Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Hugh looked at the chair as if he had never before seen such an item of furniture and did not quite know how it was to be used.
“I will not stay, thank you. Fitzwilliam has allowed me to speak to you, Lizzy, here in relative privacy, and then I had better go and make my peace with Mamma. I was a brute yesterday to shout at you, and I have no excuse for my roughness. I am ashamed. I might have injured you. Though you understand why, I think…”
“I do understand. More than you can imagine.”
Hugh’s grimace spoke of more than physical discomfort.
He could not like appearing so open and vulnerable about such a matter before both a female younger than he was, and the older brother he resented.
“Still, my actions were unconscionable. I would not hurt you for the world, but let my wretched temper overcome me. Forgive me, little cousin, for being such a savage. I will endeavour to do better.”
She held out a hand, which he caught up and pressed to his lips. “Of course I forgive you. You did not hurt me, and I know you never would. Do not think on it.”
“I find it hard to forgive myself.”
“Then adopt my philosophy, Hugh. Think of the past, and what we have and have not done, only as gives you pleasure to remember it. All else is forgot.”
Hugh stooped and embraced her, squeezing the life out of her to signify his thanks. He requested dismissal before charging out of the study with all the fervour of the cavalry sighting a Frenchman.
“He apologised to you, too, sir?” she asked, after Mr Darcy had gone to close the door and returned to his seat.
“Rather more gruffly, and without the embrace.”
“He is sometimes such a boy! A colt that needs tutoring.” Elizabeth took a deep breath.
“Not untrainable, I think. He has guaranteed good behaviour towards Bingley, and promised he will not approach your sister. I hope I may trust him.”
“He does not break his word. I am relieved. I hope the general’s fatherly talk bears fruit.”
“Yes. The general told me he has watched Hugh grow from the time he and Tom were both in short frocks, and in his opinion, Hugh had always a hard mouth to the bridle, and is hot-tempered to boot. I did not cavil at such an opinion, I can tell you.” Mr Darcy laughed then, though it had no mirth to it.
“He said Hugh fretted from a want of occupation, and most of his distempered freaks came from that as well as the dissonance, as the old man called it, between everyone treating him as the young master for most of his life, since I was absent for so much of it, and yet not being the master in truth, with all that suggests for thwarted expectations.”
“Hugh feels displaced. We discussed it yesterday.” It took a great effort to keep the fellow-feeling from her tone.
“I remember. The general was of the opinion Hugh should have been sent into one of the usual occupations for a second son—the army, the church or the law.”
“You said such a lack of occupation can damage a young man, and that was the reason you went into the Colonial Office. I can understand it might have been efficacious for Hugh, too. Although,” Elizabeth felt bound to add, “I do not think he would fall into the dissipation and evil habits you saw in other young men. He has not that temperament, to be tempted by sinful pleasures. You are alike there, I think.”
“You understand him better than I, so I bow to your knowledge. An occupation may have given him some much-needed discipline and control.” Mr Darcy looked away. “It was hard to give mine up. The gains do not always outweigh the losses.”
It was not the first time he had hinted that he, too, was not living the life he wished.
A small warmth kindled in her. Pity, perhaps. Or sympathy. “Yes. I see.”
“Do you?”
“You said yesterday that Pemberley did not yet feel like home. You must feel the loss of your old life, the excitement, the feeling you are achieving something good for king and country, of being master of your own fate. I do understand. Pemberley is a great responsibility, but of an entirely different kind.”
His smile was a thin thing, but genuine. It struck Elizabeth that Pemberley, of late, could boast a fine collection of those who had, one way or another, been dispossessed and could be said to be wandering the desert.
“Of course,” Elizabeth went on, “Hugh is luckier than most second sons. He has an estate at Shireoaks, which while not the equal of Pemberley, is a neat holding.”
“Aye. My uncle’s second son is colonel of the Royal Horse Guards Blue, and would give much for Hugh’s advantages.
” Mr Darcy shook his head. “Well, the general said he offered Hugh the advice he would give to Tom in the same circumstances—to moderate his temper, and either learn to live with the reality that I am fixed here now or take himself off to Shireoaks to be his own master.”
“Hugh would not like to leave Pemberley. Nor would my aunt want him to be so far. It must be thirty miles.”
“She might go with him, I suppose, but I cannot allow Georgiana to be at that distance. I have another great responsibility there. Well, we can but see if Hugh ponders the general’s advice, and what he decides.”
“I hope he will decide wisely. Because of his obvious resentment, he is not putting himself into the best light with you.”
His jaw tightened, and he rubbed a hand over his face. Neither of them mentioned the fear standing so tall it cast great shadows: that Hugh’s resentment had led to injudicious actions.
“Enough of it. Hugh is home, and we may yet go forward in better step together.” Mr Darcy gave her a sharp-eyed look, and smiled suddenly. “You are remarkably easy to confide in, ma’am. I had not thought it possible I would ever speak about my affairs in such free fashion!”
“I am honoured to have your confidence, sir, and undertake never to break it.”
“I know. I trust you.” He leaned back in his chair. “On another matter, George told me an hour ago he will not come with us to Buxton on Friday. He is reluctant to leave old Mr Wickham. It is a pity, because he looked particularly drawn and weary today. I suspect his father’s care weighs heavy.”
“He is an attentive son.” She turned her face away.
It would not do for him to read remorse and guilt in whatever expression she wore to hide behind.
He had sharper eyes than she was comfortable with.
When she believed she had command of her countenance, she smiled and rose, saying she would go to the Bingley ladies to discuss the Buxton excursion and be certain all their wishes and expectations were met. He rose to bow her out.
“Thank you for the care you offer my guests, Miss Elizabeth. And, most particularly, for your good understanding of Hugh. You have done much to mitigate my ire towards him, you know, and help me to understand him. I am grateful.”
She blushed, dissembled, and made her escape as swiftly as she could. She did not feel she deserved his thanks. She felt she was a shallow fool, and had no right to pretend that she understood any man’s heart, when she had refused to see George’s even when it was laid at her feet.
Angelica Catalani lived up to her name. She did indeed sing like an angel, her voice clear and silvery in the topmost notes, rich and golden in the lower.
The concert had been very well attended with many of the important people of the district—the duke was present, and although he did not put himself out to greet many people, he accorded the Pemberley party a gracious nod of recognition that had the Bingley ladies twittering with excitement.
Public attention being firmly on His Grace, Elizabeth was able to ensconce herself in her seat in the box Mr Darcy had reserved, and allow the sublime singing to dissolve away her anxieties and griefs.
That had been yesterday, and now, after a day of exploring Buxton with the Bingleys, she entered the Grand Hotel’s enormous public rooms for the monthly assembly.
She had not attended before; only the smaller affair in Lambton, which, at only five miles from Pemberley or Frith House, was an easy distance for her family to travel.
Buxton was more than twice as far, and the subscription fees so high her mother could not even dream of affording them.
Mr Darcy had paid for their entrance tickets without blinking at the cost, of course.
The main dancing room was a spacious apartment, well lit by chandeliers and wall sconces.
Small tables were scattered around the sides of the room, the gilded chairs boasting spindly legs and a great deal of ruby-red velvet.
What a relief her overdress was emerald silk, and not red!
She had no wish to be mistaken for the furniture.
In the minstrel’s gallery to one side, the orchestra tuned up in a soft cacophony of discordant notes.
A serving-man appeared to collect the light wraps the ladies had all worn to protect their ball gowns during the arduous journey from their rooms on the floors above, and bear them away to the care of the young women who ruled the retiring room.
The ladies’ gowns were revealed in their full glory for the first time.
“Goodness, Miss Eliza. What a very dramatic gown,” said Miss Bingley, resplendent in something from a London modiste that had, most likely, cost more than Elizabeth’s entire dress allowance for the year. “And dear Jane, too! What interesting silks. They are silk, are they not?”
“Yes. Mr Darcy brought the sari lengths home from India.” Elizabeth smiled, because the London dress was not in the least as striking as her own, and Jane was so glorious in her blue and silver that most of the men in the ballroom were craning their necks to see her, mouths agape.
“I would have brought you some too, Caroline,” Mr Bingley put in, “but you wrote to tell me you did not trust my judgement as to colours and patterns.” He bowed to Elizabeth and Jane. “You both look quite splendid, I assure you. It quite makes me homesick for Bengal!”
“I am glad to see you putting the saris to such good use.” Mr Darcy bowed, and led them to the tables and chairs reserved for their party.
He seated Aunt Darcy and a Georgiana who was excited at attending her first grown-up event, even though she was not allowed to dance. She wriggled in her chair, looking like a young eel who had been demurely clad in jaconet and had its hair put half-up to mark the occasion.
Once most were settled to await the first set, Mr Darcy spoke quietly to Elizabeth.
“I wished to dance the first with you, Miss Elizabeth, but propriety demands that I must, of course, dance with Mrs Hurst, and then Miss Bingley and your sister, since they are all my guests. Will you reserve the fourth set for me?”
She could not help but smile at him for all she was worth. He had wished to claim the first with her? How flattering! His warm response to her smile was flattering too. “I would be delighted, sir. Thank you. But the fourth will be the supper dances, I think.”
“Excellent. I will have someone easy to converse with while we eat. We can talk of books, perhaps.”
“In a ballroom, sir? I begin to think you have no sense of propriety!”
“I have too much for my own comfort, I assure you.” He bowed as the Master of Ceremonies approached.
Before Elizabeth had time to consider the significance of his words and the smile he bore, all those who intended to dance were shepherded away to be introduced to the notables in the company.
Many of the attendees were townspeople, with a sprinkling of parties such as theirs from the local gentry—the leaven in the dough, as Hugh had it, although she was not perfectly certain which, in his mind, was which.
One or two present were familiar. Dr Barrow secured Elizabeth’s opening sets and saved her from the embarrassment of decorating the wall instead of dancing.
They would be the most colourful couple on the floor, given her emerald green sari-dress and his scarlet robes, and every eye would be on them.
As she thanked the eccentric doctor for the honour, she glimpsed the Standleys across the other side of the room.
While she could have dispensed with Harriet Standley’s waspish company—Harriet and Miss Bingley were twinned in that regard—it was with increasing anticipation and joy that she faced the doctor for the opening sets.
Not even the smug glances the Bingley sisters sent her way as they danced the first two sets with Mr Darcy could put a dampener upon her enjoyment.
Allemande… fleuret… balancé and rigadon…
And the joys of the supper set to come. How she loved to dance!