Chapter 1.24 #3
“Oh, I am very good at compliments,” answered Becky, suddenly talkative again as she felt herself on secure ground. “Everybody knows that. But you should know my name is Becky, not Miss Rebecca.”
Elizabeth decided to interrupt, as a talkative Becky could be a dangerously voluble one. “Lady Matlock, please forgive us. My cousin can become very…forward when she likes someone, and she tends to speak about many things that are not entirely proper.”
“Is that so, Becky? Well, I have always liked girls who hold decided opinions and know how to talk about many things.”
“Do you let your girls talk about many things?” asked Becky, ignoring both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, her interest completely drawn to her new acquaintance.
“Unfortunately, Becky, I have no girls—only two boys.”
“Becky, Lady Matlock is Colonel Fitzwilliam’s mother,” explained Mr Darcy.
The girl looked from him to the lady, and back to him, and then her face brightened in revelation. “Oh…you are trying to trick me like my brothers. She cannot be the colonel’s mother!”
“Why do you say so, Becky? Lady Matlock is the colonel’s mother,” said Elizabeth.
“She cannot be! Because she is beautiful and the colonel is old! He is as old as Mr Darcy.”
A disconcerted expression spread over Mr Darcy’s face. “So I am old now, Becky? A few days ago, you said I was pretty!”
“You are pretty! But you are old too, and so is the colonel.”
Lady Matlock could hardly hold back her chuckle. “Thank you, Becky, that is another lovely compliment. But the colonel is indeed my son.”
The girl looked at her incredulously, but the lady’s countenance convinced her she was sincere, and Becky decided that somewhere there must have been a great mistake.
“I would suggest returning to the house, Aunt; it is cold and we have been outdoors for some time now.”
Mr Darcy offered his arm to Lady Matlock, but she declined. “I can walk by myself, Darcy; do not worry. You should offer your arm to Elizabeth. I am sure you would rather have it that way.”
He tried to protest but knew there was little use. He bent again to hoist Becky into his arms, but to his surprise, she also refused. “I can walk for myself too; do not worry.”
“Then shall we walk together, Becky?” Lady Matlock offered her hand and the girl took it instantly.
“But Becky, are you not tired?” Darcy enquired. “Why did you insist that I carry you before?”
“Because I am spoiled, and I was too lazy to walk on my feet,” answered the girl in complete honesty. Lady Matlock burst into peals of laughter, hurriedly covering her mouth with her gloved hand.
The two of them set off together while Mr Darcy and Elizabeth followed, exchanging worried glances.
“So, Becky, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I have! I have two brothers and a sister. My sister is very beautiful, and she will be a proper lady, but my brothers are insufferable.”
Elizabeth tried to censure her language, but the girl was encouraged by Lady Matlock’s laugh and considered it as tacit approval, so she paid little attention to her cousin.
“I am sure you are a proper girl too,” offered Lady Matlock.
“No, I am not. I cannot be proper because I like to play too much. Proper girls do not play in the mud; that is what Mrs Taylor said.”
“Well then, you will be a proper girl when you grow up.”
“Yes, but I do not want to grow up. When you grow up you are not allowed to do anything.”
“Are you sure, Becky? As far as I know, adults are allowed to do many more things than children.”
The whole conversation—and the little girl’s company—delighted and amused Lady Matlock exceedingly.
“No, you are not allowed to do anything important: you cannot be carried in someone’s arms when you are tired, you cannot kiss somebody if you want to, you cannot cry, and you cannot eat quite so many cakes…”
“Now I understand,” answered the lady as seriously as she could. “And I agree with you, Becky.”
“You do? I must say I like you very much,” declared the girl, satisfied to have another ally.
“Becky!” Elizabeth thought it proper to interfere, as the girl had become dangerously familiar with Lady Matlock.
“Yes, Lizzy? Did I say anything wrong?” She lifted her eyes to her ladyship, explaining, “I said I like you, and that is good, you know?”
“I know, sweetie.” The lady then turned to Elizabeth, smiling reassuringly. “My dear, your cousin is adorable!”
Lady Matlock took the little hand and continued to walk towards the house while their conversation grew more animated, and Elizabeth’s embarrassment joined Mr Darcy’s amusement.
“Do you know my cousin got married yesterday?”
“Indeed? And was she a beautiful bride?”
“Yes, she was. She is always beautiful. But she is very silly, you know? My mother said she married a rascal. What is a rascal? I thought she married Mr Wickham!”
Her cascade of words surprised Lady Matlock, and she did not know whether to laugh or to change the subject. She was beginning to understand Elizabeth’s earlier warning.
“Is rascal good?”
“No, Becky, it is not good.”
“I thought so. Mr Wickham is not good either, you know?”
“Yes, I know,” she whispered, but the girl heard her.
“You do not like him, either? I am so happy! Lydia said he is handsome! Handsome is good, you know, but I do not think he is handsome. The colonel is handsome; I can tell that. And Mr Bingley is handsome though he has blond hair. But Mr Wickham has snake eyes.”
“‘Snake eyes’? What are snake eyes, Becky?”
“Snake eyes are the eyes of a snake,” explained the girl, clearly surprised that her ladyship did not understand something so obvious. “I do not like snakes. I am so pleased he left. Lizzy did not like him either.”
She turned to watch her cousin walking with Mr Darcy and whispered again to her companion. “But I do like Mr Darcy…and so does Lizzy! She will marry him, you know? I think Mr Darcy is pretty! And he has dimples, did you see? Lizzy said dimples are good. I like dimples too!”
Lady Matlock could not remember the last time she had laughed aloud in the middle of a park. Elizabeth was torn between joining Mr Darcy and his aunt in their amusement and hiding from embarrassment at the girl’s words. She was pleased when the Darcys’ house came into view.
She walked silently on Mr Darcy’s arm, paying close attention to the conversation between Lady Matlock and her young cousin.
Her mortification at the mention of Mr Wickham was so high that she believed she could not feel worse.
Nevertheless, the name brought a sudden idea into her head, an idea that grew stronger with each passing moment.
She cast a quick glance at Mr Darcy, and he looked back at her, smiling.
He was content and relaxed, obviously enjoying himself and their walk.
She knew she should restrain herself. The rational part of her acknowledged that the price for satisfying a mere curiosity might be too high to be worth it, but she could not bear being ignorant any longer.
She must find out what it was that he would not talk to her about.
The uncertainty made her anxious, eager, and impulsive.
She ignored any second thoughts or prudence.
“Lady Ellen, will there be many guests at the ball?”
“Yes, dear. I invited everyone I consider important enough to make your acquaintance at this early stage of your engagement. However, some of them declined the invitation and with good reason. It not being the Season, most of them are not in town, so for them the distance might make it difficult to attend in this weather.”
“I see…” She did not know how to continue her inquiry, her courage slowly falling as the gazes of both Mr Darcy and Lady Matlock rested upon her.
“Elizabeth, are you nervous about the ball?”
“I confess I am a little.”
“It is understandable, but do not worry. We and your relatives shall be there. Nobody would dare to be unkind to you in my house, and if they are, I authorise you to throw them out.”
Her playful allusion to Lady Catherine made Darcy smile, but Elizabeth seemed not to notice it.
“Are Lord and Lady Hothfield among the guests, by any chance?”
The effect of her words was immediate: she felt Mr Darcy’s arm stiffen, and though she did not dare meet his eyes, she could feel his intense gaze on her. However, Lady Matlock seemed pleased by the question.
“Why, yes they are, and I am delighted they have accepted the invitation though they do not usually socialise much. Are you acquainted with them?”
“No. But their names were mentioned yesterday at my uncle’s house.”
“Indeed? Then perhaps your aunt and uncle have met them before?”
“No, my family is not acquainted with them either. It was Mr Wickham who mentioned them and inquired about their presence.”
Every word she spoke made Mr Darcy tense.
She was close enough to him to feel his unease though he continued to walk at his usual pace.
She raised her eyes to him, but he was not looking at her any more.
His stern countenance was unreadable. No feeling or reaction showed on his face; only his lips slightly pursed together betrayed him.
“Wickham? What did he have to say about my guests? And what interest could he have in Lord and Lady Hothfield?” She paused a moment and then offered the answer herself.
“Oh, it must have been mere curiosity about Lady Hothfield, and I, for one, can understand it. After being so long the centre of attention, her sudden retirement naturally raised people’s curiosity and deservedly so.
After all, she was not such a famous actress for nothing. ”