Chapter 32 A Season in London
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
A SEASON IN LONDON
Although Darcy had intended for their stay at Netherfield to last no more than a se’nnight, he found little reason to hurry their departure.
A letter from Bingley arrived midway through their visit, explaining that Miss Bingley’s removal from London and settling her elsewhere was proving rather more troublesome than expected.
With no pressing business to call him away and Elizabeth visibly content, Darcy extended their stay to a full fortnight.
Georgiana was in London with their Matlock relatives and had Mary with her for company, and he was content to remain hidden as long as possible.
They might have remained longer still had fortune not intervened.
On one of the few occasions he had persuaded Elizabeth to walk with him beyond the grounds, they had been seen by a tenant, who mentioned the encounter to his wife—who in turn passed the information along to another.
Within two days, their carefully maintained privacy had evaporated entirely, and Mrs Bennet appeared at Netherfield in a state of great excitement.
She was determined, it seemed, to see her newly married daughter and to demand, in full detail, why she had not been informed sooner that the Darcys were in the neighbourhood.
When her arrival was announced, Darcy glanced towards Elizabeth, who met his look with calm resignation and, after a pause, quietly urged him to remove himself before her mother descended upon them.
He did not need much persuasion. Before withdrawing to the nearby study, Elizabeth quickly confided her intention to tell her mother that they would be departing on the morrow.
Darcy could not help the smile that rose to his lips.
“A sound strategy,” he murmured, pressing a brief kiss to her lips before taking his leave.
From the sanctuary of the study, he heard the faint murmur of voices carrying down the corridor—his wife’s steady and composed, Mrs Bennet’s animated and ever-rising in pitch.
He occupied himself with drafting several letters and making the necessary arrangements for their departure.
Every so often, he caught himself smiling at the thought of Elizabeth maintaining her composure amidst her mother’s onslaught of questions.
Later, when the house had grown quiet again, Elizabeth joined him. She appeared amused rather than flustered, which spoke volumes of her temperament.
“She asked a few questions about us,” Elizabeth reported, a glint of humour in her eyes, “but mostly she sought to learn when Mr Bingley will return. I am surprised she did not bring any of my sisters with her. She was, however, most displeased to hear we are departing in the morning. Not that we had planned it that way,” she added with a teasing smile, “but if she knew we were here, she would think it necessary to call daily.”
Darcy chuckled softly and inclined his head. “Then your timing was impeccable. We ought not delay any longer in any case—my aunt expects us in London before the first of February which is but a day or two hence.”
Their arrival in London was, unfortunately, not unheralded.
Darcy had written to his housekeeper to announce their impending arrival, and had likewise written to his aunt.
Within hours of their arrival, Lady Matlock was upon their doorstep, armed with a calendar and a slew of invitations that she felt it was imperative that the newly married couple accept.
Darcy, however, was resolute when his aunt began to outline her grand plans for the Season.
“I will not run myself—and my new wife—into exhaustion attending every evening affair,” he said firmly.
“Nor will we rush from one event to the next in a single night. Choose wisely, Aunt. We shall not attend more than four engagements in any given week. Elizabeth will designate one day to be at home and another to make calls. We may not have gone on a wedding trip, but we are newly married, and I will not have us exhausted in the service of people for whom we care very little.”
Lady Matlock raised her brows in mild astonishment, her teacup poised midway to her lips. “Four engagements a week? My dear nephew, I am frankly shocked that you agree to so many.”
Darcy allowed himself a small smile. “You mistake moderation for indulgence, Aunt. I am determined to begin as I mean to go on. Besides, the more people who see us early in the Season, the easier it will be when we return to Pemberley in April.”
His aunt gave a delicate snort. “Determined, yes. But you must allow that society will be most disappointed. There are many eager to meet your bride.”
“Society can go hang,” he replied evenly.
At this, Elizabeth’s soft laugh drew his attention. “I believe your nephew has the right of it, Aunt,” she said lightly. “Even four engagements a week may prove too many. I am not certain I could survive your pace without flagging before the end of the month.”
Lady Matlock shook her head in mock despair. “You, Elizabeth, may say what you like—you have already bewitched my nephew into agreeing to far more than he realises.”
Darcy’s lips curved faintly. “On the contrary, Aunt, my wife and I are in perfect accord.”
His tone permitted no argument, yet when he looked at Elizabeth, his expression softened.
The quiet amusement in her smile and the pride in her eyes assured him he had chosen wisely in setting such boundaries.
She might be more inclined towards company than he, but he knew she valued sincerity over constant gaiety.
Lady Matlock sighed, setting down her cup. “Very well, Fitzwilliam. But when the invitations pour in, do not look to me for sympathy.”
“I would not dream of it,” he said drily. “Nor will I open my home to every person who wishes to enter it. Only friends will be welcomed.”
His aunt gave a long-suffering sigh—the very picture of elegant resignation. Darcy suspected she believed her concession a diplomatic triumph. In truth, he had merely defined the limits of what he was willing to endure. Four engagements a week was quite sufficient.
He would tolerate society’s demands for a time, knowing Elizabeth must be properly received as Mrs Darcy.
Yet his true wish was far simpler: to enjoy her company without the fatigue and frivolity of the London Season.
Once propriety had been satisfied and curiosity appeased, he meant to take her north to Pemberley—where peace awaited, and where she would be entirely his.
They lasted scarcely a month before both began to long for respite.
Elizabeth had enjoyed the novelty of London society—the conversation, the music, the theatre—but as Darcy had foreseen, the endless scrutiny soon proved wearisome for them both.
Every outing brought another round of speculation and polite curiosity, and even the most gracious attention became oppressive when repeated too often.
Mary and Georgiana were invited to join them at Pemberley, but both girls preferred to stay in London nearer to the music master.
A letter from Jane arrived at just the right moment, offering the perfect excuse to withdraw from the bustle for a short while.
Elizabeth read it aloud at breakfast, her tone perfectly innocent; still, the glint in her husband’s eyes told her he recognised an opportunity when he heard it.
By that afternoon, they had agreed to escape to Hertfordshire for a few days—and to bring Jane back to London upon their return.
“It seems Mama has not ceased her speculation and insistence that Jane make Mr Bingley propose,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head as she refolded the letter.
“The fact that he has not already done so is most troubling to her, and she cannot comprehend why the man does not call more frequently. Without a hostess, they cannot call on him either, and that, of course, only adds to her complaints. She cannot understand why Miss Bingley cannot be there with her brother, and Jane has been unable to explain the matter fully for fear of giving Mama further cause to gossip.”
Darcy’s quiet chuckle filled the room. “Then I suppose our visit will provide some distraction. Although I confess, I pity Bingley once your mother learns we are to stay at Netherfield for a few days.”
Elizabeth smiled over her teacup. “So do I,” she said wryly. “She will use the excuse of our presence to call frequently, so we must inform Papa of our plans—perhaps he can contrive some way to limit her enthusiasm.”
They arrived in Hertfordshire a few days later and were surprised to be greeted at Netherfield not only by Bingley, but also by Jane and Charlotte Lucas.
Lady Lucas accompanied them as chaperone, yet the arrangement puzzled both Elizabeth and Darcy.
Whatever had prompted this unexpected gathering, neither could quite make sense of it.
As soon as they alighted from the carriage, Lady Lucas offered an explanation.
“Jane paid a call to Lucas Lodge this morning and mentioned that you were expected,” she said pleasantly. “Since Charlotte also wished to see you, Mrs Darcy, I agreed to accompany them and make our little visit more respectable. Now that you are here to act as hostess, it is not entirely improper.”
She ended with a small, knowing smile, leaving Elizabeth to exchange a glance of amusement with her husband before greeting everyone. They entered the house, grateful their journey had been short, for there was no opportunity to rest; they were immediately swept into the duties of hosting.
The time away from London proved a welcome change—if only because they were no longer surrounded by those determined to find fault, particularly with Elizabeth.
She relished the ease of the country air, the comfort of Jane’s company, and even the good-humoured chatter of Bingley and Charlotte.
She missed Mary and Georgiana, of course, but they were content enough in London for the present.