Chapter 10
Ten
Afternoon
"So we are thinking forty people?" asked Rebecca, her hand hovering over the little notebook propped precariously on her bump, pen inked and at the ready.
"No, no, much smaller, much more intimate. Twelve guests. It must be exclusive," replied Mrs. Vane. She was paging through her own notebook, its cover worn at the edges, still guarding the secrets of her glory days of entertaining.
Discovering the page for which she sought, she said, "Ah, here it is, the menu from my most magnificent dinner party.
I gave it in spring so a few courses will have to be altered a little, but I think it will work nicely.
We will have to find additional kitchen staff of course, but that should not be a problem this time of year. "
"Extra staff? For just twelve guests?" Rebecca asked disbelievingly.
Mrs. Vane leaned across the divan, bridging the space between herself and her sister-in-law, she placed her notebook atop Rebecca's allowing her to peruse what I must assume was a very complicated menu, for after a moment Rebecca whispered a very stunned, "Oh."
"It was worth it. People talked about it for years," said Mrs. Vane impressively.
"Years?"
"Years," Mrs. Vane repeated with pride.
It is perhaps surprising that Mrs. Vane, who previously showed only disdain for Rebecca, is now sitting quite contentedly next to her planning a dinner party—a dinner party I will apparently be the hostess of—not directing a single catty quip her way . . . or my way which is beyond disconcerting.
This sudden lack of viciousness is better understood when one realizes Mrs. Vane is conserving her malicious energy for Lady Catherine.
Lady Catherine who is sitting in the chair Rebecca may or may not have peed on yesterday (I forgot to mention it to the housekeeper so it was probably not cleaned with any special attention) also planning a dinner party I will be the hostess of.
A different dinner party. It happens to be scheduled for the same day, but that is all it has in common with Rebecca and Mrs. Vane's—excuse me—my dinner party.
Lady Catherine did not bring a little notebook.
Inexcusably ill-prepared, she is. Even I have a little notebook.
Mrs. Vane gave it to me when I arrived and I have written nothing in it, but still.
I have one. Lady Catherine, it would seem, does not need one as she is doing her planning aloud.
In other words, she is talking to herself. No one is listening to her anymore.
I am also in the drawing room, sitting in a chair I am fairly certain has not been urinated on recently.
I am not planning a dinner party I will be hostess of.
Even if I had any desire to have a dinner party in the immediate future, I know there is no point in planning one as in a few minutes it will be something else.
A musicale. A ball. A picnic with games on the lawn.
Fine, probably not the last one (though I doubt Mrs. Vane would allow a small thing like the weather to stand in her way).
But at the beginning of this session we (they) were planning a casual card party.
Now it is an elaborate dinner party. It is escalating. Lord have mercy.
Rebecca, finishing her examination of Mrs. Vane's menu, handed the notebook back to her and said, "I think this is mostly perfect, but for the dessert course we should order out."
"Order out?" cried Mrs. Vane in a tone of greater outrage than anyone should have concerning dessert. Especially since, according to Belinda, pudding at the Vane house had been rubbish anyway.
Mrs. Vane continued, shaking her head, "I know some people order from a confectionery but I've always thought it is better to show that your own servants are capable of delicacies.
It makes everyone envious thinking you dine so lavishly all the time.
After I served this dinner, Lady Rafferty tried to poach my cook. "
"I did not mean just any confectionery. I meant ices, from Gunter's."
"Ices," repeated Mrs. Vane as if the concept was a revolutionary stroke of genius.
"Mrs. Harwick did it."
"Really?" asked Mrs. Vane. I have no idea who Mrs. Harwick is but apparently she is Someone.
"Raspberry mint," confirmed Rebecca.
Mrs. Vane looked wistful, no doubt thinking of all the dinner invitations she had turned down these last few years. Recovering her authority she said,"We would have to have more. Three flavors at least. Choices."
"Obviously," agreed Rebecca with a single solemn nod that made her curls dance merrily. Her pen scratched audibly as it recorded the details.
They are going to talk about centerpieces next. I just know it.
"Now for the entertainment—"
Well, I was wrong. I felt certain it would be centerpieces.
"After such a dinner we need something more elegant than simply playing cards."
"Music. A professional. A stringed quartet and perhaps a singer from the opera. Whoever is the latest craze."
Rebecca nodded, still recording.
"And for the centerpieces—" Lady Catherine said, her voice suddenly rising over the others. Ha. I was right about the centerpieces after all. I am so good at this game.
Mrs. Vane and Rebecca fell silent for a moment, glancing at Lady Catherine with the sort of curious pity one might spare for a begger on the street. In unison they turned back to each other.
"It is a pity Georgiana is not out so she could play. She is as good as any professional, it would be a wonderful chance to display," said Rebecca.
"I think it is best that she will not come out for another season.
It would be best for her if everyone forgot Fitzwilliam has a sister for the time being.
This scandal can only tarnish her by association.
One must feel sorry for Dorothea coming out at such a time, but then her chances of a superior match were never good anyway considering her lack of fortune. "
"I still do not think anyone will believe this newest gossip. It is too ridiculous."
Mrs. Vane gave Rebecca a look that said such naivete was what was actually too ridiculous. "They will believe the worst whatever it is. No matter whom it harms. Bored cows—wretched gossips," she added muttering vehemently to herself.
Rebecca patted her hand comfortingly. In honor of their newly formed alliance Mrs. Vane did not cringe at the gesture. Not noticeably at least.
The gossip to which they refer—the reason behind this sudden dinner party—is from Lady Whisperton's Society Papers.
I once again have the honor of being mentioned there.
Just two little lines at the end of a long list of inconsequential detritus about who made what faux pas and whose husband winked at which widow.
Saving the most devastating for last I suppose was Lady Whisperton's intention.
The pertinent lines read: Many were shocked, I know, to see how the new Mrs. D.
flirted so shamelessly with a certain young man of questionable reputation at Lady T.
's dinner party. How appalled will they be when they learn she met with that same gentleman in the shades of Hyde Park that very morning?
That I met with Sir Sebastian Seymour in Hyde Park is of course true, but what is implied by Lady Whisperton—what everyone will assume—is so terrible and unfair I start seething at the thought of it.
The gossip sheet, which was distributed just this morning, is the reason behind this meeting.
Mrs. Vane believes the gossip will be best mitigated by me throwing some sort of party.
Her logic behind this belief I do not understand and I find it especially surprising considering her response to the malicious gossip in her own life was to go into hiding.
But it would seem Rebecca and Lady Catherine agree with her.
And thus this planning meeting. Rebecca, I believe, Mrs. Vane invited.
Lady Catherine just showed up. I think she had not had enough time to properly insult me yesterday so she came back hoping to find Darcy out and me unprotected.
What she discovered upon arrival must have been a great delight to her.
Not only was Darcy out, but Rebecca and Mrs. Vane were in the midst of discussing the gossip sheet, and seeing no way to hide it from her (and there was really no point anyway as it will be all over town within the day) they revealed the horrible tripe.
To have her opinion of me so quickly vindicated was enough to make her smile but to have the added joy of of planning a party sent her into raptures.
Well, at least someone is happy.
Really Rebecca and Mrs. Vane seem quite pleased too.
So I suppose it is just me who is unhappy.
And probably Darcy once he hears the gossip.
I wonder where he is. At Mr. Bingley's probably.
Does he have other friends? Or perhaps he is at his club.
Which club? Boodle's surely. Or is his blood blue enough for White's?
And what sort of wife am I that I still do not even know? Oh, yes, the accidental sort.
These are not the most pertinent questions anyway.
What I should be trying to discern is who told this Lady Whisperton I met with Sir Sebastian in the park.
Not Mr. Farthingham. He does not seem the sort to gossip.
Or talk to anyone about anything other than birds.
If only it were insects Dora might find him more interesting.
Perhaps Sir Sebastian mentioned it to someone else. But why? Did he not realize how such information might be construed? Perhaps he did not care. According to Darcy he has already been responsible for sullying the reputation of one married lady.