Chapter 8
Elizabeth had spent a good deal of time working out why she was uneasy about this evening.
Mr. Bingley wished to see Jane, that much was obvious.
That he had asked Lady Anne to include the Bennet sisters in his invitation to Darcy House was perfectly natural.
He had also requested the Gardiners be allowed to attend which was, while unusual, not surprising, given his affability and his own connections to trade.
What she could not fathom was that Lady Anne Darcy had agreed.
Aunt Gardiner had spoken of the Darcys with warmth when the invitation arrived.
Lambton had its own view of Pemberley’s inhabitants, and she had remarked more than once in the past three weeks that the family was known for its liberality.
While the Darcys would probably not seat a blacksmith at their table, a well-dressed merchant of education and capital, with a wife from a respectable family in Derbyshire, was not beneath their notice.
It was not a habit universally admired in town.
Some of the older houses, her aunt had said, would not have Lady Anne over their threshold on the principle of it; others would not have minded upholding the principle, but found themselves obliged to receive her anyway.
No London matron with children to marry off forfeited an invitation Lady Anne Darcy had taken the trouble to extend, and therefore it would not do to offend her.
This portrait of the Darcys did not sit easily with Elizabeth’s impression of Mr. Darcy.
Her opinion of him, formed in Hertfordshire, remained tolerably unflattering, and his visit to Gracechurch Street had done little to alter it.
A young man who was so plainly persuaded of his own consequence must, she thought, have learned it at home.
But that was not what her aunt had claimed, so her account must be incomplete.
“You are very quiet, Lizzy,” her aunt said.
“I have been pondering my opinion of our hostess with the evidence available to me.”
“That is admirably industrious of you. And what opinion have you arrived at?”
“That I am not in possession of enough information.”
“Wise, Lizzy,” her uncle said with a chuckle. “Sketching someone’s character is dangerous enough when you do so upon a first meeting. You would not wish to have arrived at a conclusion about Lady Anne before we have even set foot in her hall.”
Elizabeth smiled. “That is fair, Uncle.”
“Lady Anne is very kind to include us, Lizzy,” her aunt said as a warning. “Please, keep your conclusions in reserve until we are home again.”
Elizabeth was embarrassed that she had given her aunt reason to suspect that she might not. “Of course, Aunt.”
Jane was not listening to any of them. She seemed both anxious and pleased, and Elizabeth was very grateful to Lady Anne for offering her sister this opportunity to meet with Mr. Bingley in company. Perhaps she ought to begin her assessment there.
The carriage slowed as it came round the square.
“There it is,” her aunt said, nodding at the house where two footmen in the dark blue, silver-braided livery stood between two lamps at the gate. There was light in every window of the house visible from the street.
Elizabeth glanced at her sister.
Tonight, Jane would observe Mr. Bingley in his London circle, which she had not yet done.
Whatever she determined by the end of the evening, if anything had been determined at all, Elizabeth meant to be of use to her.
Whether Jane decided she could love Mr. Bingley well enough to marry him or decided instead that what she had felt at Netherfield could not survive a London drawing room, Elizabeth would be with her to assist.
Elizabeth decided that she could like Lady Anne Darcy perfectly well, even if Lady Anne’s son did not like her. Lady Anne was her own person, and Elizabeth would judge the woman on her own merits, without reference to the son.
The carriage pulled up to the house and stopped. The door opened, and when it was Elizabeth’s turn, she stepped down. She took one more look up at the impressive house, lifted her chin, and followed her family up the walk.
Two additional footmen received cloaks and pelisses inside the entrance, and a butler stationed just inside the drawing room relayed their names ahead of them as they entered.
“Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner. Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
The drawing room into which they were shown had been arranged for the comfortable accommodation of some thirty people.
There were, by Elizabeth’s rapid count, closer to twenty in attendance.
Lady Anne, whom Elizabeth recognised at once though she had never seen her before, stood near the centre of the room.
She was tall, like her son, but slender and fair. She and Miss Darcy shared their looks.
Lady Anne moved towards them.
“Mr. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner,” she said warmly. “How lovely to meet you. Mr. Bingley assured me you would come, and I should have been quite cast down if you had not.”
Her uncle bowed, and Aunt Gardiner curtsied. “Lady Anne. We are honoured by your hospitality.”
“You are most welcome here.” She turned to Jane next. “Miss Bennet.”
“Lady Anne,” Jane said. She sounded perfectly calm, but there was a tiny tremor in her voice. Elizabeth was sure no one other than her and perhaps her aunt would notice.
But Lady Anne seemed to note it as well. “Mr. Bingley has spoken much of you, Miss Bennet. Forgive him; he has not been able to help himself.”
Jane flushed.
Lady Anne glanced across the room where Mr. Darcy was standing. He saw that his mother was speaking with them, and offered a courteous bow before returning to his guests.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Lady Anne said, “I have been most curious to make your acquaintance.”
The words were light, even friendly, and Elizabeth, who had spent time in a great many country drawing rooms, understood before she had completed her curtsy that the lady’s interest was genuine. What kind of interest, and why, she could not yet say.
“I am pleased to meet you, Lady Anne.”
“And I you, my dear.” Lady Anne smiled. “Mr. Bingley is just there, Miss Bennet, and is quite eager to see you. Mrs. Gardiner, may I trouble you to accompany us? Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth, I shall return shortly.”
Their party was thus introduced into the room not as parties finding their own footing in a sea of strangers, but as Lady Anne’s particular guests.
Aunt Gardiner was carried off to a small grouping near the fire, and Uncle Gardiner remained with Elizabeth, though he inclined his head to a gentleman who seemed near his own age and was drawn into a conversation almost at once.
Jane was led towards Mr. Bingley, who was situated nearest the fire.
Elizabeth was briefly left without a conversation partner. Sadly, it did not last.
“Miss Eliza,” said a familiar voice from her left, “how very pleasant it is to see you here.”
Elizabeth turned to see Miss Bingley sitting in a chair with an excellent view of the door, no doubt to evaluate each new guest as they arrived. She did not rise.
“Miss Bingley.”
“I see your uncle and aunt have come. Lady Anne has the most extraordinary way of opening her doors to those who would not, in the ordinary course of things, find themselves welcomed.”
Elizabeth had not missed the elegance with which Miss Bingley could transform drawing room conversation into an insult.
She glanced across the room to see her aunt receiving the deferential bow of an elderly gentleman in a brown coat who appeared perfectly delighted by her company.
Elizabeth took a breath. “We must both be indebted to Lady Anne, then.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Lady Anne, I gather, is less exacting than some about family connexions to trade.” She held Miss Bingley’s gaze and would not look away.
Miss Bingley’s smile disappeared. She seemed about to reply, but the words did not arrive in time. “I hardly know what you—”
“Miss Elizabeth.” Lady Anne was at her elbow again. “Miss Bingley, you will forgive me for stealing her away.”
“Certainly, Lady Anne,” Miss Bingley said.
Elizabeth smiled at Miss Bingley before she was led to an alcove where a sideboard had been arranged with hot punch. A footman poured her a glass when Lady Anne nodded at it. Elizabeth accepted it with gratitude, for speaking with Miss Bingley was always thirsty work.
“Mr. Bingley has told me much of your sister,” Lady Anne said. “He praises her beauty and also your wit. Pray, what do you read, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth was reluctant to have her preferences sorted and interpreted like clues to her character. “Whatever falls into my hand, Lady Anne.”
“It cannot be so simple as that, I think.”
“You may take it that I read whatever my father does not forbid, which is a wider field than is generally conceded to young ladies.”
“Mr. Bennet does not forbid much?” Mr. Darcy’s mother sounded interested in this rather than scandalised.
“Almost nothing. He believes a young lady should learn to govern her own taste, which is a custom sometimes more comfortable for the father than edifying for the daughter.”
Lady Anne smiled. “The reason I ask this question is that I find the most interesting people have very different ways of answering it, and the variations are more revealing than the choice of literature itself.”
Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “That is rather clever.”
“I have had years to practice appearing insightful at parties.” Lady Anne accepted a glass of punch and took a sip. “Mr. Bingley mentioned you have several sisters.”
“Four sisters, ma’am, including Jane. I am the second.”
“And the others?”
“Mary is eighteen, and serious in her tastes. Catherine is just seventeen, Lydia fifteen. They are all at Longbourn with my parents.”
“And your father is well, I trust. You have implied he has an excellent library.”
“He is very well, ma’am. The book room is the part of the house I miss most, for it has been the work of generations and I am very fond of it.”