Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Expecting the return of Mr Bingley to Netherfield in December, Jane was disappointed.
She learnt through the servants that Netherfield was closed, and its master was not expected imminently.
This was confirmed by two letters from Miss Caroline Bingley informing her they would not return from London and hinting at an attachment between Mr Bingley and the young sister of Mr Darcy.
To Mrs Bennet, such news could only be a blessing.
She told her sister of her great relief in having been spared the pain of seeing her most beautiful daughter in such an unequal match.
Mrs Philips privately thought that Jane would fare very well with such a handsome and kind gentleman who was much like Jane in terms of temper, but she did not share this thought with her sister.
Elizabeth was able to raise Jane’s spirits about the matter of Miss Bingley’s letters.
“Those are Miss Bingley’s words, not his, and I daresay she will sing a different tune once she has learnt of your connexion to the house of Courtenay.
” Elizabeth giggled, feeling a bit uncharitable but unable to resist. “Then we shall tease her and refuse her entry into our society, saying that, since her brother is nearly wed, we have no use for him in our assemblies.”
“Oh, Lizzy.” Jane smiled through her downcast countenance. “You would never do any such thing.”
“No, I would not,” she agreed. “If I began by excluding those who only liked me for my standing in society, I should soon have no one left to call upon.”
Despite her anxiety over going to London, she found it far easier in December to be teasing and happy than she had in some time. Her beloved son had come to Hertfordshire and nothing could have brought her more joy.
Henry was always a welcome addition to the family circle.
Although Mrs Bennet found the noise of a young child rather trying for her nerves, Mr Bennet was fond of his young grandson, and his four aunts eagerly embraced the chance to spoil him and indulge his every whim.
There was nary a moment when someone was not putting themselves forward to play with him or read to him or feed him some little treat.
Young Henry loved the country, remaining out of doors until his cheeks were painted a scarlet red and his nose ran unceasingly.
The decree on Elizabeth’s identity would lift on December 31 and the New Year would bring with it a new life for Elizabeth and her son. She found herself in the grip of a feeling that was largely anxiety but also eagerness to be a proper mother for her son.
Watching him caper about in the chaos of Longbourn, she hoped it would not be too great a change for him to go from the Gardiner household, where he was one of several children, to hers, where he would be the one and only.
Yet another reason to get this marriage business settled: Henry needs a brother or sister with whom to run about.
On December 30, a caravan of carriages set out for London: one contained Elizabeth, Jane, young Henry, and his nurse; another had the Gardiner family; and a third carried all their servants. The journey was easy, and by the middle of the afternoon, Elizabeth found herself at Towton Hall.
Towton Hall was completely unchanged from the beautiful, elegant home it had been when she had lived there last. It was an exceedingly grand place, reflective of the large fortune of the Courtenays, and was decorated accordingly.
Some of the rooms were a bit uselessly fine for Elizabeth’s taste, but she was not inclined to change it as, when she married again, she would spend little time there.
Henry had thought that many of the furnishings of his parents’ home were rather gaudy, and in some manner, it soothed her to remember his comments.
“Francis told me they had the very same wall covering in a brothel he favoured,” and “Try that chair there; I shall not swear it is the most uncomfortable in all of London, but I daresay it comes close.” If those items were replaced, then his comments and their laughter would be forgot, and so she would leave them.
Darcy remained in town for the Festive Season.
He had believed he might prefer some time to himself before the Season commenced, but the time drew long.
He thought of Miss Elizabeth Bennet far too often and in a manner far too familiar.
He found his mind often occupied with dreams of not just seeing her in town but being with her.
Darcy informed Lady Matlock that he desired her assistance in securing a wife. She had said little about it, but he had no doubt that a full scheme was already in motion. Some days, he wondered whether he would live to regret it.
His cousin Viscount Saye was the first to arrive back in London after spending Christmas at Matlock.
Although five years older than Darcy, he was yet unwed, much to the consternation of his parents.
Darcy suspected an alliance was in the making and decided to speak of it to him.
His cousin would understand his dilemma even if Saye was a bit of a rattle—and certainly a rake—and might disparage him for fancying himself in love with some girl he met in the country.
“So you are returned early,” Darcy remarked nonchalantly when Saye called. “I wonder why.”
Saye shrugged, his eyes on the fire in Darcy’s study. “Heard of a bit of a thing here in town and wanted to see to it. I cannot abide missing a good party.”
“No ladies to call upon?”
Saye’s eyes went to Darcy, his gaze wary. “What have you heard?”
Darcy was inscrutable, doing nothing but staring at his cousin, who finally gave way.
“My mother wished me to call on Miss Redgrave.”
“She is a handsome girl.”
“Very pretty,” Saye agreed. “With a figure a man could admire for hours.”
“Niece of Lord Arundel if I am not mistaken.”
“Her father is Sir David Redgrave of Rokeby Park in York, and her mother’s brother is the earl. My father is keen for the alliance. Arundel has much influence in Parliament. The two of them together could likely accomplish anything they wished.”
Darcy studied him as he spoke. “So will you…?”
“I suppose I must. She is an amiable girl. A bit dull, but perhaps she will be less so once we are married and she does not feel such anxiety to say what she thinks I wish to hear.”
Without meaning to, Darcy winced. Seeing Saye make a choice that he himself would soon make was disheartening and more than a little frightening.
Saye observed his wince and spoke with more than a touch of defensiveness. “It is the responsibility we bear as first sons. We get all the fun of fortune and position as well as the smothering obligations that come with it.”
Darcy did not reply; he rose and went to stoke the fire then returned to his seat. He crossed his legs and stared off to the side for a moment. He then picked up his brandy, took a drink, and set it down. Saye’s eyes were on him throughout.
Darcy finally spoke. “You are reconciled to it then?”
With some surprise, Saye replied, “I have known my life long that this is how it is. Perhaps it is easier to stomach for I am nearly five years your senior. I felt the hangman place his noose about my neck some time ago, and I have grown accustomed to the feeling.”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“In love?” Saye considered for a moment. “No, I do not believe so. You?”
Darcy did not answer for a moment, which caused Saye to chuckle gleefully. “Darcy! You, in love? I can scarce believe it. Who is she? Will you offer for her?”
“I cannot.”
“No? Why ever not?”
“She is a lady,” he began, wondering whether he was mad to confess to Saye, who commonly lacked both sympathy and discretion.
However, it would bring relief to give voice to it, and he had hope that, in so doing, the curse would lift.
“The second daughter of a country gentleman of little consequence. The father has two thousand a year; the mother’s people are in trade.
They are connected to no one of consequence, and I loved her the first moment I saw her. ”
Saye regarded him sceptically. “First moment you saw her? Hardly likely.”
“I have always thought the notion of love at first sight an absurdity, but there it was, and I could not deny it. It was as if I had searched for her my entire life, and at last, I found her. Each time we met, I expected my feelings would be disproved, but it was not so—quite the opposite in fact.”
“Are your affections returned in equal measure?”
Darcy laughed. “No. Mostly she seemed rather indifferent to me.”
“There you have it,” Saye pronounced smugly. “You do not love her; you only want what you cannot have. No doubt, had she forwarded herself to you as ladies of the ton have done, you would be disinterested. It was an art like any other, only one less commonly employed.”
Darcy drummed his fingers slowly on the arm of the seat while he considered it. “She does not seem the kind to act in that manner.”
“All ladies are that kind,” Saye pronounced with authority. He drained the last of his drink. “In any case, whether she sought to secure you is immaterial. She cannot have you, and you cannot have her. Unless you think she might be your mistress?”
Darcy gave him a disgusted look.
Saye held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I am only asking. I do not know the lady.”
“That is why I am finally allowing your mother to find me a wife. I must put aside fanciful notions of loving a woman so beneath me and do as my duty compels.”
“That you must,” Saye agreed. “Both of us at last succumbing to my mother’s machinations—how pleased she must be. Pray, do not mention your farm girl from Hertfordshire to my mother. You will see no sympathy in that quarter. She is determined to make a brilliant match for you.”
“I have no desire to incite the wrath of your mother or sit under the sound of your father expounding on duty and obligation.”