Chapter 11
Eleven
Afternoon
Jane is here. She arrived somewhat later in the afternoon than I had expected looking weary, though she did her best to insist it had been a pleasant journey. An obvious untruth as the roads could only have got worse since I traveled them a little more than a week ago.
Since her arrival we have been ensconced in my sitting room gossiping merrily.
"And she is still set on marrying him?" I have asked this already, but it bears repeating.
"Yes, Lizzy," replied Jane with a patient smile.
"And you do not think I ought to tell her about the horrors that await her in married life?
" I am referring to the horrors of Charlotte's future married life in particular in this instance—having Lady Catherine for a neighbor—not more general horrors such as discovering the enormity of one's husband's weaponry.
Oh, God. Now I am thinking of Mr. Collins's bayonet and I want to vomit.
"She is not marrying Lady Catherine after all," Jane said reasonably. If only life were reasonable.
I snorted. "That is what Charlotte thinks now, but ask her after a few weeks of marriage. When you marry a man you marry his family, his friends, and all associated hangers-on and it is fully possible to end up spending more time with his relations than you ever spend with him."
Did that sound resentful? I think it may have sounded resentful. Jane looked at me with great concern then her eyes flicked over to Dora, thinking perhaps she might take offense at my comment.
I had quite forgotten Dora was there. Which is horrible since she, finding herself between beetles to illustrate at the moment, so kindly offered to help me with the invitations.
The invitations to the Twelfth Night ball that is really happening.
And I really am going to be the hostess.
And I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut with my sarcasm and my "good" ideas. Really.
My reluctance about this ball aside, it is less than four weeks away so the invitations need to go out immediately.
They just came back from the printer late this afternoon and now we have only to add each guest's name before we can begin sending them out tomorrow.
Which sounds simple enough until one realizes there are to be three hundred guests and the names have to be written legibly because people like to be able to read their own name apparently.
To my mind, if I gave you the invitation obviously it means I want you there.
Does it really matter if the invitation looks like it says, "Miss Marine Hughboob" instead of "Miss Marianne Highbrook"? I think not.
Jane and Dora disagree. Well, Jane disagreed and Dora was just sort of there.
Dora doesn't do opinions on anything non-insect related.
There is furniture in this house with more opinions than Dora, thus why I sometimes forget her presence.
Which is wrong of me. And not just because Dora does the most beautiful calligraphy.
Jane, clearly feeling we had been neglecting Dora in our conversation (and we certainly had, we had been going on about Mama and Meryton and Charlotte for half an hour at least), asked, "Are you enjoying being out, Dora?"
"Not really," said Dora matter-of-factly.
This frank reply discomposed my usually composed sister. "I am sure you will enjoy the season more as it progresses," she said soothingly.
Dora shook her head in disagreement though her expression remained perfectly cheerful."I see no reason to think so."
Jane struggled for something to say. I had not had time to warn her about Dora and the frustrating deficiency of her conversation.
It would probably be rude to announce, "Dora is odd and should be left to herself," so I let my poor, sweet sister struggle on, speaking pleasantries to a lady who had no appreciation for them.
If Dora appeared angry or annoyed Jane would not press her, but she wears a serene smile, very similar to the one Jane often wears, as if nothing bothers her and I do not think it does bother her, especially when she is not working on her own project.
Dora had worn that same serene expression earlier this afternoon when we were having our first proper at-home. Mr. Farthingham called, blessedly without the too charming Sir Sebastian Seymour in tow.
He exchanged all the expected niceties with me in the hurried, unenthusiastic manner of a child bid to eat every bite of his tripe and potatoes before having his sweet.
Minimal courtesy thus seen to, he settled into his true purpose of lavishing praise upon Dora as she put the finishing touches on her latest illustration.
"What beautiful work. It is most life-like," he commented as he peered over her shoulder.
Without sparing him a glance Dora said, "Yes, that is rather the point."
Though I admired her response, I braced for how Mr. Farthingham would take it, knowing most gentlemen would resent having their compliments so carelessly dismissed. To my astonishment he seemed completely charmed, smiling easily and seating himself in the chair nearest to her.
"You can do subjects beyond specimen illustration, I imagine," observed the undaunted Mr. Farthingham.
"I can, but I do not like to," was Dora's reply.
Mr. Farthingham sat there a quarter of an hour more, ignoring me as he plied Dora (who continued to ignore everyone) with flattery.
Despite his neglect of me I was quite pleased with him, for when Mrs. Hamilton called just a few minutes after his arrival his presence provided some excuse for Dora's lack of conversation which Mrs. Hamilton might have otherwise thought rude.
Instead of feeling slighted by Dora's lack of attention to her, Mrs. Hamilton approved her her performance. Nodding sagely at the couple she whispered, "Knows what she's doing that one. Always best to play coy at first. Gentlemen like the chase, you know."
Mrs. Hamilton, having recently fulfilled her life's purpose of seeing her only daughter well settled with a suitable husband, considered matchmaking her greatest talent and was now determined to see everyone else properly wed.
I knew this after only a few minutes conversation with her at Lady Truesdell's dinner where she pointed out every hint of flirtation between the guests and predicted the chances of martial felicity among the potential couples.
"Son of Lord Ware, you know. Second son, unfortunately.
Has an appointment of some kind with the government, cannot remember what at the moment.
Will have some monies settled on him from his mother's father, I understand.
Quite a comfortable situation. And such connections.
His mother is the grandniece of the Earl of Chesterton," said Mrs. Hamilton in an excited whisper.
I had noted the lady's abhorrence of full sentences the first time I spoke to her, so I was somewhat prepared for confusion, but all this information was pressed upon me so suddenly I did not at first know what to make of it.
Then I realized she was speaking of Mr. Farthingham, of course, and it was not idle gossip, it was something that I, as Dora's chaperon, should know.
After a furtive peek at the gentlemen in question to see if he had heard this concise assessment of him (he was still completely ensnared by Dora), I leaned towards Mrs. Hamilton entreatingly, the universal signal for "Tell me more."
"Cannot think his parents will be—oh, how to put this delicately?
—his parents may not be overjoyed at the prospect of a daughter-in-law so lacking in," Mrs. Hamilton paused, producing a theatrical sniff to display her distaste at uttering the very word, "money.
But the Darcy name, of course, is something. "
Well, many of those who bear the name are certainly something.
"And she is a beauty," my informant continued, "And when a young man is determined there is very little anyone can do about it."
I felt that I should point out that they had only met twice now and it would be rather precipitate to declare their marriage an unstoppable eventuality at this early juncture, however Mr. Farthingham's infatuation was obvious and offers of marriage were often made after an acquaintance of a few months or sometimes only a few weeks.
Mrs. Hamilton was right. Dora could soon expect an offer of marriage, especially if Mr. Farthingham considered her complete disregard of him encouraging. I held my silence.
"Very young indeed, you know. Not yet four and twenty. Perhaps too young to be settled, but he is the steady sort, though he associates with a wild crowd. Yet I do not think him wild, as I said, but I feel I should tell you."
I thanked her for her revelations because she seemed to expect it and her information was certainly helpful even if it had been communicated distressingly near the subject.
"Well done of you to steer her his way. Well done, indeed.
Some might say with her beauty, she might make a better match—perhaps not better connected, but more wealth.
Such fancies do not do at all. Even if such gentleman could be found and enticed, there is such a thing as marrying too far above oneself. "
With much mock gravity I said, "Yes, I can imagine."
Mrs. Hamilton pinkened at once and I knew her words had not been meant as an underhanded swipe, rather she had completely forgotten to whom she was speaking.
Which is rather wonderful as it means my scandalous marriage is already fading from memory.
Gossips' memories. For some reason I have not been able to forget it.
In an effort to show her I was not at all offended I complimented her dress.
I have no idea why as it was really a terrible dress, and the cut could not be said to flatter her figure at all but one has to say something and, "Goodness, you really put your foot in your mouth there," is really only something you say to close friends.