Chapter 5 #3
Yes, an absolutely lovely person.
Fine. I perhaps deserved this less-than-affectionate greeting after last night's debacle.
But he had been kind to me during my self inflicted illness and I had hoped we would continue being kind to each other today.
Apparently not. The man was a fortress indeed.
And crowning his walls were iron spikes.
"What could have possibly taken you away from your charming bride so early this morning?" Rebecca chided playfully almost as soon as Darcy had sat down.
In his usual succinct fashion Darcy replied, "I had things I needed to do."
Wonderfully vague. I suppose I could take heart in the knowledge he did not leave to idle about.
Either Rebecca understood the futility of pressing Darcy or she was too eager to move to the subject she was most desirous to speak of to bother, for she allowed this paltry explanation to pass without comment.
Positively vibrating with joy, she said, "Well, I am so glad you have arrived.
It would be better perhaps to wait until a time Georgiana—and Constance, of course, are here, but I can barely contain my excitement.
It has been so difficult to keep it just amongst James and me all these weeks.
She paused to draw a deep breath, heightening the suspense. "Though I am certain you cannot yet tell, I am enceinte."
"Indeed?" my husband asked his tone infused with just the correct amount of incredulity. He kept his countenance perfectly. I, however, could not do so. I was forced to bite the insides of my mouth to keep from laughing. Oh goodness, did she really believe no one could tell?
"I have surprised you! You see, James, I told you no one could tell. You only notice now because I told you. You did not suspect?" she asked turning her attention back to Darcy.
"Not at all."
No one should be able to lie so confidently.
She looked to me and I managed what I hoped was an encouraging smile.
"I thought I might be too old to have children—such a wonderful surprise. James and I are so pleased."
The look on her husband's face suggested his feelings might be slightly less than pleased. In fact, the poor man looked queasy. Noticing my interest, he schooled his expression into something almost like elation.
Rebecca's further effusions were interrupted by a racket in the hall. A moment later a dog burst into the room, tiny legs carrying its over-plump body with astonishing alacrity as it yapped wildly.
"Sir Seb!" Rebecca cried in greeting to the mongrel, which only made it bark all the more excitedly. My husband plucked a biscuit from the tea tray and lobbed it at the dog. It fell instantly silent.
The butler arrived on the heels of the corpulent canine looking thoroughly discomposed.
"Mrs. Margaret Darcy and Miss Dorothea Darcy," he announced with as much decorum as he could manage.
"Ahem," prompted a voice from the entryway.
With great reluctance he added, "And Sir Sebastian Shivershanks." The butler shuddered delicately. Clearly it was beneath his dignity to announce a dog be he a baronet or not.
Two ladies entered, one very young and one very elderly indeed.
Apparently having forgotten she was no longer her companion, Rebecca sprang forward grasping the elder lady's arm and attempting to guide her to a chair.
The lady wrenched herself away, finishing the trek across the room on her own.
"Child, I am old, not an invalid. How many times must I tell you this? If anyone needs help finding a chair, it's Dora. Goodness, someone grab her before she strolls out the window."
Dora Darcy was the superior of my husband it would seem. He might be able to read in a moving carriage, but she could read whilst walking. Not in a straight line, mind you, but walking all the same.
"Dora!" shouted the venerable Aunt Margaret.
The girl startled, nearly dropping her book, she looked about rapidly as if she had just woken.
"Come here, girl. Fitzwilliam is going to introduce us to his wife."
"Why? We both know she must be that lady there. And she knows who we are, for Saunders just announced us," said Dora with much exasperation.
"Yes, dear, but it is one of those niceties that must be observed no matter how little sense it makes."
The girl sighed, but obeyed. Introductions were made. All the 'How do you dos' and 'So lovely to make your acquaintances' were said at the proper times. The world remained nice if not altogether sensible.
When we were all seated and fresh tea called for (and an additional hush biscuit paid to Sir Sebastian's account), Aunt Margaret fished from her reticule a lorgnette which she held up to her eyes. She peered at me, reviewing my face with great scrutiny.
"Hmmm. Well, now stand up, girl, let me look at you," she commanded.
I found myself once again standing. I was a little disappointed by my own docility, but I wanted to show my husband I could be ever so proper. And Margaret Darcy is kind of person you listen to without question.
"Hmmm. A bit bony, but otherwise almost pretty. I suppose, Fitzwilliam, we can make out that you are that sort of fool. Overwhelmed by base desires—that is the kind of rot everyone wants to hear. That nonsense about accidentally ripping her bodice will never be believed. Turn."
I turned.
"Slowly."
I slowed.
"Hmmmmmmm."
I could not help it, it was all too ridiculous, a smile tugged at my lips.
"Why on earth are you smiling like that, child?"
I had really no intention of putting on my mad, toothy grin, but Darcys bring out the worst in me.
"I thought you might like to inspect my teeth as well. I know there is a certain proverb instructing one not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I do have good teeth and they should not be missed when making an audit of my better qualities."
"You are sharp," said the old lady, her tone was, to my relief, admiring rather than accusatory.
"I am. I find it much more amusing than being dull, though one does have to speak with care as not to cut oneself."
"For all your care, I daresay you've wounded yourself a time or two."
"Oh, yes, direly," I replied with a laugh.
"Hmmmm. Your looks improve with animation. I can now see how a man might find you tempting enough to ignore all expectations and defy every stricture of decorum," with a look to my husband she added, "Yes, I see it now, she is actually quite pretty."
Darcy said nothing. A wry smile came to his lips, but then was gone as quickly as it had appeared lest people start to think he was a man with thoughts and reactions rather than a statue.
"It pleases me, ma'am, to hear you say so for, though my looks I have previously earned the honor of being tolerable enough, I have it on great authority that I am not at all tempting," I said.
I sneaked another glance at Darcy. Disappointingly he had no reaction. Not even a fleeting one. He either did not recognize his own words or felt no contrition for having been overheard.
"Sit, girl," commanded Margaret, "Why are you standing? I'll get a neck ache looking up at you."
Apparently my inspection was complete. I sat.
"Aunt—Dorothea, so good to see you," said Mrs. Vane as she glided imperiously into the room.
If anyone could be said to walk imperiously it was her.
"Why was I not informed of your arrival?
" This was spoken to me. Before I could make any answer, her attention shifted.
"Ah, James, you are here as well . . . and your wife. How lovely."
Sir Sebastian began barking madly again. He hopped down from Margaret's lap and appeared fully prepared to tear at Mrs.Vane’s skirts. Unthinkingly, I scooped him up into my arms.
Everyone gasped (excepting Dora who was once again enthralled by her book) then, when whatever tragedy they were anxious of failed to occur, released a collective breath (Dora turned a page).
"He is generally a sweet dog," said Rebecca in answer to my curious glance, "But sometimes he takes a little nibble of someone when he is surprised."
Ah. So they had expected the dog to rip my face off.
Sir Sebastian did not seem inclined to maul me. He wagged his little nub of a tail and looked up at me with his great big adorable eyes which seemed to ask, "Who are you and what will you feed me?"
"Good, he likes you," Margaret said, nodding approvingly. "That will make everything so much easier when I leave him with you."
"Pardon?" Darcy and I said simultaneously.
"Mrs. Bythesea has asked me to visit her, she is very likely dying and I must go to her.
The problem is she cannot abide dogs. Cat person, I am afraid.
Despite that deficiency she has been my dear friend these sixty years and I really must see her before the end.
So I will be leaving Sebby and Dora here with you today—"
"Today?" My husband and I burst out again.
"Yes, today. I must start out immediately if I am to make it in time to see Susan.
I could take Dora with me I suppose, but it is no place for a young lady.
She is nineteen. I really ought to have insisted she make her come out last year, but she had no inclination and I fear I do not get out much in society these days. "
Margaret paused to sigh.
"The poor girl is becoming strange. Last week she got a monstrous beetle in the post. It was dead, thank the Lord, in a little glass box with pins all through it. She was pleased as anything with it."
Without looking up from her book Dora said in the flat tone of one much put upon, "It was a prime example of a Nebria Lividia . I needed to illustrate it for Mr. Bartlett's encyclopedia."
"The girl spends all her time sketching insects.
It is high time a husband is found for her—before people start calling her eccentric.
This would be the perfect opportunity to take her about since Elizabeth must be introduced to everyone anyway.
And at this time of year, before the season has really begun, it should be less overwhelming for her.
Yes, yes it will work out wonderfully. Elizabeth can be her chaperon—a much better option than having some frightening old woman toting her about.
Shockingly, some people find me intimidating. "
Her words made me break out in a cold sweat all over. "Me? Be her chaperon? As you said, I will have to be introduced around, I have no acquaintance in town and I would not know—I have no idea—truly there must be someone else."
I looked to my husband pleadingly.
"I must concur, Elizabeth would make a most unsuitable chaperon," said Darcy.
I tried not to be offended at his words. They were exactly what I had been thinking. But really! He had the most insulting way of putting things.
Rebecca saw the hurt cross my features before I could hide it. Cautiously she said, "Though I am sure Elizabeth would be perfectly splendid, would it not be better for me to chaperon Dora?"
"Rebecca, dear child, you are set to whelp any day now, you cannot be taking Dora hither and tither," replied Margaret.
Rebecca's hand flew to her abdomen. "You know? That I am enceinte?"
Mrs. Vane snorted. Margaret cast a glare at her niece.
"Everyone knows, child."
"Everyone?" Rebecca looked entreatingly to James. He reluctantly nodded.
"Oh."
"So you see, it must be Elizabeth," finished Margaret.
"I ought to be the one to chaperon Dora." Mrs. Vane appeared rather put out at having been overlooked.
"Indeed, you ought to be," agreed Margaret cheerfully, "You would be required to face the ton, however. Are you prepared to do so?"
"I—I—oh," Mrs. Vane sputtered. If I had not seen it with my own eyes I never would have believed her capable of anything so indelicate as sputtering. Even more remarkably, she followed up this indecorous display by muttering indistinctly. Then, in high dudgeon, she quit the room.
Margaret sighed. "I know it is not the done thing to wish someone dead, but I do think it would have been better for Constance if Henry Vane were definitely dead rather than having all this uncertainty.
If he has done away with himself, as the gossips seem to think he has, it would have been much more considerate of him to have hanged himself or poisoned himself—none of this throwing himself into the river nonsense—and he ought to have left a note.
Then he never was a considerate man. Terrible mistake for her to have married him for all his charm.
"Yet, you see, if his body had turned up, at least then she might be certain the shame was all over.
As it is he might turn up alive at anytime and heap embarrassment on her all over again.
I suppose a body might be found. One that appears enough like Henry to claim it.
I know where bodies can be had if one really needs one. "
"That does not surprise me at all, Aunt," said James.
"But it would be so like him to turn up alive right after we went through the trouble of getting him declared dead."
Menacingly James said, "I should like to hunt him down. Produce a body that matches exactly."
"James, really," scolded his wife.
My husband, ever the voice of reason, said, "Before any corpses are fetched or made, I think we ought to return to the previous subject."
"Quite right, I need to be leaving soon if I am to start today. I do not expect to be gone for much more than a month. Susan doesn't have long, poor lady. Dora will be no trouble. You might even have her married off by then. You are quite the expert at catching husbands it would seem.
I am not too refined to sputter and I did so at this juncture, "I—you—I."
"It is all right. I think it very clever of you to have caught Fitzwilliam. And Dora will need your unorthodox methods if I am ever to get her off my hands."
Margaret dramatically sighed once more.
"Now Sebby there" she said, indicating with a nod of her head the dog who was still sitting happily in my lap, "his behavior I cannot vouch for, I fear.
You must attend to his walks yourself. Servants cannot be trusted with him, he is too cunning and will slip his lead.
I am terribly sorry to leave him behind, but it must be done. "
Again I turned my pleading gaze to my husband. He must say something. This situation was all too absurd, surely he would not stand for it.
"We would of course be honored to have Dorothea—and Sir Sebastian—stay with us."
That was not at all what I wanted him to say.