Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Upon all the ladies being seated, Darcy settled onto the chair next to Miss Elizabeth.
“How fortunate I am to find an unoccupied spot alongside such a charming dinner companion.” About to dip his spoon into a dish of spicy mulligatawny soup, he looked across the way, realised he had been remiss, and was eager to remedy his carelessness.
“I am also delighted to find myself sitting across from you once again, Miss Wright.”
She simpered at him. “The pleasure is mine, sir, as always.”
Throughout the first course, which included Atlantic salmon, and well into the second, Darcy engaged in a little repartee with Miss Elizabeth, the woman he never could marry. Not even for a second could he imagine exchanging banter with the woman he might or might not wed.
It was then that Miss Wright directly addressed Miss Elizabeth for the first time. “Miss Bennet, I assume you have come to the seaside for your health.”
“No, not at all. I came with Miss Hughes, at her behest.”
“Oh. Then I do beg your pardon. I had assumed you were in poor health because you are so slender.” Miss Wright then cut her eyes towards Miss Baker.
“Of course, one can, conversely, be too heavy. In any event, I suppose I should have realised you are not ill, for your face has no pallor. In fact, your complexion is terribly bronzed. Do you not think so, Mr Darcy?”
“Summer does have a habit of doing that, madam.”
Miss Wright’s actions with knife and fork became quicker, sharper. “May I be so bold, Miss Bennet, as to suggest Gowlands Lotion?”
“Why, thank you, Miss Wright.” Miss Elizabeth smiled sweetly. “I presume the costly cosmetic is part of your daily toilette. However, I am fortunate to rarely suffer from unsightly blemishes.”
Darcy pressed his lips together lest they dare curl upwards. Miss Wright did have a bit of an eruption of some sort on her forehead.
Seated apropos at Miss Baker’s right, Mr Wright spoke up.
“Every adult can benefit from Gowlands to maintain or restore one’s bloom.
” The coxcomb glanced at his hostess’s scarred face before turning away in apparent abhorrence.
“I use the lotion myself and credit its application with preserving my youthful, fair complexion, although such an advantage does run in my family.”
And this is the man who might become my father-in-law? What vanity. What foppery. Admittedly, Darcy could be fastidious, but he was not yet inordinately concerned about ageing.
“You may not have realised it,” continued Mr Wright, “but we are related to the Wyndhams, an ancient and noble family of Felbrigg, which is in Norfolk, from whence we have our origins.” The already puffed-up gentleman inflated his lungs, swelling his chest. “Thomas Wyndham was counsellor to King Henry VIII.”
By Jove! Was that meant to be a glowing commendation? While taking a sip of Rhenish wine, Darcy was gratified to notice Georgiana quietly conversing with the Bakers’ niece, with whom he hoped she might become friends.
After Mr Wright’s boast, however, Miss Hughes sent a glare all the way down the table to the bombastic man. “Well, sir, I can trace my lineage to the court of the first King George. My great-great-grandfather was a favourite of— Oh, I do beg your pardon. I believe I have said too much.”
What the dickens? Darcy glanced round the table. Miss Elizabeth had put her hand to her unblemished brow, the Bakers exchanged a look that he could not interpret, and Georgiana seemed merely curious. As for the Wright family, all four mouths were nearly gaping and their eyes bulging.
The Wright patriarch gazed upon Miss Hughes in amazement.
“What a pity our James was not able to join us. The company here is grand, indeed. And, daughters, I have just had a most splendid thought. I must write to your dear brother at the Albany and insist that he accept Mr Darcy’s kind invitation to Strandsmere Park after all. ”
Leaning close to Miss Elizabeth, Darcy whispered, “’Tis presumptuous of him. I had not realised that my invitation was still open.”
“What are you so secretly saying to Miss Bennet, sir? May I not hear what it is?” Miss Wright fiddled with her necklace.
Darcy wondered whether the woman was restless or nervous. More likely she simply wishes to draw attention to that bold gemstone pendant dangling there. “I was merely speaking of your brother’s invitation to Strandsmere, madam.”
“Oh, you are so generous with your invitations, sir, and we do appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Miss Wright’s eyes shifted to Miss Elizabeth.
“Mr Darcy and I frequently dine together when not at our family estates. In town, we are almost neighbours, both having residences in Marylebone, which is a highly respectable neighbourhood within easy walking distance of Mayfair.”
“Then that must make you both very happy. As Mr Darcy may be aware, my relations reside east of Marylebone, and I am always gratified whenever invited to visit them there.”
In Cheapside. Yes, I am aware. There was nothing wrong with the neighbourhood, other than the fact it was an unfashionable commercial district.
But Darcy seemed to recall that Miss Elizabeth’s uncle lived somewhere near Cheapside, not in it.
He also remembered Bingley saying that if the Bennet sisters had uncles enough to fill all of Cheapside, it would not make them one jot less agreeable.
And I replied that it materially lessened their chance of marrying men of any consideration in the world.
He could not marry Miss Elizabeth himself, but he wanted to see her advantageously wed.
There had been speculation that her odious cousin, Mr Collins, wanted to make her his bride.
Instead, he had married Miss Elizabeth’s good friend. Thank God.
“Speaking of invitations and visiting,” said Miss Wright, “perhaps you do not know that Mr Darcy and I have been seen together at numerous soirées, balls, and other town diversions. Why, all the country must know of our friendship, for it has been written of in the papers more than once, linked only by our initials, of course. But then I suppose you do not receive The Morning Post or The Morning Chronicle in your part of the country. You are able to read, are you not, Miss Bennet?”
“Yes. But I am not a great reader.” Miss Elizabeth seemed to be stifling a smile as she turned slightly towards Darcy.
“In any event, my family has become intimate with Mr Darcy’s.
” Taking up her napkin, Miss Wright daintily dabbed the corners of her mouth.
“Now, this is merely coincidental, of course, but Barleybrae is my father’s estate, and Mr Darcy’s is called Pemberley, which means ‘from the barley hill’.
Is that not rich?” She issued such a shrill little laugh that a fleeting grimace appeared on Miss Elizabeth’s countenance.
“Why, our Althea and dear Miss Darcy even attended a prestigious academy together.”
“How lovely for them both. My sisters and I never attended a seminary, never even had a governess.”
“Then who taught you? Your mother?”
“Regarding household matters, yes.”
“Then you were fortunate, Miss Bennet. My own mother died when I was but sixteen, so I did not have her prudent guidance when I took on the responsibilities of mistress of Barleybrae.”
“I am truly sorry for your loss, Miss Wright. As for education, my father encouraged us to read extensively. We had all the masters that were necessary, such as for dance instruction. I dare say my sisters and I do not disgrace ourselves at neighbourhood assemblies, like some others have done.” Miss Elizabeth turned to Darcy. “Is that not your experience, sir?”
A hit, a very palpable hit! “What of private balls?” asked he, thinking of Netherfield.
“Might members of one’s family not disgrace themselves there?
” It was unpardonably rude of him to mention that wretched night, but had Miss Elizabeth not just done the same by bringing up his behaviour at the Meryton assembly?
“Peace, sir. Let us not debate the matter here and now.”
“Which reminds me—” Darcy paused to serve Miss Elizabeth a portion of stuffed and roasted capons. “I believe you and I have some other unfinished business.” At her look of wary confusion, he explained. “Yesterday you stated that further discussion would be required on a certain debatable word.”
“Ah yes. The word debate itself.”
Miss Wright would not be disregarded. “Speaking of debatable, I was contemplating something you mentioned earlier, Miss Bennet. I think it unlikely that a lady might achieve worthwhile talents from books, so I am curious. Which accomplishment are you able to claim as a result of merely reading?”
Darcy immediately answered, “The improvement of her mind. According to John Locke, education begins the gentleman, but reading, good company, and reflection must finish him. The same can be said of a lady, can it not? Or perhaps you would care to debate the matter, Miss Wright.” When that lady frowned but made no response, he addressed his hostess.
“Miss Baker, may I apply to you for some after-dinner music this evening?”
“I shall be happy to ask the young ladies to perform. What better way is there for them to demonstrate their refinement and desirability as wives?”
Mr Baker, Mr Wright, and he being the only bachelors in attendance, Darcy thought the ladies’ pickings were rather slim.
“Perhaps I might even convince Miss Bennet to play.” Miss Baker had the audacity to give him a subtle wink.
Although astonished by her gesture, Darcy merely said, “There are many more important requirements for the future mistress of Pemberley than proficiency on the pianoforte, madam. But who can object to the charms of both young ladies and of music?”
After the women withdrew, Mr Baker reached for a bottle and poured liqueur into three small glasses. “Have you gentlemen tried kümmel? It is a digestif flavoured with caraway seeds. Your uncle took a liking to it, Mr Darcy.”