Chapter Three
Engleton House, Hertfordshire
Two weeks later
"I must beg your forgiveness for not calling sooner," Elizabeth said as she was shown into Cassandra's private sitting room. "The past fortnight has been more occupied than I anticipated."
Cassandra waved a dismissive hand, though her expression suggested she had indeed noticed the delay.
She sat near the window in a gown of pale blue silk that complemented the room's furnishings perfectly—no doubt chosen with precisely that effect in mind.
Engleton House reflected the Rochford family's considerable wealth, from its imposing facade to the opulent interiors Elizabeth had glimpsed on her way through the entrance hall.
The sitting room alone could have accommodated Longbourn's entire parlour twice over.
"You are here now. I’ll admit I had begun to wonder if you meant to visit at all."
Elizabeth took the seat indicated, smoothing her considerably less expensive muslin. "I have been rather occupied with household matters. Mama has been in such a state about her distant relative’s impending visit that I've had to take over several duties she would normally manage herself."
"Oh?" Cassandra's tone suggested polite interest rather than true curiosity.
"The cook has prepared three separate menus, and Mama has rejected each one. Yesterday I spent two hours reviewing the household accounts—the butcher's bill alone required considerable negotiation—and this morning I had to inspect the guest chambers to ensure the linens were properly mended."
"How very industrious of you." Cassandra's lips curved in what might have been meant as a smile.
"I must say, the Bennets do seem to manage things rather differently than we do here at Engleton.
Our cook prepares whatever Mama requests without any fuss, and I cannot imagine having to inspect mended sheets.
That is what we employ a housekeeper for, surely?
Mrs Worthington manages all such matters even without Mama's supervision.
I should not even know where the household linens are kept. "
"How fortunate for you," Elizabeth replied evenly. "There is a certain satisfaction in understanding how one's household operates. After all, should Mrs Whitmore ever take ill or abscond with the silver, you would at least know where to begin looking for replacement linens."
The remark sailed past Cassandra entirely.
"Abscond with the silver? What a peculiar notion, Lizzy.
Mrs Worthington has been with us for fifteen years and is perfectly trustworthy.
Really, I cannot imagine why anyone would concern themselves with such unlikely scenarios.
" She shook her head with bemused tolerance.
"What would Mr Lucas think if he knew his intended was spending her mornings inspecting bedsheets? "
"Mr Lucas is not my intended. He has called twice at Longbourn, and we have enjoyed very pleasant conversations. That is the extent of our acquaintance."
"For now, perhaps. But these things progress quickly once a gentleman has fixed his interest. Why, look at Mr Darcy and myself!"
Elizabeth had been expecting this turn in the conversation. Her friend had managed to bring Mr Darcy up at least once per conversation ever since her aunt and Mr Darcy’s aunt had suggested the match between them several weeks ago.
"Yes," she said. "I understand he danced with you twice at the assembly. Quite a signal of his regard."
"Oh, it was more than regard, Lizzy!" Cassandra leaned forward, her eyes bright with excitement.
"He was everything Lady Catherine promised—so handsome, so distinguished!
And his manner towards me was marked with such particular attention.
Everyone noticed. Even Miss Bingley remarked upon it, though she seemed rather put out by the whole affair.
I believe she had hoped to secure his interest for herself. "
"How disappointing for her."
"Indeed! But really, it could never have been. Mr Darcy requires a woman of proper breeding and fortune. Someone who understands what is expected of a gentleman's wife." Cassandra's gaze flickered over Elizabeth with a triumphant look. "Not everyone can meet such exacting standards, of course."
Elizabeth felt heat rise in her cheeks as the events of the Meryton assembly swept into memory. "No, I suppose not everyone fits into Mr Darcy's particular requirements."
"He was perfectly civil to everyone, naturally—good breeding demands as much. But I could tell he found the assembly rather provincial. The company was not what he was accustomed to. I heard he made some remark to Mr Bingley about the local ladies not being quite up to London standards."
So that mortifying comment had made its way through the gossip channels. Elizabeth should have expected as much. "How very obliging of him to attend at all, then."
Cassandra nodded in agreement. "That is precisely what I thought!
It shows the depth of his interest in me that he would endure such a tedious evening merely for the pleasure of our acquaintance.
And our conversation during the dances was so delightful.
He has ten thousand a year, you know. Ten thousand!
And Pemberley is said to be one of the finest estates in Derbyshire. "
"You once mentioned." Elizabeth reached for the tea that had been brought in, grateful for something to occupy her hands.
"Did I? Well, it bears repeating. Such a match is not to be taken lightly.
" Cassandra's expression turned slightly reproachful.
"I must say, Lizzy, I was surprised by your manner towards Mr Darcy at the assembly.
Your teasing was rather forward. Men of his station prefer ladies who are more restrained in their address. "
Elizabeth set down her teacup with careful precision. "I was perfectly civil."
"You were impertinent," Cassandra corrected with a gentleness specially made to soften the harshness of her words.
"Oh, I do not mean to wound you—we have been friends too long for false flattery.
But truly, is it any wonder he did not seek you out for a dance?
Gentlemen like Mr Darcy admire proper conduct and modest demeanour.
Your liveliness, while charming among country society, does not suit more elevated circles. "
"How fortunate, then, that I have no ambitions towards elevated circles."
"Now you are being proud." Cassandra shook her head with the air of someone explaining simple arithmetic to a slow pupil.
"There is no shame in acknowledging one's limitations, Lizzy.
Not every woman can aspire to be the wife of a man like Mr Darcy.
You will find someone more suited to your temperament, I am sure.
Mr Lucas seems perfectly amiable, and he does not appear to mind your expressiveness. "
"How generous of him to tolerate my numerous deficiencies."
Again, the barb went unnoticed. Cassandra was too absorbed in her own narrative to detect Elizabeth's wit. "You must not think I am criticising you. I only wish to help you understand how these things work. Men of consequence require wives who reflect well upon them."
Elizabeth felt her jaw tighten, but forced herself to respond calmly. "I was not aware that honesty and competence were such grievous faults. Thank you for bringing that to my attention."
"You're welcome. Now, speaking of Mr Darcy—" Cassandra brightened visibly, clearly happy to return to her favourite subject.
"—he departed Hertfordshire the day after the assembly.
There was some emergency at Pemberley. A mine shaft collapsed, I believe, injuring several workers.
Terribly unfortunate timing, but of course, his responsibilities must take precedence. "
"Of course," Elizabeth murmured. Despite her irritation, she felt a flicker of concern for the injured workers and their families. Whatever Mr Darcy's faults as a conversationalist, he presumably had obligations to his tenants.
"But—and this is the truly wonderful part—before he left, he made arrangements for us to correspond!" Cassandra's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Through Mama, naturally. We must observe the proprieties after all.”
"Very clever," Elizabeth acknowledged.
Cassandra gestured towards her writing desk, where a folded sheet of paper lay beside the standish. "His first letter arrived this morning. I have not yet replied, which is actually why I am so glad you have come."
Something in her tone put Elizabeth on alert. "Oh?"
"His letter is terribly long. Pages and pages about the mine collapse and his tenants and I cannot say what else. I confess I grew rather bored after the first paragraph and skimmed the rest."
"You found a letter from your intended suitor boring?"
"Well, not boring precisely. Just... very detailed. He writes about matters that do not concern me—engineering problems and compensation for workers and such tedious business. I am sure it is all very important to him, but I have no head for that sort of thing."
“And what do you hope to do about that?”
Cassandra's expression turned pleading. "That’s where you come in, dearest Lizzy. You are so much cleverer than I am with words. Would you be an absolute angel and compose a reply for me?"
Elizabeth’s mouth fell open. "You want me to write to Mr Darcy on your behalf?"
"It would only be this once! Or perhaps a few times, until the correspondence finds its natural rhythm. You have such a way with language—far better than mine. And Mr Darcy would never know the difference. I have not written to him yet, so he has no example of my hand to compare it to."
"I cannot possibly—"
"Please, Lizzy! I shall be forever in your debt. You know how I struggle with letter-writing. Remember when we were at school and Miss Pemberton made us write those dreadful essays? You always helped me then."
"That was correcting your grammar, not impersonating you entirely!"
"But it is not so very different, is it? Besides, what harm could it do? I shall tell you what sentiments to express, and you merely put them into prettier words. It is not as though you would be deceiving him."
Elizabeth stared at her friend, struck by the peculiarity of the entire situation. Here was a woman claiming to pursue a gentleman she found boring, asking another woman to conduct the courtship on her behalf. It was simultaneously pitiful and frustrating.
The whole scheme spoke to a mercenary view of marriage that Elizabeth had always suspected Cassandra possessed but had never seen displayed quite so boldly.
To pursue a man solely for his fortune and consequence while caring nothing for his character or concerns—it seemed a recipe for mutual misery.
And yet, was Mr Darcy not equally mercenary in his own way?
He had chosen Cassandra based on her breeding and connections, dancing with her twice to signal his intentions before they had exchanged more than the most superficial pleasantries.
Perhaps they deserved each other—two people entering into a transaction rather than a partnership, each valuing surface over substance.
The thought did not make Elizabeth any more inclined to participate in their charade.
Every sensible part of her recoiled from involvement in such a dishonest scheme.
To impersonate another person in correspondence was not merely improper—it was a betrayal of trust that no rational justification could excuse.
Mr Darcy might be proud and disagreeable, but he did not deserve to be deceived in such an inconsiderate way.
And Cassandra, for all her shallowness, would only be building a foundation of lies for whatever union she hoped to secure.
"Well?" Cassandra asked, leaning closer. "What do you think? Will you help me?"