Chapter 15 #3
Mr Bingley soon walked over to join them, three ices in his hands and an affable smile on his face.
“You said that you were in need of some refreshment after the last measure, Mrs Gardiner. I brought an ice for you too, Miss Elizabeth.”
Thanking him, they took the ices, and Elizabeth asked after his sisters.
“You are very kind to attend us tonight when you have Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley to consider too,” Mrs Gardiner added. “We would not want you to neglect them.”
“Oh, Louisa and Caroline have their own friends here and little desire to speak with me. I have been dismissed until I am required — the prerogative of sisters,” he laughed. “Have no fear on that account.”
“Well, we do appreciate this, Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth assured him, feeling confident that she would not be misconstrued. “I was just thinking that an ice or a lemonade would be most welcome after the reel I danced with Lord Keeble.”
“Mrs Gardiner and I felt the same,” answered Mr Bingley, who had danced with her aunt. “It is very warm in here with all the candles and the people…”
Mr Bingley’s voice trailed off, and Elizabeth could see that his eyes and his thoughts were drawn to something over her shoulder.
When she turned unobtrusively to look, she was unsurprised to see Jane and Lord Grantchester in the middle of obvious introductions to yet another group of his acquaintances.
Poor Mr Bingley! His admiration and sadness were both so clearly written on his face, and yet there was nothing Elizabeth could do but be his friend. She did not think she had ever seen a man pining quite like this.
In an ideal world, it would be best if Mr Bingley could meet someone else to distract him from Jane, but at the moment, Elizabeth had the feeling he would hardly see even the most beautiful and accomplished woman in the world if she stood directly in front of him. Love was indeed blind.
“Who is that lady talking to Lord Grantchester now, Mr Bingley?” asked Mrs Gardiner, following their line of sight but likely oblivious to Mr Bingley’s heartache. “I do not know her.”
“The Marchioness of Otford,” he answered. “Her husband is the smaller man on the left.”
“Ah, yes. She is his second wife, isn’t she? I remember reading of their wedding last year. His first wife died some years ago.”
As Mr Bingley and Mrs Gardiner talked more of Lord and Lady Otford, Elizabeth ate her ice and glanced around the rest of the room. For what felt like the hundredth time that evening, her eyes lighted on Mr Darcy.
Like many others, his eyes were on Lord Grantchester and Jane, but there was neither curiosity, friendship, nor joy in his stern look.
It was the same, almost angry expression he had been wearing every time his gaze fell upon his friend.
Elizabeth supposed he was increasingly unhappy at being snubbed, but she had little sympathy on that account.
Betrothed couples were always a little self-involved.
Even as Elizabeth watched, Mr Darcy drew himself up decisively and moved across the floor towards Lord Grantchester.
Leaning into his friend, he whispered something inaudible but apparently urgent in his ear.
When Lord Grantchester seemed about to brush him off again, he whispered something else that made him freeze and look around the room with something close to guilt.
To Elizabeth’s astonishment, both Mr Darcy and Lord Grantchester then looked towards herself and Mrs Gardiner!
Elizabeth quickly looked away. What had Mr Darcy said to produce such an odd effect?
The question was tantalising, but Elizabeth told herself firmly that it was really none of her business, as long as it did not concern Jane.
Finishing her ice, she placed the empty glass on a nearby table and then yawned.
“I’m going to the retiring rooms, Aunt,” she told Mrs Gardiner. “If you are not here when I return, I shall assume you have gone in for supper and will find you in the buffet room.”
“May I help you find a table for supper?” Mr Bingley offered gallantly. His offer was quickly accepted by Mrs Gardiner and looked on with a smile of approval by Elizabeth.
∞∞∞
Coming out of the retiring rooms, Elizabeth paused to browse a series of large paintings hung on a wall in one of the corridors and lit by candles for guests to admire.
It was a series of portraits of the Dukes of Suttonfield and Elizabeth laughed to herself on observing that the present duke was better looking and less eccentric in appearance than his predecessors, all of whom appeared to be cross-eyed, vacant in expression, and depicted with equally peculiar-looking animals, ranging from an unusually joyous weasel to a rather lugubrious ginger cat.
At the end of the series, Elizabeth perceived that there was another set of paintings continuing further along the corridor, although this was barely lit.
Taking up a candlestick, Elizabeth walked a little further and found the Duchesses of Suttonfield hanging there.
She amused herself by imagining that their faces were animated with long-suffering and pragmatic patience, resulting from years of living with eccentric dukes of odd habits and their curious animals.
“It is wrong, it is cruel, and you know it,” said a familiar man’s voice, raised slightly but not yet shouting. “You would not have avoided this discussion otherwise. You must make things right.”
The voice came from a chamber further down the corridor.
The door must not have shut properly when it was closed, for it stood slightly ajar, allowing some sound to be transmitted to her.
Elizabeth realised that there had been a hum of voices before, but too low for the words to be distinct.
Instinctively, she took a few further steps towards the chamber without thinking too deeply about what she was doing.
Whoever the speaker, they spoke with determination more than anger. Their tone was that of someone who cares deeply about the point they are making, rather than wishing to hurt or dominate the other person.
“Can I not have a wife as other men do?” responded a second man, almost pleading with the first.
This second voice was even more familiar, quickly placed by Elizabeth as belonging to Lord Grantchester. The first speaker would have revealed himself by his sentiments alone, even if Elizabeth had not recognised his voice before he spoke again.
“Certainly. If you must marry, Grantchester, there are many more appropriate ladies of the ton who would make more suitable brides,” said Mr Darcy.
“The Dowager Marchioness of Summerhill, for example, is a woman of worldliness and intelligence, with whom a man in your position might reach some civilised arrangement. Lady Jefferson, Lady Sophia Kettering…”
“None of them are as sweet-natured, beautiful, and good as Jane Bennet,” Lord Grantchester sighed.
“That is exactly why you cannot marry her, Grantchester,” Mr Darcy growled. “Think, man! You are not without principles or morals. It would be wrong.”
“Then you would deny me the right to be happy?” Lord Grantchester replied.
“You have the same right to be happy as any other man, but not at the expense of sacrificing an innocent party,” Mr Darcy told his friend implacably. “Do not twist my words or your own understanding. That does both of us a disservice.”
Lord Grantchester groaned as though in pain. When he next spoke, his voice sounded hoarse and slightly broken. “Yes, I know you are right, but it is so very hard, Darcy. You must not think this is easy for me.”
“I have never said that it was easy to do the right thing, only that it must be done.”
Another long sigh followed, and then footsteps sounded, walking towards the door and back towards the corridor where Elizabeth stood. Realising her position as an eavesdropper on an intimate conversation, she pushed at the nearest door and thankfully found it unlocked.
“I must go now, Darcy. Jane will be looking for me. I will think on all you have said.”
Belatedly, Elizabeth’s ire rose in her veins as she put together the jumble of what she had overheard.
So, Darcy considered Jane an unsuitable and inappropriate wife for his friend – that much she already knew, although it was hard to hear it said aloud.
He had gone further tonight, however, even suggesting other women – titled, worldly, and intelligent women, by his own description – that his friend might better marry.