Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Monday morning found Elizabeth shopping with Lady Romsley yet again. She experienced a few pangs when she considered how much money her aunt was spending on her and hoped the countess did not feel she needed to buy her niece’s affection, so to speak.
The day before, Elizabeth had mentioned her concerns to Bramwell, who had assured her she could dismiss them.
“She is ecstatic to have a reason to shop for a young lady. Georgiana is not out yet, as you know, so her needs are not so great. Is she insisting you select gowns and such you do not like?” he had asked.
“Not at all. I am aware that my wardrobe is…more limited than I would have had, if I had always lived in your circle—”
“All the more reason to let her have her fun!” her cousin had interjected. “My father has spoken to you about money, has he not? He said he intended to.”
Elizabeth had nodded, but her response must not have been resolute enough for her cousin.
He had spent the next several minutes speaking of her uncle providing her with an allowance, securing the money left to her by her father, and increasing it to what he and her uncle Sterling had decided she should have—twenty-five thousand pounds.
When she had learnt the sum, it had been enough to rob her of her voice for almost an hour.
The amount would substantially increase her chances of making a good match, as would her connexion to the earl and countess.
Such a fortune would also allow her to help Mrs Bennet and any of Elizabeth’s cousins who remained unwed upon Mr Bennet’s death.
But, should she marry, her husband would have to agree.
For some reason, whenever she recalled the size of her dowry, her thoughts went to Mr Darcy.
Would he support his wife’s poor relations?
Not that the Bennets were poor; many had far less than they did.
And I do not mean Mr Darcy but rather a gentleman like him, she insisted, although the statement felt false.
That, she assured herself, was only because she did not really know any other gentlemen who belonged to the world of her father’s relations, apart from her cousins.
It was impossible that she should think well of him!
Was it not? But he was so different from how she remembered him—from how he had been in Hertfordshire.
Perhaps if I understood why, if I did not suspect it was only because he finds me more acceptable now, then I would not have such a difficult time allowing myself to like him.
The result was that she ceased to fret about Lady Romsley indulging her.
That morning, they returned to the modiste’s for a fitting.
In addition to Elizabeth’s gown for the Twelfth Night ball—a beautiful creation in rose silk and a shimmery overlay that she could not believe was hers—there were several other gowns and garments.
Once that errand was completed, the women went to a warehouse to look for shawls.
“You will want several warm ones for when we go into the country,” her aunt said. “After Christmas, we shall turn our minds to ensuring you have everything you need for Hillsdale and Romsley Hall. Very likely my nephew will invite us to Pemberley too. Even in winter, it is a beautiful estate.”
“Do you often visit it?” Elizabeth asked, unable to decide if she was comfortable with the prospect.
Surely, once she had more occasion to know him, she would be; she had vowed to move past her first impression, and their recent exchange at Mr and Mrs Darcy’s house had helped.
I would like to know if he spoke to Mr Bingley.
There might be news I could share with Jane, something to either give her heart hope that he intends to return or help her recover from her heartache sooner, if he does not.
“Quite often. The estates are not more than fifty or sixty miles apart, which is an easy distance.”
It might be if you were wealthy enough to afford the expense and had an excellent carriage. For Elizabeth, accepting such statements was something she hoped would become easier. At present, she sometimes felt out of place.
They decided to stop at a confectionary, and while awaiting the tea and delicacies they had requested, Lady Romsley chatted about trinkets she wished to purchase as Christmas gifts.
“I have most of them, but my husband mentioned a book to me yesterday that he is keen to read, and there are one or two other little things I would like to purchase. Tell me, darling girl, is there anything you would like to get for the Bennets or Gardiners?”
Elizabeth was touched that she had thought to ask. “I sent gifts for them all with Mrs Gardiner. I purchased them whilst I was staying in Gracechurch Street.”
“Good!” The countess smiled approvingly.
“I knew it would be unlike you not to have thought of it, despite the distraction of our happy reunion, but I wanted to assure you we could have anything else you would like to send delivered before the twenty-fifth. You need not be worried about mentioning your mother’s people.
I have vowed not to be jealous of them.”
Elizabeth laughed. “There is no need. I have enough affection in my heart for all of you, and even enough to spare for people I have yet to meet, such as your brother and his family.” Since the Fitzwilliams exchanged small items to mark Christmas, she said she would also like to have gifts to distribute.
The countess agreed to help her select them, since she was more familiar with the people involved.
Fortunately, the Darcys did not partake in the custom; Elizabeth had no notion what she could possibly buy Mr Darcy.
In the middle of this discussion, they were interrupted by Miss Bingley, whom Elizabeth had not noticed entering the shop with several young ladies who were presumably her friends.
She stood beside the table Elizabeth and the countess occupied, curtseyed deeply to Lady Romsley, then turned to Elizabeth and said, “Miss Eliza? It is true, then, what Mr Darcy told my brother, about your connexion to the celebrated house of Romsley? I congratulate you.”
“Thank you, Miss Bingley,” she said politely but not warmly.
“I suppose you have been occupied with your new relations, but you simply must call on me as soon as you have a free morning. My brother Hurst has a house near to Fitzwilliam House. Or I would be very pleased to go to you, of course. I have so many friends I might introduce to you, and we might—”
“You must address her as Miss Sterling, not Eliza,” Lady Romsley interjected, her voice cool, evidently unwilling to risk Miss Bingley continuing to list the many ways she might attach herself to Elizabeth.
How eager she is, despite barely managing to acknowledge me in Hertfordshire! Elizabeth silently laughed at how ridiculous and obvious the other young lady was being.
To Elizabeth, Lady Romsley added, “I hope Eliza is not a nickname you favour, because I admit I do not like the sound of it. It does not suit you.”
“I do not, though a few people insist on using it, despite my wishes,” Elizabeth assured her.
Turning to Miss Bingley, she continued. “I thank you again. As I am sure you understand, I am much occupied with my family, but, no doubt, we shall encounter one another again while we are both in town.” She would never encourage Miss Bingley’s attempts at friendship.
But I learnt something from seeing her. Mr Darcy has spoken to Mr Bingley.
Tonight, when he and Georgiana take dinner with us, I shall attempt to discover what they said!