Chapter 12 Woe Betide #2
Mr Bennet simply nodded, then walked out of her home with a sprightliness she had not seen for years.
“Would you like to refresh yourself before dinner, Mary?”
“Yes, I thought you would never ask.” Mary sighed.
“Then follow me,” Elizabeth suggested.
Mary collected her strongbox from a nearby table and clutched it in her hands.
Of all the Bennet sisters, Mary was the only one who fastidiously saved her quarterly allowance of ten pounds and hardly ever used a farthing of it.
It was probably wise not to leave it at home as she would not put it past Lydia, who was perpetually broke, to pick the lock.
“You have been exceedingly fortunate in your choice of husband,” Mary commended upon entering her lovely room.
“Yes, I have,” Elizabeth replied in a high pitch.
#
It was strange to have so many who knew each other so little present at breakfast the next morning. Elizabeth’s spirits, however, were much improved. Darcy had come to her last evening and had held her in a comforting embrace through the night.
Darcy lowered his newspaper. “What are your plans for the day, Georgiana?”
“I have a drawing lesson at eleven.”
“I shall ask your master whether Miss Bennet could join you.”
“Miss Bennet admitted to me only yesterday that she does not draw,” Miss Darcy informed her brother.
“Do not make yourself uneasy,” Elizabeth mollified her frowning husband and fidgety new sister.
“Mary and I have a prior engagement. I sent a note to our uncle Gardiner last evening, and he is expecting us at noon.” She should have informed Darcy sooner, but with the strained atmosphere between them, the matter had simply been forgotten.
The visit could hardly come as a surprise as it had been mentioned in reference to renewing Mary’s wardrobe.
Darcy looked pleased at her efforts, so she continued. “I believe, with such a great difference in the girls’ drawing skills, it would be difficult to teach them both at the same time.”
“Very well. I leave it to you to arrange the lessons as you see fit,” Darcy agreed before resuming reading his paper.
There were fortunately no callers that morning, not that Elizabeth had received many since they had arrived in town, with the exception of the ones Lady Matlock had sent.
It was strange that the countess had not mentioned returning the calls, but customs might differ in superior society.
It was the convention, in her neighbourhood, to refrain from visiting couples who had recently married, so she supposed that was the reason and had not spared it much thought.
The Gardiner house on Gracechurch Street was situated in a trading area that had thrived since the medieval corn markets were held at Saint Benet Gracechurch.
Mrs Gardiner greeted the sisters on the steps and ushered them into the parlour for a cup of tea, where Mr Gardiner was waiting for them.
“We have come to ask your advice in choosing the best dressmaker in town. My experience with Mrs Bean’s Magazin des Modes does not bear repeating.” Elizabeth chuckled because if she did not laugh there was a distinct possibility she might cry instead.
Mr Gardiner’s head turned abruptly towards her; his quizzical eyes bore into her. Could he have heard about the travesty at the dressmaker’s? Was Elizabeth’s name being bandied about as the most na?ve, imprudent lady who had ever crossed the shop’s threshold?
“Mrs Bean is one of my business partners, and I would like to know of what you have to accuse her,” Mr Gardiner’s voice grumbled. “She is highly sought after amongst the beau monde, though I know something about her of a less flattering nature.”
How much should she divulge and what should she conceal? Studying her most trusted relations, Elizabeth decided to be frank about her dealings with the woman, and the countess’s involvement.
“Lady Matlock had made me an appointment the day after we arrived in town, and I have nothing to criticise other than her calculations. I ordered twelve dresses, and the countess insisted upon gifting me a ball gown as a welcome to the family, but for some inexplicable reason, five-and-twenty dresses were delivered. The additional gowns arrived on the night of Lady Matlock’s ball.
I was pressed for time, and with the alterations needed, I was ignorant of the excess until Mr Darcy received the bill. A wretched mistake…”
“I assume Mr Darcy was not best pleased at the additional cost of the gowns?” Mr Gardiner queried.
Elizabeth chuckled mirthlessly.
“No, but that was hardly the end of it. The stack of bills on his desk was beyond the pale. The cobbler and hat maker I did visit, but the number of slippers did not match what I had ordered. The worst was a set of silver spoons. I had not made the order, and I cannot help but suspect one whom it would be dangerous to accuse.”
Her relations were stunned into silence. Mary shook her bowed head, Mrs Gardiner gaped, and Mr Gardiner rubbed his chin in contemplation.
“What I am about to divulge must not leave this room.” Mr Gardiner looked each of them in the eye and did not continue until they had nodded their consent. “Mrs Bean owes me a considerable amount of money. In excess of three thousand pounds.”
Even Mrs Gardiner gasped at such a significant figure. Elizabeth was not privy to Mr Gardiner’s wealth, but the sum would threaten the existence of most tradesmen.
“Needless to say, I wield some influence in the matter of Mrs Bean. You need not concern yourself about the woman and can expect her to reclaim the surplus gowns at her earliest convenience. I shall see what I can do about the cobbler, silversmith, and milliner.”
“Mr Darcy cancelled the order of silver spoons, so that is no longer a problem,” Elizabeth informed her uncle.
“Do you know the total amount of the bills your Mr Darcy has received on your behalf?” Mr Gardiner enquired.
“Adding the bills I have seen, it was two thousand nine hundred and seventy-five pounds.”
“Mr Darcy must have been very angry,” Mary whispered.
“That he was,” Elizabeth confirmed with feeling.
Mary dared raise her head to study her. “Were you very frightened?”
“Of course not! Mr Darcy scolded me, but he is not a savage.”
“I hope this matter of your finances has not driven a wedge between you,” Mrs Gardiner said, her brow creased in concern. “It is not uncommon to have disputes with your husband—even Mr Gardiner and I have had our tiffs over the years.”
“I am well versed in the disputes of marriage,” Elizabeth said, picturing her parents’ almost daily quarrels over the years. “I shall endeavour to forgive his lack of trust in me, and for not allowing me to defend myself.”
“Dearest Lizzy, do not allow your resentment to fester. Mr Darcy has many qualities to admire. I find when counting my husband’s attributes, they far outweigh any flaws.”
“You cannot liken Mr Gardiner to Mr Darcy,” Mary protested. “Mr Darcy’s standing in society and excellent connections are not comparable.”
“Mary!” Elizabeth admonished in a firm voice.
Mr Gardiner chuckled. “I trust Mary to speak nothing but the truth. Rest easy, Lizzy. I am not offended by facts. But I must be off if I am to resolve the dress conundrum in a timely manner. But a word first if you please, Lizzy.”
“Certainly, Uncle.”
“Let us adjourn to my study.”
It was intriguing to say the least to be invited into her uncle’s sanctuary. Not even Mrs Gardiner was allowed to venture into that room.
He gestured for her to sit.
“I can guarantee that none of my associates will ever try to deceive Mrs Darcy ever again.”
“To think that I almost accused Lady Matlock of duplicity,” Elizabeth pondered.
“I would strongly advise you against harbouring any such notions. Lord Matlock is a powerful peer, and Lady Matlock wields considerable influence in her own right. I would not make an enemy of either if I were you.”
“I promise to heed your advice, Uncle. I am in no position to dispute my superiors.”
“Hmm. I have read the newspapers. Combined with what you have told me and what you have not mentioned, I have concluded that your introduction to the haut ton has not gone as well as one would hope.”
“No,” Elizabeth admitted, thinking about the dreaded Shang bowl, the huge stack of bills, and the derogatory whispers she had overheard at the ball. “What newspapers?”
Uncle Gardiner shoved a stack of morning and evening gazettes before her to peruse.
“This is beyond eerie.” Elizabeth studied the unflattering depiction of herself.
“I mentioned the late arrival of my ball gown before Lady Matlock’s ball.
It was accompanied by matching stays, chemise, and petticoats, but when I donned the dress, the stays were too low and the split in the skirts was indecently high.
I had to pin a fichu over my bosom while my maid stitched the split.
I was supposed to attend in the manner shown in this sketch, but I did not.
Which means the mistakes were made by design and I have an enemy, with no conception of who it might be. ”
Then she noticed something at the back of the drawing and strained to decipher the caricature.
Behind her, the likeness of Darcy was depicted, drooling with the fall of his breeches unbuttoned.
The promiscuous newly wedded Mrs D and her senseless husband, she read underneath the drawing and was too shocked to speak.
“This reeks of petty jealousy. Does your husband leave a spurned mistress, or has he jilted any ladies who had been vying for his affection?”
Elizabeth flinched at the word mistress and let out a gusty sigh.
The thought had never entered her mind, but Darcy was a man of the world and was by no means lacking experience in a certain aspect of their married life.
She shook off the unpleasant thoughts and concentrated her mind upon the possibility of her uncle’s latter accusation.
“There were expectations from his family that he would marry his cousin Miss Anne de Bourgh, and to a lesser degree, Miss Clarissa Darcy.”
Mr Gardiner pressed his lips together. “I know much about Miss de Bourgh’s mother, Lady Catherine. She is a formidable woman who is used to getting her own way. Give it time. I am certain that once you become known to her, your pleasant manner and delightful company will overcome all obstacles.”
“Thank you for your biased faith in me, Uncle. I have met Lady Catherine, and her behaviour was perplexing at best.”
Mr Gardiner grinned. “That is what I mean—who would not be charmed by your quick wit?”
“My mother,” Elizabeth replied flatly. “I have lately pondered whether her admonishments were correct.”
Mr Gardiner laughed and ushered her out of his study. In the next moment, he had left the house.