he uses these months as a kind of private mourning for the loss of his son. Word reached him too late for the funeral, or even for the formal observances, and though we have not entered into mourning, I know it weighs upon him.”
“Which is very likely why he wishes to see you married and happily settled,” Darcy said quietly, offering her his arm as they followed the others towards the dining room.
Lady Lucas, who disliked excessive ceremony, allowed her guests to find their own places at table.
Darcy conducted Elizabeth to seats not far from Sir William at the head, a little lower along the opposite side from Lord Granfield, who occupied the position of honour at his host’s right.
The Hursts were directly across from them, and Elizabeth hoped they might have some opportunity to speak during the evening as well.
She had enjoyed the lady’s company earlier and hoped she might prove much more pleasant company without her younger sister.
Glancing around, Elizabeth noticed that Colonel Fitzwilliam had secured a chair beside Jane and Mary some distance away, and she could not resist observing the rest of the company as they settled.
Georgiana sat farther down between Mary and Kitty, while Lydia had installed herself among Maria Lucas and several other young ladies.
Mr Collins occupied a seat near the foot of the table, placed nearer to Charlotte and her mother, Lady Lucas.
Mary, she observed with quiet satisfaction, had softened her appearance of late.
Since forming a friendship with Georgiana, her hair had been arranged with greater care, and the severity that once marked her clothing had given way to colours far more becoming.
Elizabeth resolved to encourage the improvement whenever she could.
When at last Elizabeth’s eyes met her grandfather’s, she saw that he had already been looking at her. There was resignation in his expression at the sight of her dinner companion.
She answered it with a smile—full of affection, yet touched with the smallest spark of defiance.
He held her gaze for a long moment. His mouth tightened, but his eyes softened, and at last he inclined his head in reluctant acknowledgement before turning back to Sir William.
From the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Darcy glance down the table, as though to assure himself of his sister and cousin. Whatever he observed appeared to satisfy him. When he turned back to her, she caught the faint curve of a smile he had not quite succeeded in suppressing.
“So tell me, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her tone light with mischief, “do you mean to honour the Season this year by lending your presence?”
After her earlier reflections regarding her dinner companion, she had sought some easy subject, something that might be spoken of without danger, and seized upon the topic she had so lately discussed with Mrs Hurst.
“Naturally,” he returned in kind. “If I attempted escape, Lady Matlock would discover my hiding place and haul me to Town by the ear.”
A reluctant laugh escaped him, and he shook his head as if amused. “She insists I must attend for at least a month or two since I refuse her anything longer. My aunt and I have never quite agreed on how often I ought to parade myself through the obligations of the ton.”
He paused a moment, as if reconsidering how much he ought to say. “My aunt is quite certain my happiness depends upon my attending.”
Then his voice lowered, softening in a way that suggested the next words were meant for her alone: “I am beginning to think my happiness may already be decided.”
For one suspended instant, Elizabeth forgot entirely how conversation was meant to proceed; words simply refused to form.
Heat flooded her cheeks. Her fingers tightened upon the napkin in her lap, then loosened at once, only to clutch it again before she forced herself to release it altogether.
She was certain no one else at the table could have heard what he had said.
But she had. Oh, she had understood him perfectly.
What am I meant to do with such a declaration, offered so calmly in the middle of a dinner?How could he say that here—now? she thought.
She dared not trust her voice, either to accept it or to scold him for it.
Instead, she attempted a smile—whether it succeeded she could not have said—and fixed her attention with exaggerated care upon the arrangement of plates before her, as if the pattern there might instruct her in how a lady ought to behave when a gentleman quietly placed his entire future in her keeping.
Beside her, Mr Darcy moved.
She became aware—without daring to look at him—that he had reached for the nearest dish.
“If you will permit me,” he said in a tone of the most perfect composure, “I should recommend the pheasant.”
When at last she risked a glance at him, she discovered his expression was hardly affected by his words nor her reaction to them. However, as she looked more closely, she discovered that his eyes betrayed him.
They were entirely, intolerably pleased.