Chapter 19
She could hardly restrain herself from running down the stairs to the dining room as she usually did at Longbourn.
“Thank you!” she murmured to her uncle, who was already seated at the head of the table waiting for them.
He was reading a journal, and as she entered, she was struck for a moment by how much he resembled her father, not only in appearance but also in expression, particularly when he saw her or her sisters, and his smile illuminated his face.
“So you spent some valuable time with the duchess yesterday evening?” he asked with good humour.
“Yes, I hope it is a good beginning.”
“Are you more assured, more relaxed?”
Elizabeth sighed and smiled. “Yes. I can finally see the world around me.”
The first person she noticed was Andrew Kendall, who helped her into her seat and asked how she had spent her morning.
She blushed at his smile, which seemed to ask a different question altogether, one concerning a beautiful night and a sky illuminated from time to time by a magnificent moon.
His voice was deep and melodious, and Elizabeth did not remember noticing it during the previous evening’s dinner.
Her own concerns had occupied her too completely.
She wondered whether she had appeared cold or indifferent.
To compensate for that former neglect, she invited him to sit beside her.
“You were very sad last evening, Miss Bennet,” he said, confirming her suspicion that she had not been an engaging companion. Yet again, his playful eyes seemed to speak of the balcony and the moonlit garden.
“I am sorry,” she replied sincerely.
“I know it cannot be easy to adapt to life here,” he said, gesturing discreetly towards the room, which represented not merely the house but their place in an unfamiliar society.
A spontaneous friendship arose in her heart.
The previous night had enchanted her, but it was more than that.
Unbidden, her memory returned to Mr Darcy at their first meeting.
Much as she wished to forget it, the image remained vivid.
How arrogant he had seemed, how conscious of his own importance beside the inhabitants of rural Hertfordshire.
Mr Kendall and Mr Darcy occupied positions not entirely dissimilar, both being grandsons of noblemen, yet how differently they conducted themselves.
Whilst Darcy had preserved his proud and prejudiced opinion of her family long after declaring his love, Andrew Kendall had been open and courteous from the beginning.
Elizabeth suspected it was simply his nature to offer friendship and pleasant thoughts to those around him.
Mr Darcy had eventually learned to enjoy her father’s company.
However, that had happened chiefly because Uncle Thomas was such a commanding presence, and the two gentlemen resembled one another in many respects.
“Do the ladies require a companion today?” Andrew Kendall asked his grandmother eagerly.
“No, my dear, you may accompany Mr Bennet to his club. He has kindly agreed to introduce you.”
Despite her growing appreciation of the young gentleman, Elizabeth suspected that Uncle Thomas’s introduction consisted chiefly of paying his membership. Then she checked herself. She was determined to judge both men fairly and not favour one whilst finding fault with the other.
Yet she knew very little of Mr Kendall’s circumstances.
He might be perfectly wealthy and have no need of her uncle’s assistance.
Stealing a glance in his direction, she saw a handsome young man with a pleasant smile, speaking politely to her mother.
The day before, she had scarcely paid him any attention.
She had expected to meet a child, and her own worries had prevented her from observing him properly.
He was younger than Darcy, nearer her own age than that of a settled gentleman.
Though perfectly well-mannered, he seemed more approachable than most of the gentlemen she had met in London.
There was an openness about him that immediately put people at ease.
Yet she had also to remember that they were in her uncle’s house and not at Netherfield, though she found it difficult to imagine Andrew Kendall becoming conceited because of his grandfather’s title.
“And what do the ladies intend to do this morning?” he asked his grandmother, apparently more interested in their plans than in his introduction to a prestigious London club.
“Madame Clotilde is expecting us. She wishes to present her latest arrivals to these lovely young ladies.”
As none of them knew who Madame Clotilde was, the duchess explained with her usual grace.
“Madame Clotilde came from Paris some twenty years ago. She claims to be the widow of a comte who perished during the French disorder of 1789.”
Elizabeth concealed a smile behind her napkin. The duchess’s use of the word disorder to describe what the French called a revolution amused her, though apparently nobody else at the table shared her amusement.
“But it matters very little who she once was. What matters is who she is now, and she is the leader of fashion in London society.”
“What about your club, Uncle?” Elizabeth asked with great curiosity. She would gladly have exchanged ten visits to Madame Clotilde for a single opportunity to accompany the gentlemen.
“We must thank Mr Darcy, who introduced me to Brooks’s, at St James’s Street.”
Thomas was cautious when discussing such matters, as they were not entirely welcome subjects at the duchess’s table. He had already told them that the late duke had lost a considerable portion of his fortune at White’s, a club Henrietta would certainly have forbidden her grandson to frequent.
Elizabeth remembered her uncle’s stories very well, for she enjoyed them more than almost anything else. He had told them that those who frequented White’s were known as ‘the gamesters of White’s’, whilst Mr Jonathan Swift had once called the club ‘the bane of half the English nobility.’
“White’s is famous for its bow window on the ground floor, where Beau Brummell sits, influencing fashion and those admitted to the exclusive Almack’s.”
They all knew of Almack’s, as most of England did, but it remained exciting to discuss a place where they themselves might now be admitted.
“A place not so different from any ballroom in the country, except that people make a far greater fuss about it,” Uncle Thomas observed, with a hint of amusement that only Elizabeth seemed to notice.
They had heard stories of Almack’s for years, but never imagined coming so close to its famous Wednesday assemblies.
Beau Brummell, Madame Clotilde, Almack’s, Brooks’s at sixty St James’s Street; all belonged to a world entirely inaccessible to them only a few months earlier.
Elizabeth was grateful for her uncle’s efforts, though she did not consider that part of the fortune the most valuable.
She was happy that her family had a secure home and pleased by the dowry he had settled upon them.
Still, she had no intention of losing herself in a succession of parties and visits.
She enjoyed the theatre and the opera, not for the sake of being seen, but for the pleasure of the performance itself.
She would certainly require a suitable wardrobe.
Otherwise, she hoped to continue living much as she had at Longbourn: enjoying meaningful conversations with her father and now her uncle, reading, walking, and seeking out interesting company.
In a city as vast as London, there must surely be people interested in more than fashion, Almack’s, and gossip.
“You will all gain something from London,” Uncle Thomas said, “and I hope each of you will enjoy its entertainments.”
Elizabeth nodded. It was indeed pleasant to discover a new society, though she still entertained doubts about being accepted. Whether the duchess’s influence would prove sufficient remained to be seen.
“One evening this week we shall attend the Haymarket Theatre,” Uncle Thomas continued, “and next Wednesday we have been invited to dine with Mr Darcy.”
He spoke as neutrally as possible, though Elizabeth detected a trace of amusement. He understood very well what might develop between the young gentlemen and appeared far too interested in observing it.
“And who is Mr Darcy, sir, if I may ask?”
Thomas waited for Elizabeth to answer, but she devoted herself entirely to her breakfast and seemed determined to remain silent.
“He is a friend of Miss Bennet,” Thomas replied, “and lately a friend of mine as well.”
Elizabeth was surprised by the declaration. Most likely, her uncle had spent some time in Mr Darcy’s company after their journey to London two weeks earlier.
“He is the grandson of the late Earl of Matlock,” Thomas continued, this time addressing the duchess. “Do you know the family?”
“Yes, I know them by name, but during the last twenty years, I have seen very few people beyond a small circle of close friends. People of my age attend no balls.”
“Such a pity, your grace,” Lydia said. But her words lacked their usual tone. Respect and admiration were evident in her manner, and the old lady smiled.
“My dear, some activities are suited only to the young.”
Elizabeth was relieved. From what her uncle had told her, the duchess’s role was to introduce them into London society, yet it seemed she herself had lived rather secluded from it.
“But as your uncle wishes you to be introduced into London society, we shall find some agreeable families to meet and some balls to attend.”
“And the theatre, perhaps, your grace,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, of course, my dear. At this time of year, London is rather deserted, as everybody prefers the country to the heat of the city. Still, I think we shall find some places to visit, and some plays worth seeing.”
“Do you like balls, Mr Kendall?” Mrs Bennet asked, and even she seemed changed.
The young gentleman hesitated, and his grandmother smiled.