Chapter 37
T his pattern repeated itself on several more occasions.
Though a ball was soon ruled out because the full moon would not occur before Mr Johnson’s business required he leave the country, we went to Longbourn for tea and Lucas Lodge for cards.
Fitzwilliam made himself useful to Jane Bennet by never failing to stand beside her whenever she was at risk of finding herself in conversation with Bingley, and as promised, Georgiana bestowed her attention upon those she had marked out as most deserving of it.
With pearls around her neck and in her hair, dressed in such sumptuous, well-draped gowns as she had accumulated for a Season in London, she doted upon her newly met friend, Miss Bennet.
She spared no less attention for Elizabeth, and what slices remained of the pie of her condescension were then thinly divided between Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, Miss Johnson, and her relations.
I stood there as useful to this cause as a tree branch in a parlour.
Unable to suppress a faint smile at my present usefulness, which was none, I was reminded of the many times I had stood invisible next to a mule while Carsten and Donaldson quarrelled about the making of camp.
This led me to recall a conversation months ago in London when Georgiana had explained to Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner how much she counted on our cousin to support her in her presentation, before blushingly remembering she had a brother.
Aside from having no cause for action during these gatherings except to fade into invisibility whenever Miss Bingley threatened to engage me in conversation, I tried and sometimes succeeded in finding something to laugh at.
But I was never truly at ease, for I felt certain we were due for some sort of shock I was helpless to prevent.
The legitimacy of this unending vigilance ultimately came one night at a dinner party at Netherfield Park.
While the first such reception had been widely inclusive, this one had comprised only the Bennets and the Lucases, who were generally considered the highest society in the neighbourhood.
Regardless of those not invited, we were still a large party and filled every seat at Bingley’s table.
I sat in expectation that Lydia Bennet would mortify us, or Mrs Bennet would begin to spout broad hints and winks at my cousin that her dear Jane was ripe for an offer of marriage.
Instead, it was Miss Bingley who fired a shot off the bow.
Apparently, she had not been as occupied with her other guests or as oblivious to the paltriness of my sister’s attention to her as I had thought.
“My dear Georgiana,” she said with false affection, “I did not know you were so well acquainted with Eliza Bennet.”
“Oh? We met in London before my presentation,” my sister replied.
“In London? How did you happen upon one another there ?”
“I was introduced to her and her London relations,” she said, looking warmly down the table at her friend, “and we exchanged visits.”
“Visits? In Cheapside?” Miss Bingley exclaimed with a rueful little laugh. And then completely forgetting herself, she said, “I did not know you mixed with people in trade. How very modern of you!”
This acid remark had fallen rather unfortunately at a moment when there had been a general pause in the conversation as sometimes happens, and the entire table heard it.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Elizabeth reach across Mr Lucas to grasp her mother’s arm as if demanding her to be silent.
Mr Johnson, whose origins and fortune were directly tied to trade, cleared his throat.
Miss Johnson looked down at her plate, and Mrs Johnson put her napkin to her lips.
We endured a wretched moment of stunned silence before anyone spoke, and when conversation resumed, it was in private murmurs and upon such safe subjects as are usually engaged upon by dinner companions.
Georgiana turned to Mr Johnson, who happened to be seated next to her, and asked if he had indeed been to China as she had heard.
I asked Mrs Hurst if I might refill her glass of wine, and Fitzwilliam, seated next to Lady Lucas, asked what year her husband had been knighted.
With exaggerated interest, those seated nearby then listened to Sir William’s further reflections on that day.
At the far end of the table, even Bingley, who might otherwise not have heard his sister’s remark were it not for that ill-fated lull, comprehended the insult to his betrothed.
In a markedly compensatory manner, he added another tender cut of partridge to Miss Johnson’s plate and carefully adjusted her lace shawl, which had slipped behind her.
In effect, Miss Bingley sat in complete isolation for the remainder of the dinner.
Even Mrs Hurst did not come to her rescue, and though we continued our meal pretending nothing untoward had gone on, the conviviality with which we had begun had been lost. The next challenge after dinner was entirely within my sister’s domain.
What passed in the salon while the gentlemen shook off their awkwardness by exchanging off-colour jokes over port, I could only guess.
After the interminable hour and a half that followed, the party broke apart. No one lingered in the drawing room for cards or entertainment, and thus, what I most despise about a house party—those undercurrents of grievance and polite snubs—began to develop.
Georgiana, who had grown up a great deal in a short span of time, had no experience of this phenomenon.
She came to my room the next morning, and after claiming she had hardly slept at all on account of her seething, and having no cause to mention names, she cried, “What a vile thing to say in such mixed company and in such a sneering manner!”
“Sit down,” I said gently.
“I do not want to sit!” she roared as she paced before me. “How am I to act? I cannot stand the sight of her!” And then, having caught a glimpse of me in the mirror, she whirled to face me. “I see you are dressed for riding. Might I come with you? I could be ready in ten minutes.”
With her face a mask of cold disdain, we trotted our horses away from Netherfield Park. Very soon afterwards, we were joined by a third rider.
“I thought you meant to hunt today,” I said to Fitzwilliam as he galloped up beside us.
“And instead, I am off to visit the nieces of a tradesman,” he said with a wink.
“May we go with you?” my sister begged.
And thus, we shortly found ourselves gathered in an entirely different atmosphere than the one we had left behind.
I expected to enter a cloud of lingering resentment, but instead, we were met with a sea of smiles.
Mrs Bennet did not come downstairs to greet us. Upon my sister’s enquiry, Elizabeth explained that her mother had likely eaten something that did not agree with her, but with such lightness as made clear Mrs Bennet was more likely nursing her ill feelings than truly unwell.
“Indeed,” Mr Bennet said with a smirk, which only confirmed my suspicions. “She did not come down for breakfast, and though I am certain she would prefer to entertain guests, she is awaiting the visit of the local apothecary and must be excused.” Without apology, he then wandered out of the room.
“What have you ladies been about this morning?” Fitzwilliam then asked to smooth over the desertion of our host, and though he addressed them generally, he looked to Miss Bennet for her reply.
“I am attempting to encourage my sisters to read more,” she said sweetly. “We have lately been working on a play.”
“Ambitious. What work pray tell?”
“Oh well, nothing so very erudite, sir. We are attempting to adapt Mrs Edgeworth’s latest novel for the stage, complete with drawings of the costumes and set pieces.”
“What mischief is this? You poor lambs,” he said, directing his remark to the youngest ladies in the room. “Have you no notion you are being tricked into reading, writing, drawing, and planning?”
“ I, sir, have no plans to read a novel,” Mary Bennet said stiffly.
“Lord, Mary. Make a play out of Dr Johnson’s sermons, then,” Lydia said with a lavish roll of her eyes. “We would all dearly love to see that. ”
My sister, interrupting whatever sermon was forming on the lips of the accused, spoke up. “I myself have had a regimen of study, but I dislike sums so much, my cousin devises little puzzles which require me to figure.”
“Truly?” exclaimed Miss Bennet. “I would like to see how that is done. Might you show me, sir?”
“If you have a piece of paper…” he said. And thus our party was again pared down as the two of them sat at a table in the corner engaged in creating puzzles and numerical riddles.
Georgiana, seeking to console Mary Bennet’s affronted feelings, sat near her and asked after her musical practice and whether she had found anything to her liking in the sheet music she brought.
Kitty and Lydia, who refused to be left out of my sister’s consideration, went to retrieve the gazettes of fashion she had brought, and the three of them cheerfully contested one another for Georgiana’s attention.
“Are you well, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, taking a seat nearby from which she could observe the room.
“Tolerably. And you?”
“I am as well as you claim to be,” she said with a sneaking glance at my face. Then she looked away, and with a slight shrug she said, “though I woke this morning with a strong desire to stay in bed. What a strain we endured last night.”
“Your mother took it with admirable restraint,” I murmured.
“Oh, as to that, I had given her a strong lecture on how easily Colonel Fitzwilliam could be put off visiting our family with any outbursts from her. Because his father is an earl, she bit her tongue, and I mean she did so literally. I assure you, however, she indulged her feelings thoroughly thereafter, so much so, she is exhausted. And your sister? She looks a touch careworn this morning if I am not mistaken.”
“She is thirsty to avenge you and your relations in trade ,” I said lightly. “I await the proper moment to advise her to be kind to her adversary, for this sort of indignation only ever wears on a person.”
“I had much the same thought when I saw her bristle last night. Her temper is not unlike yours, I believe. Still, she should not fall into resentment, or she might make herself ill. Allow me to make the suggestion, if I may?”
“By all means,” I said. “Your advice is likely to be more salient than my own in this case.”
And with this, she abandoned me and went to Miss Bennet, who had beckoned her to see how cleverly Fitzwilliam had made a puzzle of sums.