Chapter 3 #2
When she did not elaborate on their friendship, the visit, or even share her opinion of the house, Elizabeth said, “And have you known Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy as long as your brother has?”
“No.”
Elizabeth turned to look at Caroline, who shrugged and rose to get a cup of tea.
She tried again with Mrs Lanyon. “I am looking forward to joining Caroline and Louisa as we travel north with Jane and Charles. I understand that you and your brother and Mr Utterson also intend to be at Scarborough in September?”
“We do.” When Elizabeth shifted in her seat, Mrs Lanyon added, “Lewis and I will then go on to Haddingtonshire.”
“I thought I detected a hint of a Scottish voice, although it is more pronounced in Mr Balfour.” Elizabeth smiled.
“Yes”—Mrs Lanyon’s eyes flashed—“my father is a Lowland Scot, and I grew up in Scotland. I spend every autumn with my father and brother at Hyde House.”
Elizabeth could not understand her defensive tone, and tried a different course of conversation. “You pass most of your time in town, then?” A nod. “Were you educated there as well, as your brother was, rather than in Scotland?”
“I was.”
When she said nothing further, Elizabeth added, “I believe Caroline and Louisa were also educated in a seminary in town.” Mrs Lanyon only nodded. “I did not have the pleasure of such an education. I was not placed in a school, nor did I have a governess.”
Mrs Lanyon widened her eyes and tilted her head. “I am sure you were instructed to show yourself to advantage, the same as Miss Bingley,” she added with a tone of frustration.
Elizabeth sought for something pleasant to say. “I shall have to hope that my accomplishments pass muster amongst such fine examples as Miss Darcy, and Caroline and Louisa. I have not heard the former, but she is often praised in my hearing. Do you play or sing?”
“I play.”
When it was certain Mrs Lanyon would say nothing further, Mrs Annesley praised Miss Darcy, who they learnt played and sang all day long, and Elizabeth and Mrs Lanyon said everything that was appropriate. Mrs Lanyon is cold and has nothing to say beyond the most commonplace inquiry or remark.
Elizabeth parted from them, certain that Mrs Lanyon would not miss her, and returned to Jane and Caroline.
“Jane, when you are next in town,” Caroline said, “I think a Parisian mob cap of fine lace with a silver-grey ribbon would be more the thing.”
“I am happy with my cap. I think it rather similar to your turban, and yours is handsome,” Jane said.
Elizabeth was duly impressed with the way her sister managed Caroline, for the latter smiled smugly and patted Jane’s hand.
Jane had the patience and sweetness of temper to get on with anyone if she chose to.
Caroline then asked Elizabeth in a low voice, “How did you find Mrs Lanyon? Mrs Annesley is more genteel, is she not?”
Elizabeth had to agree. “For a woman of her age and situation, she has astonishingly little to say for herself.”
Caroline took a sip from her teacup and looked at Mrs Lanyon, who was now standing on the other side of the room with Miss Darcy and asking about the dormouse mentioned at dinner.
“She is familiar with dear Georgiana for someone so little acquainted with the Darcys.” Jane and Elizabeth exchanged a look.
Caroline would not dare call Miss Darcy ‘Georgiana’ in her own hearing.
Caroline shook her head. “She tries too hard; it is unseemly. Some might consider it a fair match, but I think it would be offensive for her to marry a second time.”
“Mrs Lanyon?” Jane asked. “Why?”
It was the words fair match that brought an unsettled feeling to Elizabeth’s stomach that she could not rightfully explain.
“Her first marriage was one of affection, they say. I see no reason for her to seek a second with Mr Darcy. It is not as though she is in narrow circumstances, and there are younger women who would have him, ones whose fortune did not come from India.”
Jane looked to Elizabeth, although whether it was from the idea of an alliance between Darcy and Mrs Lanyon, or Caroline’s forgetting where her own fortune came from, she could not say. Jane asked, “What would Mr Balfour say to the match?”
“Mr Balfour would not mind it—what man would not want his sister to marry his friend?—but what right has a widow to marry another eligible young man?”
“Has, has Mr Darcy distinguished her, that . . . that you have seen?” Elizabeth asked, looking at Mrs Lanyon and better understanding Caroline’s dislike of the stern widow.
Caroline shrugged. “I have seen no particular mark of attention, although they often ride together. A well-situated widow should abjure all second attachments. Still, I ought not to mention it.” Caroline checked the clock, likely awaiting the return of the gentlemen.
“A man of Mr Darcy’s situation and independence must marry, and a man of sense would prefer a .
. . a younger woman than Hester Lanyon.”
The door then opened, and as the men advanced, Caroline immediately rose to help Miss Darcy with the tea and coffee.
When this was done without any notice from Darcy, she offered to play, but this had an unintended result: whilst Caroline played on one side of the room, Darcy—rather than listen attentively—sat on the sofa in conversation with Mr Balfour and Mrs Lanyon about their father’s home and health.
Elizabeth might have spoken to Jane—if anyone could distract her from her confused thoughts, it would be she—but Bingley insisted that Jane join his conversation with Mr Utterson. Upon seeing Miss Darcy alone, Elizabeth took pains to know her.
“You have been praised by all of your friends and relations, I am afraid,” Elizabeth said, smiling. “It is an inauspicious start to our acquaintance, for how shall we fill the time? You cannot attempt to impress me if I already know all of your merits.”
Miss Darcy looked embarrassed. “I would never boast of my own talents.”
“No, you are too well bred for that, but good breeding does allow for aunts and brothers to boast on behalf of their beloved relation.”
“I suppose,” she said not unkindly.
“Lady Catherine once asked after your skill with the instrument in my presence, and your brother was quick with affectionate praise as, I suppose, all good brothers ought to be. I had no brother whilst growing up, so I can only guess if the practice is a common one.”
“Fitzwilliam is ever so good to me.”
Miss Darcy was not as quick to speak as her brother.
She was very unlike Darcy: embarrassed, not assured, and there was not a tincture of hauteur about her.
Elizabeth heard Darcy laugh at something Mr Balfour said; she turned to look in time to see him then ask a question of Mrs Lanyon.
He was going out of his way to include her in his conversation.
Darcy had the same noble bearing as she had previously seen from him, but he now had an easy manner.
Had it not been there before, or had I simply not seen it?
“I have been wanting to meet you.” Miss Darcy’s soft voice surprised her, and her face must have shown it because she added, “Fitzwilliam has spoken highly of you.”
Elizabeth had to suppose that any mention of her stopped after April. “Well, I guess if a man is particularly well bred, then he is allowed to extend his praises beyond his sister and to the sisters of his friends’ wives.”
Miss Darcy tilted her head in confusion. “He wrote and spoke of you specifically, and before your sister married Mr Bingley.”
He cannot have spoken so since. “I am not insensible to such a compliment from Mr Darcy, but”—she forced a wide smile—“we must not waste our time discussing what others have said of us when we finally have the chance to find out for ourselves if we have been lied to.”
Miss Darcy gave a little laugh. “I see what he meant now. I think he admires your liveliness.”
“We shall be superlatively stupid if we cannot find something of substance to talk of! Are you often at Pemberley?”
“Every summer except for—I . . . am down for the summer months.”
Their eyes met, and Elizabeth saw all the shame and grief Miss Darcy was feeling. I wonder if she knows what her brother told me. Regardless if Miss Darcy was aware that she knew the extent of Wickham’s actions against her, she had to put the modest girl at her ease again.
“If you are not often at Pemberley, you cannot want to have all of these guests occupy your house.”
“It is my brother’s house,” she said plainly.
Elizabeth looked towards the sofa and saw Darcy watching them with a gentle smile on his face that she had seen him give her before.
“I refuse to believe that Mr Darcy does not consider Pemberley your home. Tell me that he does not do all that he can to make you feel as much at home here as you felt when this was your father’s house. ”
She turned pink and nodded. “He had a sitting room that I took a liking to at Christmas fitted up in a lighter style I prefer.”
“There! It is proved. Whatever can give you any pleasure is sure to be done, and he wishes for Pemberley to be your home.”
“Yes,” she agreed pleasantly. Elizabeth felt pity for a shy girl of sixteen who hardly felt at home in her own house and who now must share it with guests.
“I suppose, with your temperament, you cannot like to have so many people here,” Elizabeth said gently. “Friends or strangers, you must still always be dressing to appear in company or come into a room in a dishabille, or be as a prisoner in your own chamber to avoid us.”
Rather than laugh, Miss Darcy said only, “My brother is fond of good company.”
“He has not forced you to remain with us this evening, has he?”
“Oh no!” she cried. “He would never.” After a pause, during which it was clear Miss Darcy was deciding whether or not to speak, she said, “In fact, yesterday he said that whenever I found the company tiresome, I was to mount my horse and be gone.”