Chapter 19 #2
“Do not hesitate to tell the truth, dear grandson.”
Only then did Andrew Kendall answer, somewhat embarrassed. “I am sorry, Mrs Bennet, but I do not much like balls.”
“Oh, what a pity. I am sure London could change your mind!” Lydia spoke, and once again Elizabeth was astonished by her behaviour.
Restrained yet friendly, it differed greatly from her usual habit of speaking whatever came into her head.
It suggested that the education they had all received at home had not been entirely wasted upon Lydia after all.
“And what do you like to do, Mr Kendall?” Elizabeth asked with genuine curiosity. A young gentleman who did not enjoy balls interested her. “Perhaps the theatre?”
But it was immediately apparent that the theatre was not amongst his favourite amusements either.
“Ayr is very small compared with London. I believe there are neighbourhoods here larger than my entire town. We led a very simple life, Miss Bennet. Unfortunately, my mother died many years ago.” He hesitated and glanced anxiously towards his grandmother, who was struggling to keep tears from falling.
“My dear,” said the old lady, “do not look at me in that way. It is as painful for you to speak of your dear mother as it is for me to hear of her, but I enjoy learning about her as much as you can bear to tell me. Never doubt that.”
It was a peculiar situation. They were strangers, yet Thomas Bennet had brought them together almost as if they were one family.
The duchess’s house now belonged to the Bennets in all but name, and Uncle Thomas had made no secret of his intention to place the house and the duchess’s other properties in her father’s possession.
Elizabeth felt sorry for Andrew Kendall, who found himself at the centre of such an unusual arrangement.
Yet he carried himself remarkably well. Tactful and friendly, he had conquered everybody in the house.
Even Elizabeth regarded him with a certain sympathy, though the moonlit garden had certainly contributed to that favourable impression.
Yet she decided, for once, to be more attentive and form an impression only after more than a few sporadic interactions, rather than as she had done in the past.
“I think, dear grandson, that the best way to avoid embarrassment is to be frank around this table. All of us,” the duchess said gently, stroking his hand.
Thomas Bennet nodded. “Yes, your grace, that is precisely what I intended to propose.” His voice carried such warmth and admiration that Mrs Bennet smiled.
She understood perfectly why he showed no interest in meeting other ladies.
He was still in love with the duchess, and she was not the only person at the table who recognised it.
The duchess nodded readily, willing to begin.
“Sophia was my only daughter and the mother of this dear child, who resembles her exactly.” She did not hesitate to continue with the part of the story already familiar to them.
“My husband possessed a disastrous vice: gambling. Sophia left home many years ago, and I respected her wish not to be sought out. She did not correspond with either the duke or me. Although it caused me great pain, it was an understandable response to certain events that occurred whilst she lived under our roof and caused her considerable suffering.”
A perfect example of how a lady should speak in public, Elizabeth observed with some amusement, though her respect for the duchess remained profound.
“She was a wonderful mother,” Andrew Kendall murmured warmly, lowering his eyes to his plate. “But unfortunately, she died far too young.”
“Yes. I learned of her death only when my grandson replied to my letter. It caused me tremendous pain, but I also had the joy of learning of his existence and then welcoming him here.”
Her grateful gaze rested upon Thomas, whose invitation had brought Andrew Kendall to London. After so troubled a life, the duchess had at last found a measure of peace.
Knowing her uncle, Elizabeth felt certain he would take care of the young man as well.
Yet she checked herself. Conclusions ought not to be reached before the facts were known.
Andrew Kendall might be the son of a prosperous Scottish tradesman who had come to London solely to know his grandmother.
In the end, however, his fortune mattered little.
He was a pleasant, kind, and agreeable company, and she had enjoyed his presence from their very first breakfast together.
Yet Elizabeth missed Jane. She longed for her sister and for Jane’s ability to perceive qualities in people that others overlooked.
One thing at least seemed certain. Andrew Kendall had not come to London in pursuit of his grandparents’ fortune, for no such fortune remained.
His grandmother had been entirely honest with him regarding her circumstances.
Elizabeth liked him all the better for making the journey from Scotland merely to bring happiness to an elderly lady.
Again, the two gentlemen presented themselves to her mind.
Darcy represented the ton and a world she had never known.
Andrew Kendall belonged to a small town, much like the Bennets, and had been raised in a family that paid little attention to its ducal connections.
She loved Mr Darcy; that feeling no longer admitted denial.
Yet she sometimes wondered whether a life with him would truly suit her.
Henrietta Osbourne had chosen a man she did not love because she desired a life of splendour within a glittering society.
She had set aside her feelings and proved that it was possible to choose with the head rather than the heart.
Her failure remained a cruel trick of fate, for nobody could have known her husband’s true character beforehand.
Elizabeth herself would never have suspected Mr Wickham’s real nature until she learned the truth concerning Miss Darcy.
She might easily have married him and discovered his faults only after the wedding.
∞∞∞
An hour after breakfast, as she descended the stairs, voices reached her from the parlour. Upon entering, she found Mr Darcy and Mr Kendall standing side by side in deep conversation.
It was the perfect opportunity to observe that both gentlemen possessed a proud bearing, were equally handsome, and were interested in her. Their conversation ceased immediately upon her appearance.
Thomas, far more experienced in such matters than Elizabeth, noticed at once that courtesy had replaced whatever discussion had occupied them before.
He was hardly surprised by Darcy, who viewed every gentleman as a potential rival.
Kendall’s behaviour interested him far more.
The young man had known Elizabeth for only a short time.
Could he already be in love with her? And what of Elizabeth herself?
Seeing her with Darcy at Netherfield, Thomas had considered them perfectly suited to one another.
Yet his own past taught him that certainty in such matters was an illusion.
Kendall had known her for only two days.
Then again, he remembered that it had taken the duke only a single glance at Henrietta to lure her away from him.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said, curtsying. Her heart was considerably happier to see him than her expression revealed.
“Miss Bennet, welcome to London.”
“Thank you, sir.”
For a moment, she could think of nothing more to say.
“How is Miss Darcy?”
“She is well and hopes to see you and your family on Wednesday for dinner, as Mr Bennet has graciously accepted in your name.”
A momentary lapse in attention was all he required to catch her eye. The look he gave her spoke of absence endured and happiness regained. Elizabeth’s answering smile assured him that his affection had not become unwelcome.
But that was all.
Once conversation resumed around them, no further opportunity for private exchange presented itself. The gentlemen departed together for the club, whilst the ladies embarked upon a day of leisure and shopping.
Darcy was not pleased to spend the day with Kendall, though he admitted that keeping him in sight was preferable to knowing him near Elizabeth.
The sudden appearance of this grandson irritated him, whilst the thought that they were living under the same roof was enough to disturb his peace entirely.
Not long after arriving at the club, Darcy discovered that Kendall was unfamiliar with the expectations attached to being the grandson of a duke. More than once, he found him awkward. Yet he immediately reproached himself for the judgement. Perhaps it was merely prejudice.
His confidence remained fixed upon Mr Thomas Bennet, who was not easily deceived. Elizabeth and her sisters were precious to him. Nevertheless, Darcy would have preferred not to have a rival for Elizabeth’s favour.