Chapter 3
“I do believe you are the finest looking man at the assembly, Lord Grantchester,” pronounced Mrs Bennet with great satisfaction and enough volume that Elizabeth blushed to hear her, even if Lord Grantchester himself only laughed off his future mother-in-law’s fawning.
“And the best dressed. There cannot be another man here to match you!”
“Lord Keeble is very handsome too, Mrs Bennet,” replied Lord Grantchester with benevolent amusement and a smile to Jane, who stood beside him. “You must give my friend some credit for brightness of eye and liveliness of wit, surely?”
“Yes, do,” echoed Lord Keeble with a grin, equally unoffended by such over-personal remarks. “I very much like compliments, Mrs Bennet. In fact, I collect them wherever I can find them. I may be a very vain man.”
“Oh, indeed!” enthused Mrs Bennet, spilling drops of her punch onto a passing guest in her eagerness to extend her compliments to Lord Grantchester’s friend.
“Lord Keeble is most handsome and eligible, too. Do you not think so, Lizzy? You cannot say that you have not noticed. I do look forward to seeing you dancing together before long.”
Elizabeth had already been blushing for her mother’s lack of judgement, but at such blatant hints, she was forced to look away entirely.
This was not the first time Mrs Bennet had made such a clumsy attempt to foist her onto Lord Keeble tonight.
Her mother’s efforts were so marked, and made with so little attempt at discretion, as to be humiliating, especially in so public a place.
The knowing looks between local matrons spoke of their certainty that Elizabeth was angling to catch herself a rich man like her sister.
Why did Mrs Bennet never seem to know when to stop?
Elizabeth briefly wished herself in the anteroom where Mr Bennet and Mary had both taken refuge with their books among the pot plants and elderly widows.
“Miss Elizabeth is tired, I think,” Lord Keeble himself came to Elizabeth’s rescue with a small bow.
Elizabeth smiled at him gratefully. Despite his own boundless sociability, Lord Keeble was always sensitive to the feelings of others in company.
“Let us speak of dancing later. In the meantime, perhaps Miss Kitty or Miss Lydia would welcome another turn on the dance floor.”
“I certainly should,” announced Lydia, boldly taking Lord Keeble’s arm without waiting for any further invitation. “They’re going to play a reel next! Don’t you love a reel?”
“It’s not fair! It was my turn,” Kitty muttered sulkily as she watched them go. “There’s hardly any gentlemen here tonight, either.”
“Kitty,” Elizabeth said warningly, conscious of Lord Grantchester’s presence and Jane’s quiet demeanour. “There is plenty of time for dancing yet.”
Was Jane also feeling the same embarrassment as Elizabeth?
Or did her reserve relate more to their mother’s loud trumpeting of her engagement to every acquaintance they met?
While as pretty as ever in her fresh, white muslin, Jane seemed to be wilting like a flower in an inhospitable environment.
Elizabeth hoped that Lord Grantchester would see this too and take her away to dance.
In any case, Elizabeth did not wish Lord Grantchester to feel obligated to abandon Jane and accompany Kitty in the reel.
His attention was elsewhere, however. Lord Grantchester seemed to have spotted some acquaintance in the room and was turning to welcome them.
For a moment, this puzzled Elizabeth. Surely Lord Grantchester had not been in Hertfordshire long enough to make any new acquaintance.
“It is his old friend, Mr Darcy, and Caroline Bingley, whom I met in London,” whispered Jane, who had stepped back shyly from her fiancée as a small group approached them. “I suppose the others must be Miss Bingley’s brother and sister.”
Elizabeth only had time to nod briefly before Lord Grantchester had turned back to them and begun introducing his friends, addressing Mrs Bennet first and then her daughters.
“Madame, allow me to introduce Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire, one of my oldest friends.”
A tall, well-built man with dark hair bowed towards Mrs Bennet, Elizabeth, and Kitty, although his eyes scarcely seemed to light on any of them.
“This gentleman is also a friend, Mr Charles Bingley, who has lately taken Netherfield Park and must be among your nearest neighbours.”
Fair-haired and amiable in expression, the second man smiled cheerfully and bowed to each of the Bennet ladies present. His sky-blue eyes opened a little more widely when he saw Jane, an effect she often had on young men, and sometimes older men too.
“May I also introduce Mr Bingley’s sisters, Miss Caroline Bingley, and Mrs Louisa Hurst, and of course, Mr Hurst.”
Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst dropped formal curtsies to the group, their superior smiles not lost on Elizabeth as Mrs Bennet curtsied far too low and gave one of her rather loud and affected laughs.
Mr Hurst only grunted an acknowledgement, the redness of his nose and broken veins in his cheeks hinting that he might be more interested in drink than conversation.
“How wonderful to meet more of your friends, Lord Grantchester,” crowed Mrs Bennet before the introductions were completed. “We are honoured, Mr Darcy, Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr and Mrs Hurst. I do hope that you all like to dance…”
“This is Mrs Bennet, the mother of Miss Jane Bennet, whom you already know, I think,” Lord Grantchester moved on swiftly, “and this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Kitty Bennet.”
Elizabeth and Jane curtsied and smiled politely, Kitty following their example.
“I certainly do like to dance,” Charles Bingley spoke up in answer to Mrs Bennet’s premature question. “Would you do me the honour, Miss Bennet?”
At this invitation, Jane looked almost alarmed, her pretty face blushing, although she had been pale all evening until now. No answer was required, however. Mrs Bennet laughed loudly again and shook her head at Mr Bingley.
“You had better ask Elizabeth to dance, Mr Bingley. Jane is already taken for the next dance and any others that Lord Grantchester might care to claim. Is that not so, Lord Grantchester?”
For the first time that evening, Elizabeth saw a slight awkwardness in Lord Grantchester.
She felt a renewed pang of frustration at her mother and suppressed a grimace.
It seemed all too likely that while Lord Grantchester had informed his family, he had not yet told his friends of his engagement, and was now being strong-armed into it in a most uncomfortable fashion.
“You have anticipated me, Mrs Bennet,” the earl said, fixing his smile again on his face before looking to his friends. “There is some news my friends have yet to learn. Darcy, Bingley, I am to be married to Jane Bennet. I hope you will wish us joy.”
As he spoke, Lord Grantchester took Jane’s arm again, and she clung to him slightly, more as if for stability than affection. Elizabeth gathered that her sister was no more comfortable than her husband-to-be with Mrs Bennet’s social machinations.
Several long seconds of silence followed.
Elizabeth saw surprise on the faces of all Lord Grantchester’s friends, and more than a touch of disappointment on Mr Bingley’s face.
But in the manner of a true gentleman, this latter was quickly wiped away, and Mr Bingley recovered himself enough to smile broadly at the couple.
“I certainly do wish you both joy, Lord Grantchester, Miss Bennet,” he told them both, shaking Lord Grantchester’s hand with feeling.
“You are a very lucky man, Grantchester.”
Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst also fell swiftly into congratulations after their first astonishment, and a look of shared intelligence that passed between them.
Something in this brief glance unnerved Elizabeth, although she could not say why.
She guessed it to be a silent comment on Jane’s supposed skill in catching an earl with only a pretty face and no fortune.
Still, they seemed sincere in their well-wishes.
“Lord Grantchester, Miss Bennet, I trust you will be very happy together,” Miss Bingley told the pair with a smile. “What joy it must bring to both families.”
“Felicitations, my dear Miss Bennet, Lord Grantchester. A wife is exactly what this man needs,” added Mrs Hurst gladly. “What wonderful news. Where will the wedding take place?”
As Mrs Bennet launched into an outline of present thinking on the time and place of the actual wedding, Mr Bingley approached Elizabeth.
“May I have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked very civilly, although Elizabeth could hear that some of the eagerness was gone from his voice compared to his earlier invitation to Jane.
“Certainly, sir,” she answered readily.
Charles Bingley seemed pleasant and gentlemanly, and Elizabeth did feel some sympathy for him.
If Jane had not already met Lord Grantchester, Mr Bingley might have been exactly the kind of amiable and good-natured young man Elizabeth could have imagined for her sister.
If he was as struck by Jane as he seemed, it would be as well to remove him from Jane’s vicinity for the comfort of both.
“Does your friend care for dancing too, Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth thought to add, aware of the sulky expression deepening on Kitty’s face, and the presence of the equally unhappy-seeming Mr Darcy.
Mr Darcy himself was within earshot and might easily have answered Elizabeth himself, or taken her prompt to ask Kitty to dance.
He did not, however. Staring at Lord Grantchester in apparent consternation, he gave every sign of not having heard a word anyone had spoken since his friend announced his betrothal to Jane.
“Are you quite serious, Grantchester?” Mr Darcy demanded of his friend, this question sounding rather rudely to Elizabeth’s ear. “You are engaged to be married to Miss Jane Bennet?”
His dark-blue eyes glowering, Mr Darcy barely even glanced at Jane.
He took no account of anyone else at all.
Mr Darcy spoke as though he and Lord Grantchester were the only people involved in the conversation.
Had the way he referred to Jane held something of contempt?
Elizabeth couldn’t quite be sure, but he certainly did not seem happy about the engagement.
“I am entirely serious,” Lord Grantchester replied levelly, meeting Mr Darcy’s severe gaze with his own better-tempered resolution. “I consider myself fortunate that a young lady as lovely, sweet-natured, and intelligent as Miss Jane Bennet will be my wife.”
“I should think so too,” put in Mrs Bennet crossly, not entirely sure what was happening but perceiving some slight to her blameless eldest daughter. “Well said, Lord Grantchester.”
“Grantchester,” Mr Darcy said, a warning tone in his voice, and again ignoring Mrs Bennet and everyone else around them.
Lord Grantchester had turned away, however, determined not to be drawn, and was smiling at Jane. “Let us go and dance, Miss Bennet. We have stood about here too long.”
With Jane’s nod of assent, they departed towards the dance floor, Jane’s blank face giving no clue as to what she might feel about this strange semi-confrontation.
Elizabeth took exception on her behalf, unable to prevent herself from glaring at Mr Darcy.
After his rudeness, he should expect nothing more.
“Who does he think he is?” Mrs Bennet said resentfully, seeming minded to vent her spleen about Mr Darcy almost to his face.
Any ire was wasted on Mr Darcy, however. Having watched Lord Grantchester and his partner all the way to the dance floor, he shook his head angrily and stalked away in the opposite direction without taking his leave of either the Bennet ladies or his own party.
Again, Mr Bingley’s sisters shared a private look whose meaning Elizabeth could not readily discern. They then curtsied and stepped back to gossip together in hushed tones in a corner.
“Shall we, Miss Elizabeth?” said Mr Bingley. Elizabeth suddenly realised had been beside her all the time, although he had not spoken.
“Why, yes, Mr Bingley,” she answered, laying a hand on his arm. “I am sorry that your friend Mr Darcy is out of sorts tonight.”
“I cannot understand it,” Mr Bingley confessed, shaking his head.
As they took their places for the dance, his cheerful face was bemused.
“Darcy never enjoys these sorts of events, but he ought to have at least congratulated Grantchester. I’m sure he will later, and I do hope your sister will forgive him. Darcy is a good sort, really.”
“Well, Mr Darcy has excellent friends whose loyalty must count in his favour,” Elizabeth returned, reflecting to herself that if both Lord Grantchester and Mr Bingley thought well of Mr Darcy, there must be more to him than this initial bad impression.
Then again, Lord Grantchester was a rich and titled man. Mr Bingley could hardly be poor if he had rented Netherfield Park. It was not impossible that Mr Darcy should show one face to his wealthy and well-connected friends and another to the Bennet family, who lacked riches or aristocratic links.
Indignant again on Jane’s behalf, Elizabeth tried to put the matter from her mind for now and smiled at her dance partner instead. She was sure of one thing, at least. After such an introduction, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley would have to make a considerable effort to gain her good opinion.