22
Next morning, Elizabeth felt again the need for solitude. Her services were not required by Justina, who had gone shopping with the Darcys. Lord Selborn and Edmund Lindale were attending a meeting on the vexed issue of Jewish rights. So Elizabeth passed an hour writing letters to Jane and Mary, then moved to the morning room to continue studying German.
A master had lent her a grammar book containing table after table of what he called Deklinationen, or what she called needless complexity. The first chapter explained that where an English speaker was content to use the word the, a German had to choose among der, die, das, den, dem, and des, depending on number, gender, and something called ‘case’. Even worse were adjective endings, which depended on all these factors plus an extra one . The master had presented these rules proudly as if they constituted evidence of superior culture, but could give no rationale except that they allowed more freedom in ordering phrases—which in Elizabeth’s opinion was insufficient compensation.
She had defended this stance at the Pichler salon, during a lively argument with Count Rietberg, and decided now to practise what she preached by ignoring grammar and focussing on vocabulary—words for useful things like food, dress, weather, and social rituals.
Elizabeth was busy making lists when Lady Selborn entered, took a seat on the divan, and suggested coffee.
‘Shall I call a maid?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘I don’t want to disturb your studies.’
‘No matter.’ She discharged this duty, then sat opposite Lady Selborn. ‘Another grey day.’
‘No rain, at least.’ A pause. ‘I have been hoping to speak with you, Elizabeth.’
She shivered, wondering what was coming. ‘Yes?’
‘Lord Selborn and I were somewhat surprised that you danced twice with Count Rietberg at the ball.’
‘I was surprised to dance at all.’
‘I hope you understand that Vienna is very free in these things. People fall in love once a week. Affairs are pursued openly and nobody protests. A lady with several lovers is even admired.’
‘The count took trouble to teach me the steps of a folk dance, and I thought it polite to agree to a second attempt. He was also agreeable company.’ She smiled. ‘I realised he was not seriously interested in me.’
‘But what of the effect on Mr Lindale? I noticed he took you to the balcony for what looked like a serious conversation.’
‘A scolding you mean?’ Elizabeth laughed. ‘Perhaps it was what I deserved, but his purpose was the opposite.’
‘Oh.’ A satisfied smile. ‘In that case, congratulations. I am delighted.’
The maid arrived with a tray, and after she left Elizabeth replied quietly, ‘I asked time to reflect.’
‘You were taken by surprise?’
‘No. Still, one can never be certain what is in another person’s mind, and I was confused over how to reply.’ She sighed. ‘I still am, for that matter.’
‘From a practical perspective this is surely a wonderful opportunity, is it not? Men of Mr Lindale’s talent and good character are rare. Were you hoping to marry a gentleman of the haut ton?’
‘I hardly expected to marry anyone, given what has happened to my family.’
‘Is there a financial difficulty?’
‘Mr Lindale explained his prospects honestly, and I have little doubt he will succeed in his ambitions. So I’m not sure why I hesitate. I suppose it comes down to emotion. I ought to feel overjoyed. Yet I am not.’
Lady Selborn thought awhile, sipping coffee. ‘These are of course momentous decisions. One is choosing a lifelong companion. But if I may be allowed an observation, I have found you charming together. The conversation is lively. You are entertained. You disagree without quarrelling. You display respect and affection. In fact, it is rare to witness any married couple so well suited.’
Elizabeth spread her hands. ‘All of this is true.’
‘You desire, perhaps, an emotion so overwhelming that it sweeps away all uncertainty. A love such as one reads of in a romantic novel. But experience teaches that such feelings are ephemeral and often misleading.’
‘One can feel certain and yet err?’ Elizabeth recalled her former opinion of Darcy. ‘I would have to agree. It is kind of you to concern yourself with my welfare.’
‘I hope another viewpoint can be helpful.’ Lady Selborn paused. ‘But I have no interest in guiding you towards matrimony. On purely selfish grounds I would prefer to keep you as a valued member of the household. In fact …’ She looked away a moment. ‘If required to imagine the perfect companion for Justina, I would nominate a young lady like you, who admires her, entertains her—and can stand up to her.’
Elizabeth considered. ‘You wanted someone to steady her. I’m not sure I ever achieved that.’
‘If only you knew! My daughter has always sparkled, but she had attacks of melancholy too, when she would lose confidence, doubt her talent, fear that other people hated her. It has been of inestimable value for her to have a close friend who is always frank.’
‘We would remain friends, I hope.’
‘Yes, but that is not the same as having someone always to hand.’ Lady Selborn lowered her voice. ‘In confidence, this is one reason I hope for an offer from Mr Darcy. Like you he enjoys and appreciates her; like you, he can be firm. Yes, she might make a more brilliant match—a count perhaps or a prince: we meet enough of them through my husband’s work. But kindness, honesty, intelligence, steadiness, are not attributes found in the average aristocrat.’
Elizabeth felt a twinge of unease at this portrait. Its veracity she could not deny. Darcy was all these things; also handsome, humorous, interesting company. Untitled, yes, but wealthy. Perhaps Lady Selborn was right and he would make a perfect husband for Justina.
And yet an irritating voice in her head insisted that this could not be true. Darcy was flawed. He had to be flawed, else …
Else she had been the greatest idiot that ever lived, for rejecting him.
She shivered, and to hide her distress pleaded a headache and went to her room.