Chapter 30
The Bennets’ carriage arrived on Gracechurch Street early one October afternoon. Aunt Gardiner pointed Mr Legget to the servant’s entrance and ushered her nieces inside and up the stairs. Once Jane and Elizabeth had changed attire, they joined her in the parlour for tea, where the three spent an enjoyable hour catching up on the news in each household.
As usual, Elizabeth led the conversation while Jane added details here and there. “Our mother and father send their thanks.” She lifted a mischievous eyebrow. “Papa is especially pleased to have reduced the number of females at Longbourn to a more tolerable level.”
Mrs Gardiner pretended shock. “Surely you exaggerate.”
Elizabeth smiled. “Mary, Kitty, and Lydia send hugs for all.”
“Especially the children,” added Jane.
“And you may deliver them after we finish our tea.” Mrs Gardiner leant in. “Jane, your mother has informed me Mr Smyth—Lord Lambrook—seeks to reconnect with you.”
Jane blushed and looked at her hands. “Indeed, he does,” she declared. Elizabeth lightly touched her sister’s arm, a gesture that warmed Mrs Gardiner.
“He sends a posey every week. He is a most constant attendant.”
“That is good of him.” Mrs Gardiner laid a calming hand upon Jane’s forearm. “Pray allow me to caution both of you in one regard. Town is not the country; you must be cautious in your wording. That which is wit and admired in Hertfordshire will be fodder for gossip during the Season.”
It was obvious Elizabeth understood such advice was meant mostly for her. “Of course,” she said. “I shall be cautious in future conversation.”
“Excellent. Now, you two may give your sisters’ wishes to your cousins while I pen some notes.”
As her nieces danced up the stairs to the nursery, Mrs Gardiner sent notes to her cousins, Lady Matlock and Lady Catherine de Bourgh. She looked forward to introducing the girls to their sponsors and letting the pairs become comfortable with each other. She knew the ladies had excursions planned that fit the tastes of each—Lady Matlock would escort Jane to Kew; Elizabeth would lose herself and Lady Catherine for an hour or two at Hatchard’s. Mrs Gardiner thought the pairings exceptionally fortuitous.
Jane looked around Matlock House’s richly furnished parlour as an elegant woman in a beautiful rose-coloured gown rose to kiss her aunt on the cheek. The introductions completed, the ladies took their chairs as servants arrived with tea.
She felt Lady Matlock silently assessing her. “Your composure is commendable, my dear, particularly for one so unused to being in town.”
Jane smiled, then sipped her tea, moving the veil slightly to allow it.
“Jane,” said Mrs Gardiner. “I fear you must…”
Jane knew exactly what her aunt meant. She placed her tea on the table and carefully removed her hat. When she turned back to Lady Matlock, the woman blinked several times.
“Lady Matlock, Aunt Gardiner, please include me in your planning. This shall likely be my only Season.”
“Oh yes, I agree,” replied Lady Matlock.
Mrs Gardiner, setting her tea on the table in front of her, smiled. “I see we have encountered our first misunderstanding.” She turned to Lady Matlock. “You believe my niece shall have worthy suitors and perhaps an offer or two, and Jane, you believe that once the Season ends, you shall return to Longbourn.”
Jane nodded her agreement.
“Lady Matlock, I suggest that we do, in fact, include Jane in the attendance planning to achieve your goals. A lady need not endure that which is not beneficial to her, yes?”
Lady Matlock agreed and Jane thanked her. “We have only your best interests at heart, my dear,” Lady Matlock replied, tapping her lip with a forefinger. “Miss Bennet, let us be direct with each other to avoid misunderstandings.”
“Of course, Lady Matlock.”
Lady Matlock poured tea. She enumerated her questions as she put the pot back on the tray. “First, I understand you wore a veil to hide the injuries you had suffered some years ago, but you do not need wear one to conceal your beauty, in this room or anywhere in town.”
Jane nodded in spite of her unease.
“Second, let us review your accomplishments. I will soon have an audience with Her Majesty. She will expect a concise account.”
Jane squared her shoulders. “I have competency on the pianoforte, though I am reluctant to display. I enjoy singing in duets. I speak French fluently and am proficient in Italian. I enjoy reading most subjects, especially those related to horticulture and botanicals. I eschew mathematics; that is Lizzy’s milieu. At Longbourn, I spent many a happy hour in the stillroom...”
Lady Matlock was pleased by the blonde beauty’s list of accomplishments, yet she spoke of her talents as if she were wanting. A brief touch of anger heated her breast at the affronts she must have faced throughout her young life. Then the young lady tilted her head and smiled. Lady Matlock caught her breath. She is truly beautiful!
“I enjoy dancing, but only when I am particularly acquainted with my partner.”
Lady Matlock smiled. “You share the same opinion as my nephew. I will tell you what I have repeatedly said to him—we shall invest our time in making acquaintances, my dear.”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” announced the housekeeper. Aunt Gardiner and Elizabeth rose. A tall woman dressed in a dark, heavily embroidered gown assessed them with her nose in the air. Elizabeth held her breath.
“So, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I am, your ladyship.”
“I have had the pleasure of dining with Colonel Bennet.”
Elizabeth was left to wonder whether that was a good or a bad thing, as her ladyship offered no more.
“Let us begin tomorrow with my dressmaker. We have much to do and little time before we exhaust ourselves with dinners and dancing.” Lady Catherine levelled a gimlet eye. “You do enjoy dancing, do you not, Miss Elizabeth? And know the dances?”
“I do, ma’am.”
From there proceeded a short but thorough inquisition into Elizabeth’s accomplishments with no indication given as to whether Lady Catherine found them sufficient or wanting. When it was concluded they were awarded the rarest of things: a small smile.
“Then I daresay we are prepared.”
Every morning, precisely at eleven o’clock, Lady Catherine would call for Elizabeth or have the de Bourgh barouche waiting at Gracechurch Street. She was returned precisely one hour before the evening meal after each outing. Rarely did Elizabeth return empty-handed. One memorable evening, several footmen followed her into the Gardiner residence carrying all manner of ladies’ things, discreetly bundled.
At the dining table, Jane was rapt in hearing of the whirlwind of activities Elizabeth and Lady Catherine completed each day.
“Thank goodness for Hatchard’s,” claimed Elizabeth. “It is the single place in town where I am not subject to death by questions or pin pricks!”
“Oh, Lizzy!” laughed Jane. “How wonderfully you extemporise your adventures.”
Elizabeth spoke of the shopping, the teas, and the morning calls they made to houses of the aristocracy. Aunt Gardiner related Lady Catherine’s delight; Elizabeth’s zest for life made a favourable impression everywhere. Her witty banter entertained the men who joined their calls; her ability to listen and ask questions of interest to her fellow society maidens made her a welcome party member.
Elizabeth’s success is counter to what I am experiencing.
Alas, Jane’s own experience in town was far less charming. When they called upon Lady Matlock’s friends, Jane’s headpieces were a constant topic of conversation. In the times that she removed her veil prior to a call, the drawing room attendees gaped. Conversation dwindled to the basest of the mundane.
The daytime parlour visits were pleasant when compared to evening events. Jane struggled to keep her composure when the matrons separated from the younger groupings. She tried to get on with her social peers, but they spurned her. The eyes of eligible daughters seeking matches immediately turned green with envy and resentment, and their tongues became sharp and cruel, complaining that Jane was no one, unfairly blessed with beauty.
The pangs of envy and spite were not what the male attendees exhibited. Most of the gentlemen stared, often blatantly. It was the titled guests whose brazen behaviour—lewd facial gestures and whispered double-entendres—repeatedly crossed the lines of good manners. Jane was steadfast to be amongst others but once found herself without company while she sought a second cup of tea. Before she could reach the sideboard, an unknown gentleman stepped to her side and expertly guided her to a window; she chose not to make a scene but wondered how Mr Legget would have responded. Unfortunately, he had returned to Longbourn to watch over her younger sisters.
She wilfully remained facing away when he whispered over her shoulder, “Miss Bennet. I must say that I find you quite irresistible. You are a rare beauty.”
Jane did her best to disregard his words, as well as the strong aromas of cologne and wine emanating from him.
He was not discouraged. “I despair having arrived late and missed an introduction. I am Marquess Beauford, heir to the Somerset dukedom.”
Jane recognised him as the cousin of whom John spoke so poorly, whose licentious, malevolent behaviour had long been a threat to him and his parents. Unnerved, she continued to look out the window.
“I would be honoured if you would allow me to call on you. Please think of the benefits that would come with such an… association. You could have the best of everything—clothing, jewels, carriages, and more. You would enjoy a luxurious lifestyle that few women in your sphere could dream of.”
When he finished speaking and smiled, his fetid breath surrounded her. She leant away from him, as disgusted by his presence as by what she understood him to be offering.
“My lord, your offer is most generous, but I cannot accept. Excuse me.”
Jane walked away quickly and signalled to Lady Matlock; the visit ended soon after. In the carriage, she refused to elaborate but offered a shocking admission. “I have tired of counting the number of indecent looks and …” she paused. “…offensive suggestions I have received.”
Lady Matlock grasped her hand. “Lord Matlock will not stand by idly, my dear. Neither will your uncle Gardiner, I daresay,” she whispered.
Jane laid her head on Lady Matlock’s shoulder. “It is good to have able protection, is it not?” she asked.
“It is a great comfort, my dear. It is.”
Lady Matlock did not make second calls to those same addresses where Jane had been made uncomfortable. The tittle-tattle throughout the ton grew. Drawing rooms saw a reduction in attendance by male suitors. The accustomed ebb and flow of the Season had radically changed, and the cause was the country goddess every male desired and every miss resented.
The countess conceded to Miss Bennet’s plea for respite after the vicious reception she received at Lady Sarah Rawling’s ball. Miss Bennet had barely cleared the overdone receiving line—fourteen Rawlings to greet, it was unheard of and unseemly—before Lady Matlock overheard the poisonous comments trailing her protégée.
“Pardon me?” Lady Matlock did not smile.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Matlock.”
“Let us speak later, Lady Rawlings.” Wretched poseurs!
A clandestine sobriquetcirculated the ballrooms and parlours of the wealthiest of the ton. Those degenerate, insipid, envious men and women placed gloved hands over venal lips while they whispered fabricated on dits of Miss Bennet. They had dubbed the Season’s potential Diamond of the First Water the Scarred Lily and gossiped that she had created her own mythology by fabricating the story of her injuries.
That evening, Lady Matlock discussed the problem with Mrs Gardiner. “I fear Miss Bennet may forgo the rest of the Season,” she lamented.
“Her eligibility and connexions make as worthy a potential bride as any of the gentry or lower ranks of the aristocracy,” agreed her cousin.
The ladies agreed to seek help from Lord Matlock. He would know how to protect the once-in-a-generation beauty from the ton.