Chapter 10 #2
Oh, no. Lady Catherine and Mrs. Vane are arguing again.
Or rather Lady Catherine is arguing. Mrs. Vane will not indulge her in an argument so she just goes on a defensive monologue as if someone were arguing with her whilst Mrs. Vane smirks.
It is all very masterful on Mrs. Vane's part if she is trying to make Lady Catherine look like an insane person, but we all must still unfortunately listen to Lady Catherine rant.
Or perhaps not listen, rather we must go through the effort of tuning out her incessant droning.
I am so glad Lady Catherine is not staying with us.
She has her own house in town, though she rarely stays in it.
For which I am certain all the occupants of town are deeply grateful.
I hope the servants in her London house have been lax and there is dust .
. . and spiders. I usually do not wish spiders on anyone but she deserves them.
"—though I think it is ludicrous to believe a mere dinner will solve anything. An error of this proportion . . . .What Darcy could have been thinking I will never know—"
Big ones.
"One only has to look at her to see the evidence of her low breeding. No, no I do not think anything can be done, as sad as I am for my nephew, I think we must face facts—she needs to be hidden away not brought out into good society."
Giant spiders that crawl in her mouth while she sleeps.
I could silence her quite easily. I could have her thrown from the house.
Darcy did tell her only yesterday I was not to be insulted.
I do not think he would mind terribly if I behaved rudely to her given the provocation, however it is almost enjoyable to watch her become flustered.
Especially when Rebecca and Mrs. Vane continue their conversation as if she has not spoken at all.
"If we are going to do centerpieces at all they should be short. There is nothing worse than those absurdly large flower arrangements. One cannot even see the person opposite them at the table," said Rebecca.
Mrs. Vane replied scathingly, "Guests are not meant to talk across the table."
"Of course not, but one likes to see. Besides servants knock centerpieces over while serving."
"Not my servants," said Mrs. Vane, apparently forgetting the fact that these are my servants we are discussing. My servants who admittedly are terrified of Mrs. Vane and probably would not knock over centerpieces no matter how absurdly large they were.
"—and Lady Anne agrees with me," Lady Catherine said finishing her speech grandly as if she had an audience.
I forgot to mention that Darcy's mother is here as well.
Like the typical dreaded mother-in-law she hates me.
Unlike the typical dreaded mother-in-law her presence is incorporeal.
She is sitting next to me. In spirit. Or at least I think she is because Lady Catherine keeps referring to her sister as if she were present and then glancing at the empty chair beside me.
So Lady Anne is there. Or Lady Catherine is mad. Either one.
"Elizabeth, what is your opinion?"
Rebecca is so adorable. She thinks I get an opinion.
"I do not think a dinner party will be enough to make people forget my villainy. I think we need a ball. A grand one," I said facetiously.
Rebecca squealed delightedly. "I love a ball. Oh, do lets have a ball, please," she begged turning to Mrs. Vane.
Mrs. Vane pretended to consider. I say pretended because I know she will not consent. Alliance or no, crushing Rebecca's hopes will be too tempting to her. Also a ball is a terrible idea.
"I think you are right, yes. A bold maneuver. That is what we need."
What have I done? Of all the moments for Mrs. Vane to suddenly start agreeing with me.
Rebecca turned to an unmarked sheet in her notebook and began to scribble excitedly. "We will need to select musicians immediately. And contact the hothouses to see what flowers are available. What day are we thinking?"
And then they are off, debating dates and flowers and refreshments and everything else. Lady Catherine, despite thinking I should be locked away in an attic somewhere (and Lady Anne quite agreeing with her) begins planning her own ball as well. I guess she just cannot help herself.
"What is going on?" Darcy whispered as he dropped suddenly into the chair next to me. I wonder if I should tell him he is sitting on his mother? No one else marked his entrance. They were all too involved in their plans.
"We are to have a ball, apparently."
"Indeed, how nice. I love a ball." Unlike Rebecca I know when someone is being facetious.
"Why are we giving a ball exactly?" he asked.
"Have you heard the latest?"
"Yes, not yet a week wed and you've already given me horns," he said teasingly. And then he smiled at me. Almost fondly. It is very disconcerting.
"It has been a week."
"Has it?"
"The wedding was on a Tuesday this is Wednesday."
"So it is," he said airily. Most unDarcy-like.
"I think the idea is to make people like me by providing them food and festivities."
Darcy nodded. "Whatever my feelings regarding balls, it is an idea with some merit."
"Is it?"
"Most people enjoy such entertainments and are loath to turn down any invitation. To attend a ball is to give—not precisely approval of its hostess—but it does demonstrate that the guests do not think her reputation so dangerous that it may affect their own by association."
"So you think we should give a ball?"
Darcy shrugged. "We must give one at some point, I suppose. There is no reason it should not be soon."
"It should be a Twelfth Night ball. A masquerade. Not just a masquerade, a fancy-dress masquerade. You can wear your horns and I am sure I can find some costume befitting my adulterous shame," I said in jest, though I was warming to the idea of a ball.
Darcy gave me an indulgent smile in reply. I do not think we have been married long enough for him to be giving me such smiles. The "Oh, yes she is quite mad, isn't she? But I put up with it valiantly," sort of smile. The kind of smile Papa wears when listening to Mama's nonsense.
"I am serious now, not about the horns, of course, but about a fancy dress ball, what would you dress as?"
"Whatever you found for me."
"Come now, you cannot be so indifferent."
"I dislike balls in general, fancy dress balls in particular; I find it difficult to rouse the proper enthusiasm."
Really, this is worse than hating chocolate and kittens.
"Do you like kittens?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His expression shifted to one of understandable confusion.
"Fitzwilliam!" "Darcy!"
Of course, his aunts would choose this moment to notice his presence. This is how I came to be eight days wed to a man and still unsure if he hates kittens or not.
"Present," Darcy said, nodding a sort of general greeting.
"We are planning a ball," said Rebecca excitedly.
"I have heard."
"We have not yet set a date," she continued.
"It will be the on the fifth of January. Elizabeth wants a Twelfth Night masquerade," Darcy said as if that settled the matter. Which of course it did.