Chapter Thirteen #3
Elizabeth did not conceal a wide grin, and the viscount winked at her before addressing the woman who claimed him as kin.
“Miss Bingley, may I present Mrs. Madeline Gardiner, the lovely aunt to the Bennet sisters, and here is Mrs. Evelyn Hatchard and her daughter Sophie, and her son Mr. Willoughby, of Combe Magna in Somerset. And this is Colonel Brandon, of Delaford in Dorsetshire. And to all of you, I present Miss Caroline Bingley.”
The viscount did not repeat any of the nonsense about their tenuous connection, and neither did he acknowledge anybody called Ferrars; Elizabeth was ready to hug his neck for the insolence of it.
Emboldened by his cheek, she allowed herself the same indulgence. “Are you already acquainted with Mr. Ferrars? I trust you have seen your new accomplice Miss Steele since last we met.”
Jane’s eyes went wide, and Mr. Ferrars began to cough.
Miss Bingley glanced round at Mrs. Ferrars and offered her a gracious smile before turning her head so that the older woman could not see her expression as she screwed up her face.
“Miss Eliza,” she huffed in a low whisper.
“Some secret-keeper you are! But I should of course prefer discretion.”
So Miss Steele had indeed informed Miss Bingley of the farcical tragedy of her secret engagement; Elizabeth wondered if Mr. Ferrars had met with both the vicious ladies, who were certainly designed for friendship with one another.
Viscount Bellamy glanced curiously at Mr. Ferrars, then looked to Jane, who schooled her countenance into something neutral.
When he turned to Elizabeth, she betrayed a slight flick of her eyebrows, for she had not the least objection to informing him, perhaps privately, the reason why Mr. Ferrars was hardly a rival for Jane’s affection.
Miss Bingley shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but though nobody was especially keen to converse with her, she was determined to have a share in the Bennet sisters’ amusement.
“How lovely to meet you all. Are you connected to the bookstore, at all, Mrs. Hatchard? Indeed! Well, what a fine thing! I daresay this is fine consolation for you, Mr. Darcy, in being amongst so large a party – I believe you share my appreciation of a fine library.”
“Yes; Darcy actually has one,” the viscount drawled.
“Perhaps Mrs. Hatchard might advise your brother on his collection, now that he is back at Netherfield. When last you were there, I believe you urged him to think of such matters.” Elizabeth gave Miss Bingley a brilliant smile as she made it clear that they knew where Mr. Bingley was, despite her efforts to conceal it.
“Surely Mr. Darcy would prefer the honor himself,” Miss Bingley sniffed. “But Charles is indeed resolved to make the most of Netherfield; he flatly refused to return to London when I wrote to suggest it. I believe he likes the place just as well as he ever did, and is just as content there.”
Jane gave no reaction to Miss Bingley’s ploy to distress her.
Instead, she bestowed a beatifical smile upon the viscount, who in turn grinned.
“How fascinating. My sister Rebecca is quite the dramatist, it would seem, for her post this morning painted a dismal picture of Bingley’s efforts to rejoin the neighborhood, as if they had some cause to resent his going away and vowing not to return.
And yet, I have always thought her to be so very prescient in such observations. ”
Elizabeth smirked at Mr. Darcy. “Perhaps, Miss Bingley, your brother means to act upon good advice and apply himself to matters of estate above all else. Surely that would earn him a modicum of respect from the neighbors.”
“Dear Lady Rebecca is just the sort of companion who is sure to give him sound advice; I know her very well, Eliza, and she is better suited to aiding him socially rather than worrying overly much about an estate he is only renting.”
Mr. Darcy looked incensed and stood abruptly. “Well, I believe Mrs. Jennings must find her drawing room overly crowded; perhaps we ought to be going.”
“Oh, not so soon, surely,” Sophie cried, latching onto Georgiana.
“It would be a pity, particularly when I was about to propose we all walk out and enjoy the fine weather,” the viscount suggested.
Mr. Willoughby stalked over to Mrs. Jennings.
“What do you say to a picnic, Madam? I declare, it is quite unseasonably warm, and we have a few hours yet of sunshine. I am sure it would please the young ladies, which makes the notion of utmost importance to me.” He placed a hand on his heart and flashed them all a roguish grin.
Mrs. Jennings took to the notion with alacrity, and dispatched some hasty directives to her staff to make the preparations ready at an instant.
A selection of fruit, cheese, and other refreshments was to be packed up, along with rugs and cushions for their comfort, and conveyed to Hyde Park, which was but a short walk for her guests.
The viscount congratulated them for such clever thinking, and declared, “Matlock House is along our path – I must invite the countess to join us, and I should very much wish to present my girls to you ladies.”
Jane looked at him with surprise, and did not notice the look of envy Miss Bingley cast at her. “That would be lovely, Viscount Bellamy.”
Elizabeth peered up at Mr. Darcy, who was still standing beside her. He extended his hand to help her to her feet. “As you are to be my muse, Miss Bennet, I shall learn your fondness for walking.”
Miss Bingley’s next poisonous glare was not lost on its intended recipient, but Elizabeth smiled brightly at the woman. “Excellent. We shall be a very merry party, even if we are not sufficient inducement for Miss Bingley to tempt her brother back to London.”
“I am sure we are all where we are meant to be,” the viscount said, offering Jane his arm.
The rest of their party began to sort themselves as they donned their outerwear and vied for their preferred walking companions.
It was but a block to Matlock House, where the viscount entreated his step-mother and three daughters to join their already large party.
From there they continued two more blocks to Hyde Park, and made their way toward the Serpentine, where Mrs. Jennings’s beleaguered butler was supervising the setup of their impromptu picnic.
As he shepherded his daughters, timid girls of eleven, eight, and six, the viscount fell into step with Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy. “Miss Elizabeth, I wonder if you might now tell me what would not have been polite for you to reveal in the drawing room.”
“Phillip,” Mr. Darcy said with a sigh as he looked askance at his cousin.
Viscount Bellamy ignored this. “Come, Miss Elizabeth; I begin to share my cousin’s appreciation for that sparkle of wit in your eyes. I know you wish to tell me some great secret you are privy to, and I daresay it has to do with my rival. I am a pitiful fellow, and I need every advantage."
Elizabeth followed the darting of his gaze to Jane, who was stuck with Edward Ferrars as a companion for their walk to the park.
And then she looked over at Mr. Darcy, who was still grimacing at his cousin.
“You need not indulge him, Miss Elizabeth,” he said softly.
“You have admonished me for my previous meddling; I understand it is not something you should wish my cousin to pressure you about.”
“I should hardly consider it meddling when I mean to present him with facts, rather than opinions or assumptions, or any manner of subterfuge.” Elizabeth grinned cheerfully, for she rather enjoyed abusing Mr. Ferrars; it had become the one comfort of enduring his company.
She turned her bright smile on the viscount, and she leaned in to whisper to him, without releasing Mr. Darcy’s arm.
She relayed the substance of Edward Ferrars’s conduct to Viscount Bellamy – how he had practically courted Elinor, causing his sister to cast the Dashwoods out of the house, and how the cad had all the while been secretly engaged to a woman he now wished to forsake.
“And the young lady – is that Miss Steele? Miss Bingley’s accomplice, you called her,” the Viscount said with an appreciative whistle at her scandalous information, as Elizabeth nodded her head.
“We do him a disservice in discussing it; we cannot know the nuance of the situation,” Mr. Darcy said gravely. “He walks a fine line in following the strictures of his own conscience while dependent on the good will of his relations.”
“Given his dependency, I consider his decisions to be rather reckless,” Elizabeth said to the viscount. “I am sure my sister is of the same opinion. You must rescue her from her misery.”
Viscount Bellamy raised her hand in his and bowed his head over it. “Wise Miss Elizabeth, I give you my thanks, though it seems I must leave you to the admonishments of my shamefully neutral cousin.” He led his daughters to walk with the countess, and then he hastened to intercept Jane.
They were just entering the park when Elizabeth finally spoke, after watching Mr. Darcy and waiting for him to react to her indiscreet revelations. “I suppose you already knew of Mr. Ferrars’s… situation?”
While the viscount had responded with reasonable shock, Mr. Darcy had not shown a trace of surprise at what Elizabeth told them. She studied the man whose arm she held, curious at the subtle shifting of emotions on his handsome face. Finally, he gave a nod of his head.
“Miss Elizabeth, I know all too well the desire to protect one’s sister. However, I believe Miss Bennet has demonstrated that she is perfectly capable of speaking plainly; I am sure that she is quite safe with Mr. Ferrars.”
Elizabeth begrudgingly agreed that if her sister could firmly tell Mr. Darcy that she no longer cared for Mr. Bingley, surely Jane could handle Mr. Ferrars. Even so, it nettled her that he would not involve himself, even on his cousin’s behalf.