Chapter Five #2
Greetings were exchanged. Miss Bingley had accumulated a wide collection of disdainful expressions, and she employed several to great effect. “How do you know Lord and Lady Portland?” she asked, as though granting the other young woman a great favor.
“They are friends of Lady Sterling’s,” Miss Elizabeth responded. “My sister and I are her guests for the Season.”
No doubt her brother had been extolling Miss Bennet’s virtues to her, and she was less than thrilled to broaden their acquaintance with that family. “My brother has given me to understand you have other family in London,” Miss Bingley said.
But Miss Elizabeth refused to be shamed by the other woman. “Yes, my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Gardiner. They live in Cheapside. Gracechurch Street.”
Darcy managed not to wince, but Miss Elizabeth spoke with every appearance of composure.
“I do not know anyone in that part of town,” Miss Bingley drawled. “But perhaps I have frequented their shop.”
“Perhaps you have, although my uncle has recently sold the business.” Miss Elizabeth smiled pleasantly. “Gardiner’s Textiles?”
“Yes, I have been there.” Miss Bingley’s words were clipped.
“They do have the most marvelous selection!” Lady Sterling opined.
“Everyone in London says so,” Miss Elizabeth said serenely.
How could she be so sanguine about such low connections?
“I purchased some lovely red satin there,” Mrs. Hurst said unexpectedly. “Your uncle has quite an eye for fabric.”
Miss Bingley glared at her sister, who remained oblivious.
“I believe I dined with your uncle at Lord Carrington’s house,” Mr. Hurst added, surprisingly. “A most amiable fellow.”
“He is indeed.”
Miss Bingley scowled; the Hursts were not performing their parts in her play. “The Gardiners are not here today?” she asked, knowing full well that they would not be invited to today’s event.
“They are from Town,” Miss Elizabeth replied, neatly avoiding the issue.
Darcy was extremely diverted.
And curious. Despite being in trade, Miss Elizabeth’s relations must be quite genteel.
The Hursts were some of the most unpleasant people of Darcy’s acquaintance, but even they liked the Gardiners.
It made no difference to Darcy, but perhaps it would help if Bingley developed an attachment to Miss Bennet.
Miss Bingley edged closer to Darcy, a common contrivance of hers to give the appearance of some sort of understanding between them. Vexed by her behavior, he shifted away. Miss Elizabeth should not arrive at the wrong impression.
An awkward pause followed.
“Lady and Lord Portland are blessed with lovely weather for a party. So warm for this early in spring,” Miss Elizabeth observed.
“Yes, and I am impressed by the array of refreshments,” Hurst said, eyeing a table groaning with food. “Too often garden parties are stingy with their offerings.”
Darcy was not interested in the weather or the food, but he noticed his aunt greeting their hosts. Now would be an opportune time to demonstrate his attachment to Miss Elizabeth.
He cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth, as I recall, you like swans. This property boasts a family of swans at the pond. Would you like to visit them?”
Naturally, Miss Elizabeth had never mentioned swans to him. Oddly enough, the subject had not arisen at the Pritchards’ ball.
“How good of you to recall my passion for swans,” she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “I would like that above all other things.”
“I love swans as well!” Miss Bingley exclaimed.
But Darcy was prepared. He glanced down at her satin slippers. “I fear that a walk over the grass will ruin your delicate slippers.”
Miss Bingley frowned and glared at Miss Elizabeth’s half boots.
“No need to ruin your slippers unnecessarily,” Mrs. Hurst said to her sister. “There are the Montagues! Come, let us greet them.”
Mrs. Hurst pulled her sister away as Darcy offered Miss Elizabeth his arm. They set out across the lawn. The grass was a little damp from the morning’s rain, but she appeared not to notice. In fact, she was silent for a long time. Was something troubling her?
“I wanted my aunt to see us in company. I hope this is acceptable to you,” he said.
She blinked several times. “Oh! Yes. Forgive me. I was woolgathering.”
They were still within view of the terrace. Aunt Catherine followed them with her eyes. Excellent. The ruse is succeeding.
Miss Elizabeth fell silent again. Perhaps he could surmise the cause of her distress.
“I passed Viscount Harwood as I arrived.”
Miss Elizabeth started at the mention of his name.
“I hope he did not importune you again.”
“He made a few improper remarks, but…” She shook her head. “I reminded him that you might take offense.”
“Good.” Darcy was unconvinced by her story, but he could hardly press her for details.
They were almost strangers after all. He could only hope she would request assistance if she was in need.
After a pause, Darcy said, “Perhaps I should tell you a little of myself so that we might appear convincingly acquainted.”
“Indeed.”
As Darcy spoke, she seemed quite engaged in his life story, asking many questions. More than once, he stopped himself from becoming too loquacious. She could get me babbling like Hurst.
After he described his parents’ death and his guardianship of Georgiana, Miss Elizabeth remarked, “You were young to assume such responsibilities.”
He shrugged. “It was my duty.”
“And you always do your duty?”
“The alternative is anarchy.”
She regarded him in puzzlement. Did she not understand? It was glaringly obvious to him.
“You hold anarchy at bay by yourself?” she inquired with a slight smile.
Is she mocking me? “For Pemberley, I do. Hundreds of people depend upon me for their livelihood.”
“That is a weighty responsibility.” Her expression seemed genuinely sympathetic. “A young man grieving the loss of his father, assuming the duties of an enormous estate and comforting a young girl at the same time. It must have been terrible.”
Darcy stared at her. She barely knew him, and yet, she expressed concern for the young man he had been. How odd. No one worried about him; he cared for other people. “I thank you for your concern, but it was long ago. My father always believed that our travails only serve to strengthen us.”
“I have heard that said. But I am not convinced. The world is full of people who have been defeated by their troubles.”
In truth, Darcy endeavored to forget the days following his father’s death.
Everyone expected him to lead the way; he had felt he could not grieve.
He recalled Bingley telling him to cultivate a happier perspective: “Tomorrow will be better than today.” Darcy cherished Bingley’s friendship, but the man’s words had been unhelpful.
He experienced the strangest yearning to tell Miss Elizabeth about those horrible days after his father’s unexpected death, when he fumbled about, desperately missing a man who would never return, and forced to make more decisions than ever before. But such experiences were private.
He concealed his discomfort by turning the questions on her. “And what are your responsibilities?”
“Nothing compared to yours!” She gave him a rueful smile. “My life is rather dull.”
“I doubt anything about you could be dull.” The compliment slipped out, but then Darcy realized it was sincere. She was so different from the other women he knew. He would have expected to find her candor vexing, but instead, she was rather refreshing.
I should thank Aunt Catherine. Without her “assistance,” I would never have encountered Miss Elizabeth or known what I had missed.
At the same time, he needed to be on guard. She possessed a particularly enticing smile which radiated warmth. Not to mention her fine eyes. More than one man at the ball had noticed her. Miss Elizabeth might not attempt to entrap me, but her smile could seduce me into…excessive familiarity.
“I thank you, but I assure you that nothing of note has happened in my life.”
A life without the weight of responsibility sounded wonderful, but it seemed to burden Miss Elizabeth. She was lively and possessed a strong understanding. A life of embroidery and gossip might not suit her at all.
“I have lived in Hertfordshire all my life except for occasional visits to Town,” she said.
“You did not attend school?”
“A ladies’ academy? No, my parents did not send any of us.”
“How long did you have a governess?” he asked.
“We never employed a governess.” She stared down at her feet as they walked. “My parents taught us. Lady Sterling was good enough to hire some masters as well.”
What were her parents thinking? Five gently bred daughters and no governess?
She continued before Darcy could respond. “I rather wish a governess had educated us. I would have liked to learn Italian and French… So many young women do.”
Yes, Italian and French were part of most young women’s education. No doubt she would feel that lack in company with other women. Her parents should have better attended to her education.
“Your father must have a library.”
“Oh yes. I have read every book in it. Well, every book in English. But my father’s collection is…somewhat selective. He is exceedingly fond of the Peloponnesian War, but I would like to learn about other eras of history.”
Darcy imagined longing for further education, only to be denied the opportunity.
He had been particularly interested in William the Conqueror as a boy.
His tutor indulged him with additional lessons, and his father purchased every book Darcy desired.
Then, when he attended Cambridge, he had a world of knowledge at his fingertips.
Miss Elizabeth’s smile grew wistful. “When I was six years of age, I told my father I would attend Cambridge as he had. With no little amusement, he explained that I could not. I thought it most unfair that universities are available only to men.”
She laughed lightly, but what a sad discovery for the young Elizabeth.