Chapter 12 Woe Betide
Elizabeth rose abruptly, swallowed hard, and left Mr Darcy’s study with her head bent to the floor.
Why would he not allow her to speak? She had ordered but half that number of dresses.
Lady Matlock had purchased the ball gown, and she had no idea where the additional twelve had come from.
Or rather, she had a suspicion, but since Lady Matlock could do no wrong in her husband’s eyes, there was not much she could say in her defence.
It was unlikely the dressmaker would dare add so many gowns to an order without fearing repercussions.
Wretched man!
She gave a squeal; her nails had dug into the palm of her hand, and she shook them to relieve the pain.
When that did nothing to alleviate the discomfort, she blew on them to no avail.
Then the pressure behind her eyes built to an unmanageable level.
She blew upwards to dry them, but the tears could not be contained.
Mary was joining them from Hertfordshire, and Georgiana was expected home at any moment.
If either arrived before the dreaded judge had left, she might even be forced to face him again.
It was insupportable to allow him to see her reduced to tears.
Oh no! She was made of sturdier stock and would not allow the flibbertigibbet to make her uneasy.
She sat at her escritoire and opened it to pen a letter, but her mind was too unsettled to form any coherent thoughts.
Instead, she opened the desk drawer out of curiosity and to familiarise herself with her new accommodations.
A miniature of a dark-haired woman stared at her.
She picked it up and turned it in her hand.
There was an inscription on the back. Though difficult to read, she managed to decipher: Lady Anne, summer 1782.
She was a fully grown woman of twenty-odd years in the painting.
Elizabeth smacked her forehead. What an idiot she was.
Darcy was seven-and-twenty, Miss Molesworth was barely more than forty, there was no chance that the faux princess would have come out in the same year as Lady Anne…
Elizabeth escaped to the balcony and gulped in the crisp air of May Day.
In Meryton’s square, her former neighbours would be decorating the maypole with flowers and ribbons for the evening’s dance.
The weather would be warm, flowers would bloom, and according to Sir Thomas Malory in Le Morte d’Arthur, ‘…it giveth onto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May.’
A glacial shiver ran through her body. She wanted to retch but must compose herself because the tell-tale sounds of a carriage halting at the front reached her ear. Miss Darcy!
It would not do for the girl to hear the reprehensible discussion in the study. Pinching her cheeks and blowing one last time at her watery eyes, Elizabeth hurried down to the entrance hall to greet her new sister.
“Miss Darcy, welcome home. Please, follow me.”
She guided her towards her chamber herself and chose the stairs at the opposite end from Mr Darcy’s study. It was fortunate that Darcy House was large enough to accommodate two flights of stairs, though the one leading to the mistress’s chamber was not as grand as the one to the master’s.
“I am certain you would like to refresh yourself after your journey.” Elizabeth did not leave Miss Darcy with much of a choice.
“Across the square?” Miss Darcy squeaked. Matlock House lay at the opposite side of Grosvenor Square to Darcy House, a distance so short that it would be faster to walk than to take the carriage. “I would rather greet my brother.”
“Mr Darcy is currently occupied with business in his study, and I am most eager to further our acquaintance. You must tell me your taste, your likes and dislikes, so that I can avoid serving your least favourite dishes.”
“Mrs Murray is aware of my preferences,” Miss Darcy informed her, whilst her eyes flickered everywhere but at her sister-in-law.
It was beyond irksome that Miss Darcy was being such a rational creature when Elizabeth herself was behaving in so ridiculous a manner.
“True, but will you not tell me about your days? My sister Mary is joining us later, and I would like to know more about what occupies you. What masters are you currently employing and in what subjects?”
Miss Darcy muttered something about pianoforte, drawing, and the modern languages. It was difficult to hear as she was the most softly spoken girl Elizabeth had ever encountered. Elizabeth studied her downcast eyes and restless shifting about the chair. The young lady must be exceedingly shy.
“Ich danke ihnen.”
By Miss Darcy’s widening eyes Elizabeth surmised that German was not amongst the languages she was learning, and she could not think of anything else to discuss.
“Very well, I shall leave you to rest.” A rest the girl had expressed she did not need, but Elizabeth definitely needed a respite from the awkward conversation.
Not that Miss Darcy was anything but unassuming and genteel, but Elizabeth was behaving like a beheaded chicken.
She needed to think, and for that she needed to walk, but Mary might arrive at any minute.
It would be abominably rude not to be present…
Mr Bennet arrived with Mary two hours later. Elizabeth was calmer after incessant restless pacing about her chamber. The judge had departed long ago, yet she had seen not a glimpse of Darcy.
“Papa!” Elizabeth hugged her father and then her sister. “How good of you to come. Please join me in the morning room and I shall order refreshments.”
Mr Bennet was frowning, so Elizabeth thought it might be best not to meet his eyes, or the tears she had finally defeated would surely fall.
“Mary, I am delighted you agreed to join us. We are to have a merry time exploring everything town has to offer.”
Her endeavour to sound cheerful did not remove her father’s frown, which deepened further despite her Herculean efforts to make merry.
“Do you have any news from home?”
“Yes, the militia is decamping to Brighton at the end of the month. Lydia has been invited as Mrs Forster’s particular friend and will join them. I declare that my house will be peaceful with only Kitty remaining at home.”
With the difficulties Elizabeth had faced after entering London’s society in mind, she could not help but be concerned for the reputation of the Bennet family, given the high animal spirits and natural self-consequence with which Lydia carried herself.
“But Papa, you cannot allow it! Lydia is certain to display herself as the most ridiculous girl who ever entered Brighton, and you know that such a woman as Mrs Forster will do nothing to correct her. She has less sense than Lydia, and I cannot think the good colonel so incredibly wise judging by his choice of wife. The probability of her being yet more imprudent with such companions must be even greater than at home.”
Mr Bennet listened attentively but replied, “Lydia will make a fool of herself wherever she goes. I would rather she do so in Brighton, with no inconvenience to me.”
Elizabeth fought the impulse to scoff. “Do you care nothing for the damage her unguarded manner will do the family’s standing in the eyes of society?”
“I care nothing for the squeamish who cannot bear a little absurdity. You sound missish. I hope that London’s supercilious society has not deprived you of your penchant for follies and nonsense. I thought better of you, Elizabeth, than to allow yourself to be so easily persuaded.”
A throat cleared behind her, bringing the discussion to an abrupt halt.
Elizabeth whirled round to face her husband and his sister.
She performed the introductions between Miss Darcy and her family whilst avoiding her husband’s probing gaze.
Once that was over, she could think of nothing to say, and neither could anyone in her company.
Mr Bennet was the one who broke the awkward silence. “What? No discussions of frippery and lace? I am certain, Mary, that Lizzy will treat you to more gowns and the like than you will ever care to own.”
“Certainly not!” Elizabeth protested more harshly than necessary, but with the morning’s one-sided quarrel in mind, she did not have the funds to purchase anything without Darcy’s approval.
“Do not be uneasy, Elizabeth. I want for nothing,” Mary graciously replied.
Elizabeth smiled and would express her gratitude to Mary as soon as they were alone.
“Make an appointment for Miss Bennet with your seamstress, Georgiana, but not at Mrs Bean’s Magazin des Modes. Her prices are outrageous,” Darcy declared whilst looking directly at Elizabeth.
“I could not possibly accept,” Mary demurred.
“It is my pleasure to provide for my new sister,” Darcy insisted.
“Perhaps one morning dress,” Mary allowed.
“I am certain you will need evening attire as well.”
“If you insist…”
Elizabeth’s head swivelled back and forth between Mary and Mr Darcy as if she were watching a game of battledore and shuttlecock.
She was amazed that after the uproar in his study he had a penny left to spend.
Two thousand nine hundred and seventy-five pounds was a significant fortune that could keep a whole family from succumbing to poverty for years. She should have paid more heed…
“Madame Claudette is not likely to have a vacant appointment in the near future. She is in high demand,” Miss Darcy apprised them in an apologetic voice.
“We could enquire of Mrs Gardiner’s seamstress whether she has an appointment instead,” Elizabeth suggested, to the agreement of everyone.
“As pleasant as this has been, I must leave if I am to return to Longbourn at a reasonable hour.”
Mr Bennet rose, and Elizabeth hastened to entreat her father to stay the night.
“I thank you, but no. These old bones prefer to sleep in their own bed. Have a pleasant evening.”
“Have you heard from Grandmother?” Elizabeth called after her father’s retreating back.