Chapter 3 #2
“You made a suggestion at the assembly, Mr. Darcy. Regarding my daughter. You observed that Elizabeth possesses a sharp mind and would suit admirably as a companion for your sister.” She gestured to the solicitor, who presented a document from his case. “We are here to discuss the terms.”
“A companion?” Caroline’s voice pierced with a painful register.
Her gaze moved between Miss Elizabeth and me with the bright attention of someone watching a very satisfying scene unfold.
“You offered Miss Eliza Bennet a position as Georgiana’s companion?
How very… practical of you, Mr. Darcy. I had no idea you were seeking to fill that role.
Had I known, I would have made enquiries amongst my acquaintances. ”
“I did not propose—” I stopped. Because I had.
Not formally or intentionally, and definitely not with any expectation that the words would acquire the weight of a contractual obligation—but I had made an observation to Sir William Lucas, in the presence of several witnesses, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s mind might suit the position of companion to my sister.
And if I denied the suggestion entirely, I would be calling the mother of the woman I had insulted a liar, in her hearing, in Bingley’s house, where I was a guest.
The trap was elegant. I will grant Mrs. Bennet that.
My gaze sought out Miss Elizabeth. She had not spoken since entering the room, but her eyes met mine now—dark, direct, and crackling. She liked this no better than I. The cat, however, began to purr, a low rumble that seemed deliberately timed to fill the charged silence.
“Mr. Philips,” Mrs. Bennet summoned. “If you would be so good.”
Mr. Philips unfolded the document and began to read.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, aged two-and-twenty, of Longbourn, Hertfordshire, would reside at the current residence of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy for the purpose of providing companionship and cultural instruction to Miss Georgiana Darcy. The arrangement would commence within the fortnight and continue for a period of six months, renewable upon mutual agreement.”
“Compensation,” Mr. Philips continued, turning a page, “is set at two hundred pounds per annum, payable quarterly. Miss Bennet shall have a private bedchamber, access to the household library, and use of a sitting room suitable for receiving visitors.”
He paused.
I recognized, from his expression, that the pause was intentional.
“She is also to be afforded,” Mr. Philips added, turning a page with the precise care of a man who knows the next clause is a live coal, “the right to keep her cat.”
Every eye in the room turned to the animal in Miss Elizabeth’s arms. The creature chose this moment to yawn, displaying an impressive array of small, sharp teeth before settling more firmly into her mistress’s embrace.
“Her cat,” I said.
“Cinnamon. An orange tabby. Quite well-mannered, though spirited.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice carried the delicate implication that she considered the cat’s temperament an asset rather than a liability. “Elizabeth is deeply attached. The cat is non-negotiable.”
“How delightful!” Caroline had arranged her features into an expression of gracious condescension that she evidently believed was welcoming. “A companion for Georgiana. What a charming arrangement. And a cat—Georgiana does so love animals. I am certain this will all work out splendidly.”
I understood Caroline’s enthusiasm with perfect clarity: a companion was a servant by another name, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet installed as a dependent in our household was Miss Elizabeth Bennet removed from whatever competition Caroline imagined her to represent.
It was transparent, and it was small, and I had no patience for it.
Bingley, to his credit, looked troubled. “I say, Darcy, this all seems rather irregular. Miss Bennet, are you quite sure?”
“Quite sure, Mr. Bingley.” Her voice, when it finally came, was steady and sharp and aimed at no one in particular—which meant, I suspected, that it was aimed directly at me.
“Your concern is appreciated, but unnecessary. I am perfectly willing to provide companionship to Miss Darcy. It is, after all, precisely what your friend suggested I was suited for.”
The emphasis on suggested landed like a prize carp on an angler’s rod. I felt the cut and did not flinch.
“Why?” The challenge escaped before I could stop it—too direct and revealing, an admission that I could not fathom why Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who had looked at me at the assembly with an expression that could have tanned leather, would consent to be housed under my roof.
Miss Elizabeth tilted her head—a gesture so reminiscent of the cat in her arms that I wondered, briefly, which of them had taught it to the other. Cinnamon’s amber eyes and her dark ones regarded me with identical expressions of cool appraisal.
“Why?” she repeated, as though tasting the word for deficiencies. “Because you are in want of a companion for your sister, Mr. Darcy, and I am in want of two hundred pounds per annum. I believe in economic circles, they call that a market transaction.”
A sound escaped Bingley that he converted, with admirable speed, into a cough. Caroline’s smile went rigid. And Mrs. Bennet watched her daughter with the expression of a woman who had taught the archer to shoot and was now admiring the bullseye.
“Besides,” Miss Elizabeth continued, stroking Cinnamon’s ears with an unhurried calm, “you observed that I was suited to the role. I should hate for such keen perception to go to waste. One so rarely encounters a gentleman willing to recognize a woman’s utility.
” Her eyes met mine. “I shall endeavor to be everything you imagined, and I do hope your sister is prepared for the full force of that.”
“Then we are in agreement.” Mr. Philips produced a pen and ink from his case. The document was laid before me on a tea table, and I signed my name with the same steady hand I used for estate contracts and investment agreements, though the stakes had never felt quite so personal.
“Elizabeth will start tomorrow,” Mrs. Bennet announced. “Given that Miss Darcy is already in residence, and her lack of a companion has proved to be unsuitable.”
“I see no reason to delay,” I agreed, because I had no reason and no defenses left and because Miss Elizabeth’s eyes were on me, measuring, assessing, waiting to see whether I would find an avenue of retreat.
“One final matter.” Mrs. Bennet’s voice did not change, but the room attended.
“My daughter is not a servant. She is not a dependent. She is a gentleman’s daughter doing your family a kindness by bringing warmth and intelligence into a household that appears, from the outside, to have rather a deficit of both.
” Her gaze held mine. “Treat her accordingly.”
“You have my word.” My gaze was still pinned on Elizabeth, and to her credit, she did not quail.
“Then I shall go home and pack,” she said, her voice even and controlled and betraying nothing of whatever tumult lay beneath. “I will return tomorrow, with my things.” A pause, precisely weighted. “And with Cinnamon.”
“Of course,” I said, because what else could I possibly say?
She held my gaze for one moment longer—a look that contained multitudes I was not equipped to decipher.
I could not remove my eyes if I had plucked them from my face.
She departed with the same elegant grace she had arrived, the cream-colored muslin swaying with her steps, and the cat looking back at me over her shoulder, its tail curling.
Behind me, Bingley cleared his throat. “Darcy?”
“Yes.”
“What just happened?”
I did not wish to admit defeat. A gentleman of means never did. And so, I answered, “Why, I believe I have just engaged a most suitable companion for my dear sister.”