Chapter Fifteen #2
Sophie went to greet Georgiana at once, and Jane could see that the viscount was already looking for her amidst the growing crowd.
He smiled but then began to look panicked as Miss Bingley swiftly attached herself to him.
Mr. Willoughby softly chuckled. “I suppose I shall have to devote myself to a certain lady this evening so that you might have the opportunity of coming to know the viscount better. But before I perform this valiant feat, I must give you something, Miss Bennet.”
Mr. Willoughby had been holding a small book since his arrival, and he offered it now to Jane.
In a hushed and plaintive tone he said, “It has been a week – if you have not yet had word from Marianne, perhaps the letter may have gone amiss? I have composed another… if you do not think it overbearing….”
Jane accepted the book, understanding that it must contain the missive between its pages; Mr. Willoughby would not endanger her reputation by handing her the letter directly, for all to see.
Jane tucked it under her arm, and Mr. Willoughby extended his hand to lead her across the room.
Jane glanced over her shoulder to see if her sister would follow them, but Elizabeth was rooted in place, staring at Mr. Darcy.
Jane felt a pang of worry for her sister, who did not seem herself at all. She was obliged to swiftly exchange this frown for a placid smile as she greeted the viscount and Miss Bingley, saying everything appropriate but feeling utterly insipid.
The viscount wore an expression of relief as he warmly returned Jane’s civilities. “You are looking remarkably well this evening, Miss Bennet. I trust you are as eager for company as I am, after a week of so much abysmal snow and wind.”
Jane felt her smile flicker for a moment; after taking such unusually wicked delight in sharing salacious gossip with Mr. Willoughby, it seemed terribly trite to be speaking of the weather. “Yes, very much.”
Miss Bingley offered them a saccharine smile.
“Poor Miss Bennet! You have come to London to divert yourself, a luxury for one who resides chiefly in the country, only to be thwarted by a blizzard! But now you must begin to feel all your good fortune, for you once boasted of having relations in Cheapside, and now you find yourself mingling amongst the first circles in Mayfair.”
The viscount frowned at Miss Bingley; Mr. Willoughby gave an exaggerated guffaw.
“It is remarkable, is it not, that one need not rely on status or fortune, when pleasing manners and gentle charms might make one welcome among such first-rate company! But let us not be daunted by the weather, or speak of something so dull – those of us who reside at country estate know that we might still make merry when there is snow on the ground. I could take you on a sleigh ride, or ice-skating, Miss Bingley, and then you would understand the regard we country folk have for white winters.”
Mr. Willoughby’s self-satisfaction was a stark contrast to Miss Bingley’s sneer of displeasure. Viscount Bellamy smiled indulgently at them all, his eyes betraying his bemusement at Willoughby’s efforts to discompose the harpy.
“I ought not bore you all with such talk of the weather – forgive me, Miss Bennet, but I fear my manners are in want of some practice now that I have rejoined London society. Even Darcy appears to be getting on better, for he looks quite fascinated by whatever Mrs. Jennings is saying to him.”
“Our hostess has a boundless enthusiasm for society,” Mr. Willoughby agreed. “I met her in Devonshire, and I can tell you candidly that she also has a penchant for matchmaking. I am sure the ladies currently residing with her must give her a delightful occupation.”
Mrs. Jennings’s voice carried, and Jane could hear the good lady speak Elizabeth’s name, praising her musical abilities. Miss Bingley grimaced. “Poor Mr. Darcy does not like that sort of talk at all – perhaps I ought to go rescue him.”
The two gentlemen nodded their agreement, and Mr. Willoughby gave a small bow to Jane. “If we are rescuing our friends from conversations they appear to be enjoying, I shall go and show the same courtesy to your aunt, Miss Bennet.”
The viscount extended his arm to Jane and led her behind Mr. Willoughby, causing that gentleman to gape at them as they joined him in conversing with Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Hatchard.
“My daughters asked me to send you their greetings, madam,” the viscount said.
“And to you, as well, Miss Bennet. They were quite put out that they could not accompany me this evening.”
“Another time, you must bring them to visit,” Mrs. Gardiner replied.
“And how is your daughter? Is she still building blanket castles at Longbourn?”
Mrs. Gardiner laughed ruefully. “She is. I had thought she might join us here in London, but she is far too content with her cousins.”
Jane caught Mr. Willoughby’s eye, and he made a subtle gesture urging her to speak to the viscount; she knew he had dispensed with Miss Bingley for her benefit.
She did wish to make some sort of contribution to the conversation, but the viscount continued to pepper Mrs. Gardiner with questions about her daughter, the sale of her house in Cheapside, and where she might settle next.
When Mrs. Ferrars and her relations arrived, Mr. Willoughby took a few steps closer to Jane. “I shall not abandon you, my dear friend, but I must say, this fellow is as dismal a beau as that other one. We must think of something to say that will shock and amaze him.”
“I do not think he wishes to be amazed,” Jane whispered back. “If that were the case, I should only disappoint him.”
“You are not half so trite! I hope Miss Bingley has not frightened you.”
“I am only inspired to prove her quite wrong,” Jane said with a smile. She recalled how Elizabeth had advised her to adopt some of her sister’s prickliness, and Jane had to admit to herself that she rather liked the notion. She rallied her courage and tried again to converse with the viscount.
“What do you say to Mr. Willoughby’s notion of skating and sleigh rides, sir? I shall be in London another fortnight, and I mean to make the most of my time amongst amusing companions.”
“My daughters and I would be delighted to accompany you all on your wintry excursions,” the viscount said. “But have you only a fortnight remaining of your visit? Surely Mrs. Jennings could not bear to part with you so soon!”
Mr. Willoughby glanced toward where Lucy Steele crept back into the parlor, leaving the door ajar behind herself.
“I daresay poor Mrs. Jennings will be vexed enough that her seating arrangement has been meddled with – let us dare not speak of anything as unpleasant as parting with her charming guests! But Mrs. Gardiner, you must come and keep watch for me while I sneak into the dining room and undo whatever mischief has been done.”
Mrs. Gardiner flashed Jane a quick wink before she allowed Mr. Willoughby to lead her away. Jane was finally left alone with the viscount, and she searched for something to say to him before they were again obliged to speak to the other guests.
After a moment of silence, Viscount Bellamy gestured to the book Jane still held. “Do you intend to read, Miss Bennet? I know my conversation is not especially enthralling.”
“Mr. Willoughby has given – er, loaned me several volumes of poetry. I have chiefly been a reader of novels, but I find I quite enjoy the works of Cowper, Coleridge, and Wordsworth. I have just finished James Thomson’s The Seasons, which I thoroughly enjoyed.
His observations on winter struck me in particular.
‘For then is the time, for those whom wisdom and whom nature charm, to steal themselves from the degenerate crowd, and soar above this scene of little things, to…’ – oh dear, I cannot recall…
– ‘to lay their passions in a gentle calm.’ Is that not beautiful? ”
“It is very lovely from your lips, Miss Bennet, though the verse suggests you tire of London society. I hope you do not consider the present crowd as degenerate. But I confess, I know little of poetry.”
“Perhaps, compared to a home of so many sisters, I find that my time in London has brought the gentle calm Mr. Thomson wrote of. But I am a novice to poetry myself.”
He examined the volume in her hand and let out a low whistle. “This is Lord Byron – hardly material for beginners, as I understand.”
Jane took a few steps toward the escritoire in the corner and set the book aside, concealing it between the other volumes Mr. Willoughby had given her, so that she might later retrieve the letter for Marianne.
Jane attempted to engage the viscount on other subjects, inquiring after his pastimes and pleasures, but found little to interest her in what occupied him.
After a few minutes of tepid conversation, Jane observed Mr. Willoughby return to the parlor; he gave her a cheerful grin before joining his mother and sister.
A loud peal of laughter caught her attention, and she turned her head to see Lucy Steele fawning over Edward Ferrars and his relations, while Miss Bingley hovered at her side giving haughty encouragement.
Mr. Darcy stood near them, scowling more severely than Jane had ever seen him do.
Miss Bingley perceived Jane watching them and broke away from her companions to approach Jane; when Jane turned to the viscount, she found that he had been engaged by Mr. Palmer in a discussion of politics.