Chapter Seven #3
Darcy scanned the room and saw a gentleman who bore a striking resemblance to Miss Denham; Sir Anthony was indeed recommending himself to Miss Bennet, and seemed so fixated on her that he paid Georgiana no notice at all.
Richard was now answering Miss Denham’s onslaught of questions, and so Darcy continued to observe the crowd of guests as they conversed in small groups, meandering through the room as they decided who to sit with next.
Naturally, he found Anne in the crowd, and as if feeling his gaze upon her, she turned over her shoulder and stared back at him.
Her eyes darted between him and the pretty woman beside him.
“May I sit beside you, Mr. Darcy? I know it is forward of me to ask, but your cousin has told me enough about you while you were observing our companions that I am certain I might amuse myself by confirming the veracity of his claims.” Miss Denham offered him a pleasant smile, and Darcy nodded his head before pulling a chair out for the lady.
He had only just taken the seat beside her when Anne materialized on his other side, and across the ballroom he could see Lady Catherine still pursuing her daughter.
Richard waggled his eyebrows and accepted a glass of wine from a footman before sitting across the table from Darcy as if determined to get a good seat at the theatre.
The rest of their table soon filled up, and the second course was served. While Miss Denham was distracted by the banal civilities of Lady Lambert and her sister Miss Lloyd, Anne addressed Darcy, leaning a little closer without turning to look at him. “Why are you here, Darcy?”
“Miss Bennet informed us that the cuisine would be excellent. The mackerel does look expertly prepared, but then I am partial to fish.”
She let out a sharp, impatient exhale. “Please do not make this any more difficult than it already is. Why have you come to Sanditon? Pray, do not tell me it is because Georgiana likes the seaside, or because Roberta said….”
“It absolutely is because of something Roberta said,” Darcy interjected.
Anne gave another long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Darcy, did anything I said to you in my last letter give you the impression that I was ambivalent about ending our engagement?”
“That is immaterial; you have clearly taken leave of your senses.”
“Did it?”
“No.”
“Good,” she hissed. “I am glad I made myself clear; I need now only reiterate to you that we are finished. Our engagement was never formally documented in any way that matters, and soon Mother shall hold no power over me.”
“So, you intend to dilly dally through the next few months until you are of age and can marry where you please?”
“And you are free to do the same.” Anne forced a caustic smile and then turned away, their whispered exchange at an end. “Ahem, Miss Denham, are you fond of reading?”
Miss Denham abandoned Miss Lloyd mid-sentence to turn her attention the other direction.
“My hobbies are exceedingly varied; I tend to devote myself to one at a time, often concentrating all my attention and effort on whatever new interest intrigues me.” She swept her gaze appreciatively over Darcy before turning to Anne.
“I doubt I shall be found in a library again before the summer is over, but I have read enough that I am sure I would enjoy some rigorous discourse on that subject.”
Across the table, Richard fumbled his fork and gave a cough to cover his faux pas.
When Darcy looked over at his cousin, Richard winked.
Darcy turned back to Miss Denham. “Certainly we all have our interest captivated by new ideas from time to time; pray tell me, do you indulge these pursuits to please yourself, or are your choices influenced by what activities may best recommend you to the notice of those you wish to please?”
Darcy could hear Anne let out a low growl of irritation, and he thought it very likely that Miss Denham heard it, too, but the lady was well-bred enough to conceal it.
“I may be a woman, and rather young besides, but I hope I am capable of thinking for myself. However, I can certainly imagine circumstances where it would be quite my own decision to attempt some new activity which I might not otherwise have chosen, for the sake of forging some connection with a new friend.”
Darcy respected the diplomacy of her answer, but he had privately hoped the young lady would insist she should never entertain any amusements that went against her own preferences.
He tried again. “I see. And so—for example—if you had been dreadfully frightened of horses since your childhood, would you undertake a sudden enthusiasm for all things equestrian simply to please somebody else?”
Again Miss Denham’s lips twitched with intelligent bemusement, and her gaze flicked to Anne, who scoffed and muttered under her breath, “I was never afraid of horses.”
Miss Denham quite deliberately glanced over her shoulder in the direction of Sir Sidney’s table and smiled broadly.
“If it was to please a handsome, amiable, exceedingly eligible baronet, I would tolerate a great deal of what would otherwise bore me—and in time it may grow into a more genuine inclination. Is that not precisely how genteel young ladies are taught to behave?”
Lady Catherine turned a scrutinizing eye on them and abandoned any pretense of listening to Sir Beaufort Bollingbroke’s self-aggrandizing tales of his exploits in Parliament. “You give your opinion very decidedly for so young a person, Miss Denham.”
“When called upon to do so, I should think it rude to remain silent.” Miss Denham spoke without any inflection of emotion, nor even the barest trace of taking pleasure in her insolence.
Darcy was not sure whether this would soften the challenge of her words or intensify the defiance his aunt perceived.
Apparently, Lady Catherine could not decide, either.
She squinted imperiously, her chin held high as she surveyed Miss Denham and privately selected the most convenient conclusion to draw from the plain-speaking woman.
“Well, Miss Denham, you come by your confidence quite naturally, I think—you speak as frankly as your aunt, and in Kent I am celebrated for my own candor. With age one develops the delicacy required to be so forthright without offending one’s elders or betters.
My nephew Richard, brother to the Earl of Matlock, would do well to follow your lead in learning such subtlety.
And I must say, your instincts are correct in adjusting one’s occupations to please those worthy of being pleased… .”
Anne interjected before her mother could finish speaking.
“But I suppose that determination also comes with age? Pray, what age, Mother? Is five-and-twenty old enough to decide for oneself if it is permissible to take an interest in the pursuits of a person she admires? At what age does a lady attain the right to independent thought?”
Lady Catherine gave her daughter a thunderous look of reproach.
“Your cheeks are flushed, Anne; you are not well this evening. You have grown over-heated in such a crush of people, and surely the rich food is making your malady worse. You will return to our suite, and I will have some warm broth sent up.”
A fraught silence hung over the table as everybody waited for Anne’s reply.
She had indeed turned red from mortification, but she stiffened her posture and stared at her mother with unrepentant loathing as she finally spoke.
“You are mistaken, Mother; I am surely no warmer than anybody else on such a balmy summer evening. It is merely the climate—perhaps in this instance, the young adjust more quickly than the elderly. Are you overheated? Perhaps you ought to return to our suite and eat something less flavorful.”
Lady Catherine only gaped at Anne in horror, the presence of so many witnesses forcing her to abstain from striking her daughter.
Darcy was seething with barely controlled fury.
He had known for many years before his betrothal that Lady Catherine was not the same kind of mother to Anne as Lady Anne Darcy had been to him.
His every attempt to speak to her about her treatment of her daughter had been dismissed with denials and empty promises to take his concerns under advisement.
He ought to have done more for Anne; as angry as he was with his aunt for this public display of malevolence and the mortification she had caused his beloved Anne, he was just as angry with himself for having failed to put an end to this mistreatment years ago.
He laid a hand atop Anne’s, and to his surprise, she curled her fingers around his and squeezed hard—not with the intent to inflict pain, but as one drowning might cling to anything that would float.
His heart swelled with pride at how she had finally stood up for herself.
Never had he heard her so much as raise an objection to her mother’s directives; she never even complained of the harridan in their letters.
But the suffering that Lady Catherine had caused Anne was plainly written on her countenance.
It tore at his heart and confused his mind—why had she not allowed him to rescue her from such torment as she endured at Rosings?
And then Anne withdrew her hand and stood abruptly.
“On second thought, Mother, perhaps I am not at all myself. I shall find Penelope and return to our suite. I hope you enjoy your supper for a good long while. Darcy, Miss Denham, good evening.” She bobbed into a curtsey and then strode away with a smile.
Lady Catherine opened and closed her mouth several times, looking rather like the fish on her plate.
Beside her, Sir Beaufort Bollingbroke, who might have been twice her age, lifted his hand and began to grumble, ramping up to voice some stuffy and gouache complaint about young people these days.
Darcy and Richard shared a look of tremendous relief when Miss Denham was the first to speak.