Chapter 13 A Virtuous Woman
The seamstress from Mrs Bean’s called the next day.
“I’ve come to collect the excess dresses, ma’am.”
“That is greatly appreciated. Follow me,” Elizabeth beckoned, leading the servant towards the mistress’s chamber.
Like a jack-in-the-box, Darcy emerged from his study and followed them to her dressing room with a haughty air and narrowed eyes.
Elizabeth fetched and neatly folded, one by one, the twelve gowns that she had not ordered. With each garment she retrieved, her husband’s ears grew redder. Good. He deserves to be embarrassed for accusing me of being an unmitigated spendthrift.
“I am afraid that I need the ball gown, too, unless you want to pay for the Dhaka muslin yourself.”
“Lady Matlock gave it to me as a gift,” Elizabeth protested.
“It is Mrs Bean’s orders that I retrieve the gowns that have not been paid for. I know nothing else,” the seamstress said whilst wringing her hands.
Elizabeth took pity upon the innocent servant and fetched the offending article.
“You might as well take the stays too. They need altering before selling to anyone else as they are much too low. I had to pin a fichu over my bosom to avoid exposing myself in the obscenest of manners.” Darcy was staring a hole in the floor, but she was not sparing him the crude details if he insisted upon importuning her.
“The split also needs attention. It is roughly sewn together as I was even less inclined to expose my bottom.”
Darcy could not leave fast enough and tripped on the Persian rug beside her bed.
Elizabeth bit her cheek to quash the laughter that bubbled in her chest. It was to be hoped that he had learnt a lesson and would, at the very least, exert himself to listen to her when next he took umbrage against something she had supposedly said or done…
As soon as the seamstress had left, callers were announced, unnerving Elizabeth.
“Judge Darcy, Mr Augustus Darcy, and Miss Clarissa Darcy are here to see you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr Gilbert. I shall greet them in the morning room in a moment. Will you notify Mr Darcy?”
Elizabeth was not of a mind to entertain the curmudgeonly judge by herself. Every fibre in her body resented the fact that she must see him at all.
“I already have, ma’am.”
“Oh, and order some tea.”
“Of course, Mrs Darcy,” the butler replied with the kind of patience that told her he already had notified the kitchen.
There was not much else to do but join the fray.
After smoothing her unruly curls, she left the sanctuary of the mistress’s chamber.
She could hear the judge from the top of the stairs and descended with determination.
The sounds were coming from the more formal drawing room, and thither she walked.
“Where is Mrs Darcy? It is peculiar not to welcome one’s guests—and family at that,” the judge grumbled.
Before Darcy had time to make her excuses, Elizabeth entered and turned her grimace into a grin.
“Here she is,” Elizabeth announced with an affected lilt to her voice. The man who had nearly toppled her outside Mrs Bean’s establishment was standing in her parlour. Why had she not recognised him yesterday when he visited? Because she had not actually looked at him, that was why.
The judge’s eyes appeared uncommonly large behind the spectacles resting on an aristocratic nose.
He sported a great deal of forehead, which was to be expected from a man of his age.
His son had the Darcy blue eyes, though they looked a trifle bleary on this fine morning.
In every other aspect he resembled a well-ironed image of his father.
Miss Clarissa Darcy was the female version, though significantly shorter and sturdier.
“And that must be one of your sisters.” The judge lifted a crooked finger and pointed above her shoulder.
Elizabeth turned and was surprised to see Mary standing on the threshold. “Yes, this is my sister Miss Mary Bennet.”
Mary curtsied low and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Please, be seated,” Elizabeth prompted the motley assembly.
A maid arrived with the tea and another with a tray of pastries that took the judge’s attention away from Elizabeth, who then busied herself with making the beverage to everyone’s liking. Her occupation allowed the judge to interrogate her innocent sister, who managed very well, by the sound of it.
“‘Meekness cultivated on Christian principles is the proper consummation, and highest finishing, of female excellence.’”
Mary, as always, was quoting Fordyce, but the judge did not look as if he thought any less of her for her pedantic display. He exclaimed in pleasant surprise and admitted to being intrigued by her pious sister.
Darcy and his cousin fell into an easy discussion over whether the sanctions to counter Napoleon’s Continental System, a form of economic warfare pursued through an embargo on British trade with Europe, were doing more harm than good.
Elizabeth approached the young girl who had once been forwarded as a candidate for her husband’s wife, just as Mary launched into a paraphrased Fordyce tirade about accomplished women.
“—they learn chiefly to dress, to dance, to speak bad French, to prattle much nonsense, to practise I know not how many conceited airs, and in consequence conclude themselves to be accomplished women.”
The discussion gave Elizabeth an idea for a conversational topic.
“Do you enjoy music, Miss Darcy?” Speaking Clarissa’s name reminded her of Georgiana, who was absent. Perhaps she was occupied with her master?
Miss Clarissa Darcy did not answer. She may not have heard her query because she was too engrossed staring at a flower arrangement. Where was Georgiana?
Deep in conversation with his cousin, Darcy did not notice, and it would be rude to interrupt him to ask after his sister.
“Certainly,” was the short reply after much delay.
So, she had heard but deliberately postponed her reply. Was she trying to offend her?
“Do you play any instruments? I play the pianoforte, though very ill indeed.” Elizabeth resorted to humour to try to put the girl at ease.
“I play the pianoforte and harp. To what proficiency I leave to others to decide.”
Elizabeth nodded; the girl was not inclined to be pleased, so much was abundantly clear, and her attention drifted back to Mary’s conversation.
“—romance and distractions, the extravagance of vanity, and the rage of conquest,” Mary snarled in disgust.
“Clarissa, please join us,” the judge commanded.
His daughter rose with due haste and chose the chair closest to her father, which afforded Elizabeth an opportunity to ask the butler to notify Georgiana about their guests.
But Mr Gilbert informed her that Darcy had already decided that Georgiana’s studies should not be disturbed, which left Elizabeth with no other choice but to resume her seat and listen to the conversations around her.
“You should hear Miss Bennet’s conception of a virtuous and a sinful woman. She is an uncommonly clever girl.” The judge gestured to Mary, who preened at the praise. “What do you consider female accomplishments, then, Miss Bennet?”
“Accomplishments may be divided into three classes—the domestic, the elegant, and the intellectual.” Mary once again paraphrased with the certainty she possessed in all her opinions. Not even a distinguished and formidable judge intimidated her in the slightest.
“Of the three, which would you deem the greatest virtue?” the judge asked with genuine interest.
Elizabeth could only be relieved that he paid her no attention, as he was certainly less inclined to act with civility where she was concerned.
“The first are neglected by many women as below their notice, but no height of rank or affluence can justify such neglect. To care for a household is an indispensable part of female employment and depicts perhaps the most beautiful image of a virtuous woman.”
“’Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies.’” The judge agreed by quoting Proverbs, which made Mary preen and compelled her to continue.
“’Such a woman is to be trusted. Her husband has no need of spoil. In her personal honour, her fidelity, and also in her economy and prudence with regard to all affairs at home—'”
Elizabeth squirmed, the image of an ancient Chinese artefact and a stack of bills flashing before her inner eye.
“’—her husband reposes such perfect confidence, that he can go abroad and conduct his business without the smallest anxiety of domestic concerns, or the least temptation to enrich himself at the expense of other men.’”
“Brava, Miss Bennet! I have rarely encountered such a virtuous and sage woman in all my years. Yet you do not boast or crow. I am exceedingly impressed.”
Mary blushed scarlet, which was rare indeed. Her pious sister was usually in control of her facial expressions and so demure her blood dared not rush to her cheeks.
“’Meekness cultivated on Christian principles is the proper consummation, and highest finishing, of female excellence,’” she replied.
Mary’s reserves of Fordyce’s quotes were depleting, and she began repeating herself. The judge continued to test her on scripture, but Mary was well versed in that too.
The marital quarrel the judge had witnessed was not broached, which compelled Elizabeth to deem the visit a success.
“That went much better than I had dared hope,” Darcy admitted once the guests had left. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. Your knowledge of the bible and Fordyce’s Sermons does you credit.”
For the second time in less than ten minutes, her most collected sister blushed.
#
The next two days saw the Bennet sisters much occupied with procuring Mary’s new gowns.
Darcy was a generous man, Elizabeth had to admit, when he did not feel taken advantage of, and Mary was nothing but grateful and unassuming.
It did not matter much to Elizabeth that she had no funds of her own but the few pounds she had brought from Longbourn.
That, she had used to buy her sister and herself ices at Gunter’s.
“You must show me what you have purchased,” Darcy entreated when they arrived home.
Mary eagerly displayed her treasures for her brother-in-law’s approval, describing what gowns she had ordered whilst thanking him repeatedly for his generosity.
“And you, Elizabeth. What bargains have you procured today?”
Elizabeth’s cheeks immediately warmed. He could not have forgotten that he had rescinded her pin money, demanding to approve her every expense in advance?
“Lizzy used her limited funds to buy us ices at Gunter’s, Mr Darcy.”
You could count on Mary to divulge every fact, Elizabeth grumbled to herself. The girl was perpetually honest and never knew when it was best to say nothing at all.
Darcy looked bewildered and his ears reddened.
“An oversight, I am sure. Elizabeth, would you follow me to my study? I have household matters I would like to discuss with you.”
“Certainly,” she hastened to agree before they quarrelled in front of Mary. With her sister’s earnestness, she might tell Miss Bingley everything.
“Why have you not purchased anything for yourself?” Darcy enquired as soon as the door was closed.
“I have no pin money, and you must approve my every purchase in advance. Since the shops we visited today were new to me, it was impossible to know what items would strike my fancy.”
“I may have acted a little hastily and harshly when we discussed the bills. In the light of recent discoveries, I may have uttered demands, in the heat of the moment, that were unfair. It truly was the spoons that irked me. I do not mind you purchasing items you need, and if your old garments from Longbourn are unfashionable, you may replace them. What I cannot abide is squandering my money on unnecessary frippery. A new set of spoons will not deplete my coffers, but I would rather save the coins if at all possible.”
It was lovely that Darcy so readily admitted to making a mistake, though an apology was too much to expect. His explanation was perfectly reasonable and spoke very well of him as a provider. It inclined her towards forgiveness and humour.
“Either way, I doubt I have any pin money left if you have not succeeded in returning all the items that I did not order. The excess was astounding. Do you not find that odd?”
“Merchants defrauding unsuspecting customers are nothing new, Elizabeth. You are unaccustomed to merciless London trade. There might be further attempts to trick you, which is why I entreat you to err on the side of caution in the future. If you are unsure about anything, please do not hesitate to ask my opinion.”
Darcy rose and opened a safe that was hidden behind a painting of Pemberley. From it he pulled a stack of five-pound notes and gave it to her.
“Put this in your safe box. Even though I trust my servants, it is unwise to tempt anyone.”
Elizabeth accepted but was too embarrassed to do anything beyond curtseying and returning to her room.
The ladies soon adjusted into some sort of order of the day. The Bennet sisters decided to hire their own music master; Georgiana was much more accomplished on the pianoforte, and her lessons would become very dull indeed if she were to include Elizabeth and Mary.
Of course, wild and mostly unfounded rumours soon ran rampant about Mrs Darcy’s lack of accomplishments, fortune, and connections.
She had nothing at all to recommend her.
Not even Mr Darcy entrusted her with his money, even though the Pemberley coffers were known to be filled to the brim.
She was mocked, depicted, and discussed in the morning papers, which in turn made her more reserved towards the servants.
Because who else would tattle to the gossip rags?
It was certainly not her husband, and she could not believe it of either of her sisters.
By way of deduction, there was simply no other choice; the rumours were becoming more specific by the day, which in turn made her believe that someone must be feeding the press her personal business.