Chapter 8 #2
Even as she said it, Elizabeth felt a flicker of amusement.
Mr. Darcy himself had once spoken of Pemberley’s library in nearly the same terms and with a seriousness she had then thought slightly excessive.
Although her father’s book room was not the expansive room she suspected existed at Pemberley, she was apparently guilty of the same sort of pride.
Lady Anne paused. “And Mrs. Bennet?”
“My mother is well, Lady Anne. She has not been to town in some years, and though she declares she would enjoy it, I suspect she is happier reigning at Longbourn than she would be attempting new conquests in London.”
Lady Anne accepted this with a small nod of her head.
A gentleman came to the sideboard for punch, and Lady Anne turned. “Miss Elizabeth, allow me to present my nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Richard, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, lately of Hertfordshire.”
The colonel bowed. “Miss Elizabeth. My condolences. My aunt’s punch is excellent, but it is never offered without cost.”
“So I have discovered, Colonel. I am several questions in and have not yet finished my first glass.”
“Richard,” his aunt said, her tone a warning.
“You see how it is,” the colonel said to Elizabeth.
“Lady Trevelyan is by the fire,” his aunt continued, “and her glass is empty.”
“And so I am dealt with.” The colonel collected a second glass, bowed, and went.
A footman inquired whether Elizabeth would like her cup refilled. She declined.
She wondered what Lady Anne was about. The woman’s manner had been kind throughout, unhurried and entirely civil, but the conversation had drawn from Elizabeth a series of small facts, and she did not yet know what use Mr. Darcy’s mother had for them.
“Mr. Bingley has called at Gracechurch Street, I gather, with admirable regularity. But your sister must have other suitors?”
Now she understood. Mr. Bingley was Mr. Darcy’s good friend, and Lady Anne wished to know more about Jane’s family.
“My aunt’s parlour has been peaceful, ma’am. Mr. Bingley has been our most regular caller. Beyond him and one or two old acquaintances of my uncle’s, no one has worn a path to our door.”
“That cannot be quite the case, surely, in a household where two such young ladies are visiting.”
Elizabeth was instantly wary. She was here for Jane, not to be matched herself, no matter how prodigious Aunt Gardiner believed this lady’s talents to be. “It can be, madam, where one of them has made up her mind that she has come to town for the quiet.”
The lady laughed softly. “You have come to town for the quiet? That is rather unusual.”
“And yet, it is true.”
Lady Anne’s nod was at once elegant and languid. “I see.”
What Lady Anne saw, exactly, Elizabeth could not have said, but she did not think Lady Anne believed her.
“Mr. Cresswell,” the lady said, turning a quarter of an inch to the left and holding out her arm, “may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who has lately come up to town from her father’s estate in Hertfordshire?”
Elizabeth had not seen the gentleman approach.
Mr. Cresswell was perhaps twenty-five years of age, of middle height, soberly but well-dressed, with a fair, clean-shaven face that betokened neither vanity nor self-neglect. His eyes were grey, intelligent, and steady. He bowed. “Miss Elizabeth. I am most happy to make your acquaintance.”
She suppressed a little sigh. It was not his fault that Lady Anne had planted seeds that would bear no fruit. “Mr. Cresswell.”
“Mr. Cresswell,” said Lady Anne, “has the living at Maplehurst, a day’s journey from my brother’s seat. He is, when he is not improving his parishioners, a frequent correspondent of mine on the merits of Mr. Wordsworth, upon whom we have agreed to disagree.”
Mr. Cresswell chuckled. “Lady Anne is quite the devotee.”
“I am, and I shall not be reasoned out of my admiration. Miss Elizabeth, it has been a delight to speak with you. I must see to my other guests.” Then she was gone, leaving Elizabeth to discover what Mr. Cresswell thought of Mr. Wordsworth.
Mr. Cresswell did not at once supply this information. “You and your sister are staying with the Gardiners, I understand,” he said instead.
“Yes, they are my aunt and uncle and very kind to host us.”
“I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gardiner just now. He is well-read on a question of trade in which I am personally interested. He has also ties to a charity that has lately occupied me.”
“My uncle is a man of many interests, sir.”
“He spoke briefly but very highly of his nieces.” He paused, and then said, “Miss Elizabeth, will you permit me to be plain?”
“I admit I would prefer it, sir.”
He offered her a crooked smile. “Lady Anne is a particular friend of my family. When she learnt I was in town, she invited me because there would be a young lady present with whom I might like to become acquainted.”
It was honestly and courteously said.
“Mr. Cresswell,” Elizabeth replied, “I thank you for your candour. Will you permit me to be similarly direct?”
He offered her a knowing smile. “Certainly.”
“I am of course grateful for Lady Anne’s attentions, but I am not in town to marry.
I am here as my sister’s companion and my aunt’s guest. My object is to be a useful niece and sister, to enjoy town, and to improve my mind.
I have no fortune, sir, and no expectations of altering that condition by a marriage.
I should be doing you a disservice by misleading you. ”
Mr. Cresswell received this with the same composure with which he had received everything else. “You are very direct, Miss Elizabeth.”
“I have been told the trait is unbecoming, sir, but I have not yet been told what to put in its place.”
He smiled genuinely at her. “Do not put anything in its place. It has saved us both a great deal of time.” He bowed slightly.
“To fortune I am not indifferent, though it is most important that I marry a woman who is willing to engage with me in the work of my parish. When Lady Anne mentioned you, I had hoped that we should be friends. Permit me to believe that we may yet be that.”