Chapter 15 #3
“Perhaps we shall see you again, Mr. Darcy,” said the lady, as she sat back upon the bench.
A footman turned up the step, and the carriage lurched forward.
Georgiana, Mama, and I were walking from the direction of the carriage arch as it passed.
Through the front glass I saw two well-dressed ladies: one wearing a jaunty hat, similar to Georgiana’s; the other, a more practical matron’s cap, with a gathered crown and plain front brim edged with lace.
Oh, I was as bad as Kitty or Lydia, noticing such detail.
Of course, I was curious that the ladies were known to Darcy.
“Georgiana, you were unfortunate to miss them. Lady Augustus and her daughter, Miss Eustacia Augustus, who have come to take the Cumbrian air, were just departing as our carriage came up. Do you recall the lady—an acquaintance of Lady Matlock?”
“Lady Augustus? I’m not sure…” Georgiana paused. “Oh! I do remember her. Did not Aunt Susan wish to have you and—was it Miss Eustacia?—sit together? I recall you were a little impolite, and took a seat further down the table.”
Darcy coloured, then turned towards me. “You see, Miss Elizabeth, I am not the perfect gentleman. It was rude of me, of course, to leave the young lady. But beforehand, I had told Lady Matlock I particularly wished to sit with Richard, who was due to depart for the Peninsula. Prior to the dinner, he was obliged to spend his time at Horse Guards, and we had never contrived to meet before his departure.”
“Dear me, sir! I am fortunate indeed that the Colonel no longer sups with us. In light of this intelligence, I suspect you would ignore the ladies at the table and spend your time conversing with him to the exclusion of all others. For shame! You must certainly find his conversation more interesting than ours.”
“No, ma’am. You saw me quite garrulous yesterday evening. If I recall correctly, I spoke with you above three times, Mrs. Bennet at least twice, and Georgiana four times.”
I laughed. Oh, Darcy indeed had a dry humour.
Both he and Mr. Bennet would have enjoyed each other’s company.
We were still chuckling when Mr. Darcy senior returned from settling with the innkeeper and handed Mrs. Bennet into the carriage.
He then climbed in himself, avoiding the tangled legs and skirts which followed Georgiana and me as Darcy handed us up.
We settled ourselves. Then, with a quiet ‘Come up’, the landau moved forward, the clatter of the Cumberland Bays echoing off the cobblestones and walls of the yard.
“Was that Lady Augustus?” asked Mr. Darcy of his son. “I find I have little time for her society, and even less for her husband, Sir Henry.”
“Indeed, sir,” replied Darcy. “She and her daughter were at the inn, and now journey to Bowness.”
“I should explain, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, looking across to Mama and me.
“Sir Henry Augustus is a knight of little renown, apart from making long and tedious speeches in the Commons. His wife is an acquaintance of Lady Matlock, my sister-by-marriage. They have been conspiring for some time to get Fitzwilliam and Miss Eustacia together. Indeed, she is a comely girl, not deficient in manners, with a respectable dowry, and educated in a well-respected seminary… I have said enough—it is not for me to guide Fitzwilliam’s hand.
” He settled back, a smile creasing his lips.
Darcy appeared distinctly uncomfortable, and the conversation moved on.
Occasionally, whenever I glanced at him, he seemed in deep thought.
Perhaps meeting with Miss Eustacia Augustus had aroused thoughts that a man of his consequence must marry—certainly a woman from the upper echelons of society, with distinguished family connections.
His father appeared to approve of the match.
Her mother, an acquaintance of Lady Matlock, belonged to the highest circles of society.
I glanced at Mama, who returned my look.
We had grown so alike that I knew she was thinking the same as I was.
“Look!” I cried, breaking the silence, “curlews rising from the meadow.”
“Listen to their calling—what a strange bubbling sound. Please, Papa, can we stop the coach and watch them?”
We had decided to take a route to Windermere through the Lyth Valley, to the southwest of Kendal.
It was an excellent habitat for curlews, with its damp meadows and wetlands.
We watched them alight near a small tarn, wading through the water’s edge, their elegant, downward-curling beaks always ready to snap up any foolish worm, beetle, spider, or caterpillar which came within their reach.
Too soon, the wonderful day ended with our arrival at the Salutation Hotel. Mama and I retired to our room to change for dinner.
“Did you enjoy yourself, Mama?” I asked as I pinned her hair.
“Oh, Lizzy, I feel so guilty—for, truly, I cannot remember ever being in such pleasant company. George Darcy is so attentive; I feel like a young girl again.”
“Then our trip to the Lakes is just what you needed. There can be no guilt, Mama. You must learn some of my philosophy: think only of the day as its remembrance will give you pleasure on the morrow.”
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