Chapter 10 Darcy
Darcy
“Welcome to Cornwall,” Darcy said to his bride.
He watched as she eagerly studied the open grassland, a mosaic of purple heather and green and gold and brown grasses. The moorland was made dramatic by numerous granite outcroppings.
Darcy was a careful man, and he had hired extra men to flank the carriage as he and Elizabeth crossed Bodmin Moor. Naturally, he did not fear piskies and ghosts, but highwaymen were a real concern. Still, he knew that Elizabeth would love the rugged landscape.
She acclaimed every massive tor and every ancient monument.
She found beauty even in the endless sweeps of tufted grass and heather.
The Cheesewring was an enormous stack of stones created by natural forces, not—as local lore suggested—giants, and Dozmary Pool was said to be where the legendary Excalibur was returned to the Lady of the Lake.
Chattering away about what she had read of the area, Elizabeth asked scores of questions, only some of which he could answer.
It was a long day, full of discussion and delight but only the shortest breaks as they changed horses and refreshed themselves.
They did not reach Truro until late, and Elizabeth sighed with satisfaction as they spotted the town laid out before them, looking as if it had been placed by a giant into a steep-sided bowl.
The stone buildings glowed almost like gold in the low rays of the sun, and even from a distance, there was a look of bustle to the place.
The quay bristled with the masts of ships, and as they approached the busiest area of the town, Darcy saw a row of quite new looking Georgian mansions.
One of them would be the Darcys’ residence for the night.
Of course there were inns in the town—Truro was considered by many to be the most important town in Cornwall—it was even called “the London of Cornwall”—but Darcy was pleased to be staying at the home of an acquaintance rather than a commercial inn.
He told Elizabeth that Mr James and Lady Harriet Meadows were a half a decade older than he, but childless.
Darcy had met Meadows at his club in London, and the man had often mentioned that he hoped Darcy would stay with him if he ever went so far as Truro; he was extremely grateful for Darcy’s recommendations to invest in an iron mine in Cornwall and a steel production plant in Wales.
Both investments were already yielding very satisfactory returns.
Meadows was especially appreciative because he had been planning to invest in Great Wheal Busy, instead.
Not long after Darcy’s recommendations convinced him to invest elsewhere, the mine he had considered a sure thing had been forced to close.
When Darcy and Elizabeth stepped down from their carriage at the front of the mansion, Meadows’s butler opened the front door and showed them into a very grand drawing room with high ceilings and fine plasterwork.
Meadows sprang up as they were announced, and he hurried forward, bowing and eagerly welcoming them to his home.
“It is so lovely to meet you, Mrs Darcy. You have been quite the talk here in Cornwall, as well as everywhere else in the kingdom, I imagine.”
“I have been?” Elizabeth laughed unaffectedly, and Darcy saw Meadows’s appreciation of her as being a bit too strong.
He calmed himself by watching his wife instead, as she said, “I suppose you meant the collective you, and I must admit that I understand why Mr Darcy is talked of—I find him endlessly fascinating.” She gave Darcy one of her smiling, upward-tilting gazes, and he held her hand on his arm with affection.
Meadows’s warm welcome to his home was not, unfortunately, echoed by his wife.
She barely acknowledged the introduction to Elizabeth with the slightest nod of her head.
Darcy remembered that she was a duke’s daughter who was reported to be dissatisfied with the marriage her father had brokered on her behalf—or, rather, on his own behalf.
Darcy had not known if such a rumour was true, but the glance she gave her husband seemed shocking in its open antipathy, and he felt inclined to give it credence.
Lady Harriet announced that they would be sharing a late supper, and Meadows led in Elizabeth before the hostess took Darcy’s arm with reluctance rather than graciousness.
The four sat down to cold roast pheasant, fricasseed chicken, and fruit compote, and while the rest of them spoke easily about the beauties of Devon and Cornwall, Lady Harriet addressed them all primarily by supercilious glances and sniffing.
Eventually a blancmange was served, along with Lady Harriet’s first contribution to conversation. She turned to Elizabeth and said, “I was mystified by the…article… in L’élégante Assemblée, describing your wedding breakfast.”
“Believe me, we were as mystified as you.”
Lady Harriet narrowed her eyes. “But…surely you invited a reporter for just that purpose?”
“We did not. We invited our very closest friends and family, and since we were holding it in my mother’s neighbourhood, she wished to invite the landowners in the area. Which of our guests wrote the article is completely unknown to us.”
“Well, how dreadful for you, to contemplate that someone you trusted…!”
Darcy felt quite strong agreement with their hostess’s words—he would certainly have preferred that none of their friends and relations would have exposed their private event with such an article—but given Lady Harriet’s attitude, he felt that he had to refute her assumption.
“Actually, we were only at the wedding breakfast for two hours. It was startling to realise that the party went on for five additional hours, and it was very interesting for us to read a description of the event.”
Elizabeth laughed and agreed, “My husband is quite correct; we were shocked at first, but then quite gratified to read just how much happiness occurred in the wake of our nuptials.”
Lady Harriet reverted to sniffing and staring down her nose at her guests. If the downward slant of her mouth and brows was any indication, she was most vexed.…
The separation of the sexes seemed fairly important to their host, Darcy sensed, but as Meadows discussed possible opportunities and strategies for further investment, he worried about Elizabeth being alone with the unpleasant Lady Harriet.
Still, he felt that he must give the man his due, and he managed to focus on the prospectus of a new copper mine and a shipping line in which Meadows was interested.
Darcy cautiously imparted the investment wisdom of his father alongside his own opinions about the increasing importance of the proper division of risks in the funds, in land, in local ventures, and in companies who allowed limited liability for investors.
Meadows seemed fairly stunned by Darcy’s “radical” ideas, and the discussion continued for half an hour.
Finally, Darcy said something mild about wishing to be back in the presence of his bride, and Meadows smiled in quite a smarmy way, saying, “Yes, I can certainly imagine. I envy you, Darcy!”
Oh, God! Darcy thought. He had had enough of envy, but he smiled politely as he hurried back to the drawing room.
“I am so pleased to be able to read it,” Elizabeth was saying as he entered.
Feeling relieved to find her smiling, he looked at their hostess to judge her mood—and Lady Harriet looked like a caricature of a villainess. Darcy closed the gap between himself and Elizabeth and, sitting close beside her on a settee, he put his hand possessively on her arm.
“What charming topic have you ladies been discussing in our absence?” Darcy asked. He tried to approximate a friendly, light-hearted tone, but he actually felt anxious.
“Lady Harriet showed me your letter to the editor of The Times,” she replied. “I am so proud of your ability to clearly articulate your ideas.”
Darcy felt flustered. Their hostess had fairly attacked Elizabeth on the topic of the article in L’élégante Assemblée, and now she was attacking him—he was certain, despite Elizabeth’s calm—in regard to yet another exposure of the Darcy name in the newspaper.
“You wrote a letter to the editor of The Times?” Meadows asked.
“He did,” Lady Harriet said with a snide smile.
At the same moment, Elizabeth proudly said, “He did! My wonderful husband has pointed out that our nation can boast of much cultural wealth, including the many plays written in the English language, and he went on to argue that we all benefit when everyone, high and low, can participate with and enjoy these cultural gems.”
“Ah, an educated populace makes for a stronger nation.” Meadows nodded his head, looking as if he was really considering his own words, which he had paraphrased from something Darcy had said earlier. He reached for the newspaper and began to read Darcy’s letter for himself.
“Such a noble idea, indeed, Mr Darcy,” Lady Harriet’s voice held the sneer she concealed by her carefully polite mien. “However, the nuance and subtleties of Shakespeare must be lost on those who are used to clamorous assemblies and the shrill sounds of the market.”
“On the contrary,” Darcy said, “Shakespeare famously appealed to the gallery as well as the boxes.”
“Yes, he did,” Elizabeth chimed in. “His elevated language was often combined with what I might refer to as lowbrow entertainment.”
“Yes, philosophy and buffoonery, together,” Darcy said, smiling at his bride.
Lady Harriet’s frown was almost frightening, and she opened her mouth to say more but closed it again when Meadows opined, “I agree with the Darcys.” He laid the newspaper down again, and Darcy wondered if he had read any part of his letter.
Their hostess was clearly vexed at all that had been said—or, perhaps, she was still vexed after having her assumptions refuted during dinner.
Somewhat stilted conversation continued for a few minutes, but Darcy began to politely lie about being exhausted, and Elizabeth confirmed that she, too, needed to retire early.
Lady Harriet was eager to withdraw as well, and soon Darcy and Elizabeth had achieved their private rooms in the guest wing.
“I am so sorry,” Darcy said to her when the valet and lady’s maid had left, “to have chosen to reside with an acquaintance whose wife was so unwelcoming. I assumed from Meadows’s many offers of hospitality that all members of the household would be pleased—or at least polite.”
Elizabeth chuckled and said in a low voice, “I am certain you could not have known—and I urge you to think no more on that subject. Instead, consider this—we are not at an inn!”
“Oh, believe me, I did consider that, lovely Lizzy.” That night they very much enjoyed discarding reserve during their lovemaking. Thus it was that the newlyweds spent hours in mutual abandon.