Chapter Four
Elizabeth observed the man who had once, long ago, deemed her tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. He looked far too dejected for her to take any pleasure in disappointing him. Indeed, the look he was giving Sir Sidney Parker inclined Elizabeth to think well of Mr. Darcy; that he was not among the swaggering dandy’s party was one mark in his favor, at least.
Mr. Darcy’s companions moved closer to the desk, and the plain but pleasant gentleman in regimentals swept his gaze over one of Elizabeth’s ledgers before looking at her with a mischievous smirk. “Perhaps the reservation is under my name? Mr. Samuel Spencer.”
“Mr. Spencer, the acclaimed dancing master from London?” Elizabeth saw through his ruse but was nonetheless diverted by his manner of attempting it.
The officer performed a few steps of an improvised jig before spinning about with a flourish and sweeping into a bow. His companions winced as he smiled ruefully and shook his head with defeat. “Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam at your service, Miss Bennet. It was thoughtless of us not to make arrangements prior to travelling. My cousins have been beset by a series of calamities; there was a fire at their family estate in March, and they have not recovered from their mental distraction – hence our journey to this charming oasis.”
Elizabeth did not sense that this was another attempt to deceive her, for Mr. Darcy tugged at his cousin’s elbow, jerking him away from the desk with a look of reproach. The proud man who would not deign to dance with young ladies who were slighted by other men would certainly not wish his private travails blurted out to a near stranger.
The young woman, golden haired and full of timid wonder, trembled beside them. She had dark circles under her eyes, and Elizabeth did think it remarkable that one so young could at once appear so world-weary, and yet possess an endearing spark of hope yet in her gaze. This must be the sister, Elizabeth presumed; Miss Darcy, the paragon of accomplishment and virtue, whom Miss Bingley had preferred over dear Jane as a potential bride for Mr. Bingley. She was but a child, and despite Miss Bingley’s endorsement, Elizabeth was inclined to like the girl.
Miss Darcy smiled at Elizabeth as the two gentlemen appeared to be arguing in hushed whispers behind her. Elizabeth smiled back. “Are they always like that?”
“I would be most worried if they were not, for it would mean that something was terribly amiss. But they are like brothers, and they never speak to me with anything less than perfect kindness.”
“I have only just acquired a brother in the last fortnight – an infant half-brother,” Elizabeth replied. “But I have four sisters, and so I am not unfamiliar with such squabbling.”
Miss Darcy’s countenance brightened. “I beg your pardon, but surely you must be the same Miss Bennet I have heard of from Mrs. Bingley.”
Elizabeth inclined her head with a gentle laugh. “How fortunate that whatever you have heard of me has been said by an angel who has never found fault with anyone in the course of her life. When did you meet Jane?”
“I believe you were travelling with relations when we visited Netherfield last September.”
“I was here, as it happens. My aunt was in delicate health.” Elizabeth’s smile shuttered, and she turned around to Charlotte, only to find that her friend was no longer standing beside her, but was being introduced to some friends of Sir Sidney.
Mr. Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam had ceased their private bickering and moved to approach the desk once more, but they were cut off by a young couple who appeared oblivious to everything except one another. “Mr. and Mrs. Horne,” the lady said, not taking her eyes off of Mr. Horne.
Elizabeth looked apologetically at Mr. Darcy and the colonel, but they did not appear to be bothered by this interruption. She glanced down at her ledger. “Welcome to Sanditon, Mr. and Mrs. Horne. We have you in the Guillemot Room; that is on the third floor in the east wing.” She gestured with her right hand before giving Mr. Horne a brass key attached to a large cerulean tassel. “If you are not in a hurry, you may wait just over there while a footman attends to you and your wife’s luggage.”
“Ooh, your wife ,” the lady cooed with such wantonness that Elizabeth might have doubted this claim were it not for the very large diamond on the appropriate finger of the hand with which Mrs. Horne was caressing her husband’s chest.
Mr. Horne was as fixated on his wife as she was on him. “I believe I am in a hurry,” he said huskily, drawing his wife closer with an arm about her waist. He seemed to recollect himself and resumed a modicum of decorum. “I beg your pardon, Miss; we are on our wedding trip.”
Mrs. Horne bit her lip and purred at her bridegroom. “I have thought of nothing else since you proposed.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips as she tried to suppress her amusement. She glanced over at the other new arrivals, and saw that Colonel Fitzwilliam was equally entertained by the indecent spectacle. Miss Darcy also appeared interested, though a rosy blush emblazoned her face. Mr. Darcy looked as if he might cast up his accounts.
Fortunately, Mr. Connors came to the rescue. The tall, lanky concierge peered down his spectacles at the couple and cleared his throat loudly before swatting at Mr. Horne. “Sir, this is a respectable establishment. You and your wife – if indeed she is such – had better remove yourselves to the privacy of your room before Miss Bennet recovers from the scandalous sight of you and sees the good sense of giving your room to a guest of superior moral fiber!”
The colonel gaped at Connors’ rebuke, his brow rising and his jaw falling, amusement evident in his eyes. Mr. Darcy and his sister looked on with a milder variety of astonishment, and the Hornes made a hasty retreat up the grand staircase. Connors brushed his hands together and gave a deep bow of his head. “I hope they did not distress you, Miss Bennet,” he said with reverent gravity. “Your uncle would surely prefer me to instantly evict any guests who show you such flagrant disrespect, though I hesitate to make any more of a scene with the Parker family present.”
“My uncle knows I am likelier to laugh at such folly than take any real offense, but I appreciate your efforts, Mr. Connors,” Elizabeth replied.
The concierge might think it beneath Elizabeth to do any work at all in her uncle’s hotel, but Elizabeth saw the wisdom of her uncle urging her to take this opportunity to meet Sir Sidney’s guests. Sir Edward had expressed a hope that Elizabeth might take a fancy to one of the gentlemen, since she was not at all impressed by Sir Sidney himself. Elizabeth almost wished her uncle proven right, but her heart was not likely to be touched so soon after the disappointment that was all her own doing. Even so, it was enough to amuse herself with this opportunity to observe the various absurdities of the fashionable guests.
Again Elizabeth looked over the ledger. It detailed which guests had been assigned which room or suite, and what date they planned to arrive and depart. Miss Darcy had made a favorable enough impression – as had the colonel and his antics – that Elizabeth wished to assist the trio as best she could. But once again, she was interrupted.
The young woman who had been adulating Sir Sidney since she had arrived in Sanditon a week prior – and subsequently vexing the entire staff of the hotel with her unceasing demands and air of hauteur – approached the desk, her face pinched and her chin in the air. “Young lady, I require some assistance at once.”
“Of course, Madame Dentelle,” Elizabeth said, still searching her records to find a suite that might come available soon. It was rude of her to not even look up at the supercilious young woman, and Elizabeth knew she had gotten the name incorrect, for Madame Dentelle was a French fashion designer who had come to meet with Sir Edward and the Parkers to discuss opening a boutique in Sanditon. She had been exceedingly warm in her interactions with Elizabeth – unlike the young woman drumming her fingers impatiently on the desk.
“That lady there in the ghastly jonquil hat is Madame Dentelle.” The young woman turned to languidly point at Madame Dentelle, and froze at the sight of Mr. Darcy and his companions.
Mr. Darcy drew in a sharp breath. “Anne.”
At the same moment, the colonel gave a humorless smile. “Dentelle does sound rather like de Bourgh, Cousin,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.
Elizabeth was struck by the awkwardness of the encounter taking place on the other side of her desk. Mr. Darcy bowed stiffly to Miss de Bourgh, and though his posture was tense, his expression betrayed a surprising measure of passion.
Miss de Bourgh took a step back from Mr. Darcy and nodded curtly. “I am astonished to see you, Cousin.”
Miss Darcy stepped forward as if to shield her brother. “It is our custom to visit the seaside every summer, and Roberta painted such a pretty picture of Sanditon that I was mad to see the place for myself.”
Miss de Bourgh’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. “I may as well have copied out my letters to her and distributed them about London.”
“It seems you have, for all of London society appears to have pursued you,” Mr. Darcy replied, taking a few slow steps toward his cousin. “One might suppose the company of a certain gentleman to be sorely lacking when not surrounded by half the ton .”
“I have no wish to be pursued by anybody from London, though I am impressed by how many fashionable friends have accepted Sir Sidney’s invitation to join us for a season of revelry. I shall reach my majority at the end of the summer, and that is certainly cause for celebration.” Miss de Bourgh turned sharply away from Mr. Darcy and addressed Elizabeth. “My mother and I require immediate assistance.”
Elizabeth clenched the edge of her desk; the mother was a horrifying harridan. What a lark, Elizabeth had thought when she had first seen the name Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the register – she had imagined her cousin’s noble patroness arriving with the fanfare of a queen, her groveling parson in tow. Mr. Collins had, to Elizabeth’s infinite relief, not accompanied the great lady, but the fanfare seemed a definite requirement for her ladyship.
Lady Catherine was sweeping through the lobby even now, fairly dragging an obstinate spaniel on a velvet leash. The other guests parted to make way for her, many of them wincing at the shrill yapping of the animal. The dowager came to stand imperiously in front of the desk, and she snapped her fingers at Elizabeth. “This creature has made a beastly mess in our suite and requires an excursion out of doors at once.”
Elizabeth sneezed and took several steps backward at almost the same instant as Mr. Darcy had the same reaction. They exchanged a look of commiseration before Lady Catherine turned her attention to her relations. “Darcy, thank Heaven you are here! Richard, Georgiana, you are both looking exceedingly well.”
The uneasy trio all offered their aunt a tepid greeting, and then she waved them away before rounding on Elizabeth again. “Well?” Lady Catherine extended the leash to Elizabeth as if expecting her to personally attend to the ungovernable ball of fluff that had begun to chew on one corner of Elizabeth’s desk.
Elizabeth took another step backward. “As I explained yesterday, your Ladyship, one of our footmen can attend to this duty when your maid is unable to do so.”
“Ugh! I cannot find a single one of them to assist me! They are all occupied in carrying trunks for that tulip Sir Sidney’s frivolous friends; I am quite put out.” Lady Catherine turned to grimace at her daughter. “And where is Lovelace? Your maid ought to see to the wretched hound! We have brought her all this way on holiday with us, and she is just as likely to attract the notice of some suitable gentleman as you – the least she could do is make herself useful!”
Miss de Bourgh’s expression became even more apathetic. “She is my companion, not my maid. I do not see why she must lower herself to such menial work when the hotel promises the services of a full staff.”
“We are happy to attend to all our guests’ needs, Madam,” Elizabeth said with incredible forbearance. “I shall ring for one of our maids to manage whatever cleaning is required, and a footman will be sent to your suite as soon as one can be spared for your spaniel’s daily exercise.”
“I have rung for a maid already,” Lady Catherine said slowly, as if talking to a child. “Obviously I should try that before coming all the way down here, where I am made to practically beg for aid. It is insupportable! I should like to speak to Sir Edward himself about the egregious mismanagement I have observed! What can you be thinking, allowing so many people to all be arriving at the exact same hour? I should never allow such an inconvenience to take place at Rosings.”
Miss de Bourgh looked at everyone with equal derision. “That is because nobody ever visits Rosings, Mother. And give me that; you are going to strangle my poor little Contessa.” She snatched the leash away from her mother and lifted the dog into her arms with cooing affection before glancing over her shoulder at Mr. Darcy. “Is she not lovely? A gift from my dear Sidney.”
She turned to Elizabeth, who had retreated so far around the desk that she nearly backed into Mr. Darcy. “You are the proprietor’s niece, are you not?”
“I am,” Elizabeth managed to say before sneezing again.
Miss de Bourgh smiled virulently. “I have heard our prattling parson Mr. Collins boast of a connection to your family, therefore I know you have grown up on some rustic little country farm. You must know enough of animals to be able to manage the task yourself, since your uncle has not seen fit to hire sufficient help.”
“You are a relation of my parson?” Lady Catherine recoiled, a hand on her chest. “I have heard of your ill-usage of him – I know all about it! And now you refuse to oblige me!”
“I believe she may be affected as I am – proximity to canines gives me hives until I can scarcely breathe,” Mr. Darcy said.
Elizabeth gave him a look of gratitude, suddenly feeling churlish for taking any delight in denying him a room at the hotel. Before she could say anything, Mr. Connors had once again materialized at her side. He had made it his personal mission to ensure that none of the guests of the hotel ever showed Elizabeth the slightest incivility, though on such occasions she was disappointed to be denied the delights of observing the outrageous ways that people behaved when away from home. At present, this was not at all the case, and she smiled her thanks at the fastidious concierge.
“Your Ladyship, I have such a fondness for spaniels, so regal, so utterly endearing. I beg you would allow me to personally attend to the darling creature’s needs at once. Miss Bennet is her uncle’s right hand – at a moment of so much excitement, she surely cannot be spared. Come to me, little pineapple.” Mr. Connors, a man of tremendous dignity and little charm, had leaned over until his face was inches from the dog, and began to offer it kisses as he addressed the creature in a voice chiefly used to soothe infants.
“Thank you, sir. As Miss Bennet is apparently to be shackled to her desk, my mother and I are exceedingly grateful to you.” Miss de Bourgh sent Elizabeth a withering glare over her shoulder before thrusting her pet at Mr. Connors and then strolling away. “Come, Mother, I wish to introduce you to Sir Beaufort Bollingbroke and his amiable daughters, such obliging creatures they are.”
Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief as Miss de Bourgh ushered her onerous mother away in rather the same style as Mr. Connors led the ill-mannered spaniel toward the terrace. She had not entirely composed herself, however, for as she began to address Mr. Darcy and his companions, she instead burst out laughing. “Gracious, the looks on your faces!” Mr. Darcy was redder in the face than anybody she had ever beheld, his sister tittered nervously, her eyes shining with unspoken japes, and the colonel threw back his head with an unfettered guffaw.
When they had all managed to becalm themselves, Elizabeth offered a conciliatory smile. “I apologize; allow me to assure you that your relations shall be well looked after. Mr. Connors is dedicated to ensuring our guests feel perfectly at home here at the Tremont, and I….”
Colonel Fitzwilliam interrupted her. “Do not vex yourself, Miss Bennet – my aunt and cousin have already vexed you quite enough.”
“I fear I have rather vexed them .” Elizabeth pressed her lips together before any further impertinence could escape her mouth.
“Anne will forgive you with pleasure when she hears you have turned us away. It was only last week that she was the one to dismiss poor Darcy, and so you have more in common than the acquaintance of that preposterous little parson.” The colonel gave a roguish waggle of his eyebrows, but Mr. Darcy looked stricken.
Something tightened in Elizabeth’s chest as she recognized the subtle symptoms of heartbreak about him. He watched Miss de Bourgh from afar with profound sadness.
“I have not dismissed you by any means, though if you no longer wish to remain at the Tremont, I should hardly blame you for it.”
Mr. Darcy inclined his head. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I should be most obliged if you could recommend any passable lodgings that could accommodate us on short notice, until a suitable suite of rooms becomes available here at the Tremont.”
Elizabeth was momentarily surprised that Mr. Darcy would wish to stay at the same hotel as the woman who had forsaken him, but as she studied his earnest countenance, she began to understand. Though she thought Anne de Bourgh was well on her way to becoming as odious a gorgon as her mother, the lady must be capable of pleasantness when it suited her purposes, for she had aroused the admiration of both Sir Sidney Parker and Mr. Darcy, and the latter had apparently come to Sanditon to win her back.
Elizabeth smiled. She may yet have the pleasure of seeing the man who had once publicly insulted her experience an even more public and painful sort of mortification – or better still, she might do a great service for someone as lovelorn as she was. She pulled open the second drawer of the desk and retrieved a key that was not like any of the others she had handed out that day. “I have just had a stroke of tremendous inspiration. Please, follow me.”