Chapter 2 #2
To Miss Bennet, Bramwell said, “I should have known he would remember what I have forgot. It is difficult not to fall into despair at my inadequacies when I am forced to spend so much time with him.”
She giggled, and Darcy decided to have a word with him about flirting with the girl. It might give her ideas.
“County Wicklow,” Mrs Ryde said. “It was easy enough for us to travel there so that I might spend time in my childhood home and see my relations. And so that Lizzy could explore another part of Ireland beyond Dublin.” She patted Miss Bennet’s hand, and once again, her expression suggested she cared for her.
Darcy wondered how long she had employed the young woman.
“It was wonderful,” Miss Bennet said. “Despite the time of year, which you so often mentioned as taking away its beauty, it still exceeded my expectations, which I promise you, were very high indeed.”
Again, Darcy was struck by her tone. Perhaps it was a matter of her demeanour as well as her voice. It seemed…cheerful—but not as though it was simply the mood of a moment. Rather, it was one that was fundamental to her, ingrained in her character. Liveliness. That is the word I was searching for.
Shaking off his private reflections, he realised the others were speaking of Dublin and London. Given Miss Bennet was looking at Bramwell as she next spoke, he concluded his cousin had asked her what she thought of the two cities.
“I do not know that I can make a reasonable comparison between them. Most of my time in London was when I was younger.”
“Do you have family in town?” his cousin said.
“I do. My aunt and uncle live near Cheapside, in Gracechurch Street. I have visited them upon occasion, but usually for just a day or two, when my father needed to be in London and brought me with him.”
Darcy revised his impression of Miss Bennet as a gentlewoman; how could she be if her relations lived in the city? It emphasised his need to warn Bramwell to mind how he acted towards her.
She continued. “The earl, Mrs Ryde, and I have only been in Dublin about a week, and there is still much I must learn of it. I would hate to judge it without greater familiarity.”
“Knowing you, Lizzy, you have more you might share,” Mrs Ryde said. “We are amongst friends.”
“Yes, you are!” Bramwell interjected. “I must insist you tell us. Darcy and I require your information about Dublin. Since we have lately been to Kilkenny and you have been to Whitlock, we might share tales of our adventures.”
Lord Halsley chuckled. “Did I not say you would find it satisfying to discuss travel with her, Bramwell?” Including Darcy as well as the viscount in his next remarks, the earl said, “You will find Elizabeth to be a fount of knowledge about Ireland and Dublin, despite her claims to the contrary. As soon as the notion of coming arose, she began to read every book on the country she could find, and, since arriving, she has had me searching for even more morsels of information to feed her curiosity.”
Everyone apart from Darcy laughed; he only managed a polite smile as he regarded the young woman, his brow furrowed.
It was kind of the earl and Mrs Ryde to indulge her quest for knowledge, and it spoke well of her that she wished to be better educated.
While it was true that they were good people, he thought it was going too far; she was Mrs Ryde’s companion, after all, not a daughter or niece.
Then again, he thought, it might be a common practice if one had a companion you liked and wished to encourage, as it was evident Lord Halsley and Mrs Ryde did Miss Bennet.
His only experience with companions were his cousin Anne de Bourgh’s, who was a pitiful, misused creature, and Mrs Younge, who had lately been engaged to oversee his sister, Georgiana, since she had recently left school.
Miss Bennet was many years the junior of either lady, and perhaps that made a difference, although he did not know what.
It then happened that the two older members of their party created a slight separation from the three younger, likely to allow them to get to know each other.
Bramwell encouraged Miss Bennet to return to his previous question about her travels.
She spoke with real pleasure of her time visiting Mrs Ryde’s childhood county, claiming the discomforts of the carriage journey were nothing compared to the delights of all she had seen and done.
Bramwell answered a few questions about their excursion to his father’s estate, calling on Darcy to help him.
“Are there any other places you would like to visit, if you could?” Bramwell asked her.
“Certainly!” Her cheeks took on a little colour.
“I admit, if it were possible, I would go to Edgeworthstown, where Maria Edgeworth lives. My sisters and I all love her books, notably Belinda. We have read it aloud to each other many times. My mother likes it too, but my father calls us silly and teases us. But Edgeworthstown is over three hundred miles from Dublin.”
“I would not undertake such a journey, if the roads are near as poor as they were to Kilkenny!” Bramwell said. “How many sisters do you have? Are they older or younger? I take a great interest in sisters, although I have none myself.”
There was a brief expression in her eyes that suggested she understood his cousin’s true interest was in young ladies he might flirt with, whether they were anyone’s sister or not.
“I have four, one older and three younger. And, before you ask, my lord, no brothers. You may now express your pity for my parents. I have. Many times!”
Darcy chuckled, though quietly enough that he doubted they noticed.
Bramwell said, “Darcy has a sister.” He and Miss Bennet turned to him.
Clearing his throat, he said, “I do. Georgiana is fifteen.”
“She is just a little older than my youngest sister. Have you any brothers?”
Her question was to both him and his cousin. Darcy said he did not, leaving Bramwell to tell her about Fitzwilliam and his position as a colonel. After this, they returned to discussing Ireland, Darcy adding little to the conversation but attending to it closely.
“I have read and heard so much about Galway and the west that I would love to go there. I understand the coast is exceptionally beautiful,” Miss Bennet said.
“It would be a long journey by carriage, but I suppose you might sail there,” Bramwell said. “Would you mind? How did you find the crossing from England?”
“Not at all, and easier than I thought I would. I rather enjoyed it, actually, having never undertaken a similar voyage before.”
“Then I admire the fortitude of your stomach, Miss Bennet. I assure you, my cousin feels the water’s movement, no matter how gentle it is. He ends up being even grumpier than usual.” Yet again, Bramwell sent him a silent reprimand, this time one that was even more severe.
Darcy cleared his throat again and admitted to himself that he might have been a little too quiet. He attempted to look apologetic. “My cousin exaggerates—about my dislike of sailing, amongst other matters.”
He might have said more. Indeed, he had planned to say more, but just then, his eyes met Miss Bennet’s and the words flew away.
She was pretty, more than he had noticed before.
Her shiny hair was a warm brown, her skin fair, her figure lean yet womanly, and only a fool would not admire her eyes, which were close to if not actually remarkable.
No, they were remarkable. He suspected that, in her case, her eyes truly were the window to her soul.
What would he learn if he could only interpret what he saw in them?
At present, he believed it was amusement—and he was the cause of it.