Court No Evil （Third Person）
Though Elizabeth obviously could not know except through second-hand knowledge, the leased townhouse she shared with Anne de Bourgh had much more in common with Pemberley than Rosings.
The walls were light cream with alternate accents that the agent boasted were designed by a master from Paris.
Anne believed this was probably hyperbole, but she liked the layout, the arrangement, and the decorations of the townhouse immensely and did not care if they had been designed by a beggar from Rat’s Castle.
Rosings was designed to intimidate, Pemberley to impress, and that house for comfortable living.
Few changes were required to accommodate Elizabeth.
Fewer than a dozen sharp corners had to disappear, but otherwise they found the house remarkably suitable with little effort or expense.
Elizabeth was also quite happy with the townhouse on that August morning, though for different reasons.
She very much appreciated that for the most part the furniture stayed out of her way, and she simply liked the sound of the house.
There was something about the way the music of the entirely insufficient pianoforte sounded in the room that brought her pleasure on occasion.
She even liked that, on days when she was not in a mood for solitary reflection, she heard much of what went on in the house.
Lacking eyesight, she missed the stimulation most people took for granted, and wanted to reach for all she could get—without becoming a meddlesome busybody, of course.
As to the pianoforte, that was a mixed blessing.
True to her word, Mr Hopkinson found a master and a pianoforte tuner the day after Mr Read met Anne.
Though the mistress of the house was tempted to simply purchase a new instrument, Elizabeth convinced her otherwise.
She knew Anne could easily afford one but did not want to put too much pressure on herself to perform when she was not at all certain she could.
If there was no outrageous expense, and the pianoforte was not of superior quality, then she just might be able to live with the sounds she made until she improved.
A few days later, the pianoforte was tuned, and Mr Hopkinson had even acquired a master.
Mr Lambert came with good references, and he convinced Anne of his worthiness by sitting down to the newly tuned instrument, pulling a blindfold from his pocket, and playing a song that brought tears to the ladies’ eyes.
He was engaged immediately, and Elizabeth had now spent three weeks under his direction.
Elizabeth found the experience somewhere between rewarding and vexing.
Mr Lambert had very pragmatically taken a file and carved a few notches in the corner of the keyboard and a few keys, which helped her establish her initial position more easily.
After that, it was a matter of practise practise practise practise practise.
Unfortunately, one or two sessions would produce something roughly akin to music, and two or three of the others would make her feel like she should revert to beating the keys with her head.
At least her head was nearly fully healed.
McKeen was a man on a mission to return the lady to good health.
He was a great proponent of the efficacy of gin for all injuries.
Whether the gin was poured on a wound to prevent festering, poured into the mouth to dull pain, or lit on fire to warm a cold room; there was really no problem that could not be improved with a spot of gin.
Elizabeth submitted willingly to all the aforementioned remedies, with the possible exception of the fire, and true to the man’s word, her wound healed with nary a scar, (either that, or every female in the house was perfectly willing to lie).
Elizabeth had just finished a better than average session at her nemesis, and used the age-old trick of simply walking through the room with her hand trailing along the wall to work her way back to the parlour.
She expected Anne to join her for tea, and thought she just might be prevailed upon to take her chances on the qualities of Mrs Sherman’s lemon tarts.
Elizabeth was absolutely not eavesdropping—she really was not—but was it really her fault that her hearing was so acute?
Mr Read, over the previous fortnight, had taken to using the study occasionally for meetings with his business associates when the townhouse was more convenient than his own lodgings.
In England that would have been somewhat forward, but the townhouse was not in England, and Anne was happy to give him the opportunity.
Elizabeth was walking not particularly near the library when she heard a conversation with a gentleman proposing some business with Mr Read.
There was nothing special about the words, but something about the tone of voice and manner of speaking, made her stop a respectable distance from the slightly open door to listen without shame for several minutes.
Like many people, she was a master of contradictions, and she reckoned that since she was a good bit farther away than a normal person could hear the conversation from, she was not eavesdropping.
She was simply walking through the house, and really, you could not expect a blind person to run about willy-nilly at full speed.
After she heard her fill, she continued at a much faster pace than her usual, in search of Anne.
“I need you to speak with the man meeting Mr Read before his guest departs,” she said with some agitation and without preamble.
Anne regarded her with confusion. It was not unusual for Elizabeth to speak nonsense, though she usually arrived at the point eventually.
“Lizzy, can you be a little more… specific?”
Elizabeth sighed in exasperation.
Anne continued, “On what subject should I speak to him? Why speak to an associate of Mr Read?”
Elizabeth let the tension of her last practice session ebb and hurried to communicate her wishes.
“You may talk about anything you choose. I wish you to speak with him because I believe the man is of a kind with George Wickham. I do not trust him, though I cannot say specifically why, nor am I convinced of my conclusion. I overheard enough of their conversation to set my teeth on edge, but I would not condemn a man based on that alone.”
Anne was pondering this news when Mr Read brought his associate from the library to introduce him.
“Miss de Bourgh, Miss Bennet, may I present Mr Gillingham, an associate who has proposed a certain business with me that sounds most promising—most promising indeed.”
“Mr Gillingham, a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
The ladies, in their usual custom, offered nearly identical responses simultaneously. By long-standing tradition, they also curtseyed in unison.
Anne studied the man. “If it is not impertinent, I wonder if you might enlighten us as to your business, Mr Gillingham. Miss Bennet and I are more curious than is common for women.”
“It is not impertinent; not at all. Mr Read seeks to build a canal, and I am in the business of persuading other men of means to participate in the venture. We were simply determining how we might assist each other.”
“And how do you go about that, sir?”
“Well, you see, I am engaged in trade with the territories, and I have certain contacts that might prove useful—men of industry, men of importance, men of stature—that sort of thing.”
Nothing he said was in any way wrong, per se…
but a chill ran through Anne at his words, which she had listened to while studiously averting her gaze.
She might never have truly detected falseness.
He was well-dressed, possessed engaging manners, sounded intelligent, and carried an air of trustworthiness.
When he looked at them directly and spoke, he appeared sincere.
When she looked away and only listened, he lost that ability.
Anne supposed she would have thought very well of the man had she not been warned by Lizzy.
Of course, she was never entirely certain she did not simply adopt Lizzy’s thoughts without bothering to form her own; but she supposed that when Lizzy held a strong opinion, she was willing to accept her word, absent compelling proof to the contrary.
“Very interesting, Mr Gillingham. Are you connected with men in the legislature, or in industry? Perhaps you are involved in trade, or farming?”
“Ladies, I am not involved in anything that is particularly ladies’ business, or that would interest you.
I am sure you would find it dull. I am involved in all those things you mentioned, and I have many contacts who can benefit Mr Read.
We are simply working out the specific ways we might help each other.
Some will support Mr Read’s proposal, while others will stand in opposition.
It takes experience to know which is which, though, as they are not always forthcoming. ”
Neither Anne nor Lizzy could completely condemn him because he tried to exclude women from business. By that standard, hardly any man in the world passed muster. They would not take him to task for that transgression, but something about the way he said it gave them pause.
They conversed for a few more minutes, the ladies becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Mr Read noticed the ladies’ nervousness, and immediately yet courteously escorted Mr Gillingham out, returning for tea as was his custom. In fact, regarding courtship, Mr Read was a most diligent suitor. He came early and left late, but nobody complained.
“Mr Read, Lizzy has something to say about Mr Gillingham, and I must say I concur.”