Chapter Seven
Elizabeth’s third week in London was far superior to her second.
Mr. Darcy took her rebuke to heart; his behavior to her at Matlock House softened into what it had been before, and though they did not speak of their kiss, nor attempt another, the intimacy between them grew daily.
So, too, did Lady Catherine’s suspicion.
He sent her flowers, as promised – three times that week – but after the first instance, Lady Catherine determined that though this card was also signed only with the letter D, the script was entirely different.
She began to watch Elizabeth more closely at dinner, where she was always consumed by her conversations with Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth could feel her mother’s displeasure, but she was resolved not to alter her behavior unless she was expressly commanded to do so – and perhaps not even then.
The inevitable edict she feared came at the end of that week, the morning after Lady Darrow’s ball. Elizabeth came down to breakfast quite late, but her mother was waiting for her. Alone.
Elizabeth was surprised that nobody else was about, for there were eight other residents of the house, and though some woke early while others kept more fashionable hours, the breakfast nook had never been so empty.
A sense of foreboding came over her as she made her plate at the sideboard, but she sat down across from her mother determined to be chipper.
“You were quite right about Lady Darrow, Mamma. She does know how to throw a good party. But it is a pity that Aunt Anne does not care for her; Georgie would have been in raptures over the theme of Atlantis. The dancers made to look like mermaids were excellent.”
“No, Anne does not like her at all. Thirty years ago, Lady Darrow might have preferred to be Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Catherine quipped, and then her eyes narrowed. “Something you may perhaps have in common with her, child.”
Elizabeth gulped down her mouthful of coddled egg. “What?”
“Do not play coy with me, Lizzy. I have been watching your behavior with Mr. Darcy, and I am gravely concerned for you, my dear. Our first week in London, I believed it was just that – your enthusiasm for being in town, meeting new people who may be considered reasonably agreeable – the last time you made any new acquaintance it was the odious de Bourghs. I had no objection to your being civil to the dowager countess’s guests, when you assured me that that was all it was.
Affable new people in the home of your kin, where you feel comfortable – not ideal, but acceptable.
I had even thought for a time that you had accepted my warning to let it go no further – and I had hoped Mr. Darcy also comprehended my demeanor toward him, and detached himself from his permanent place at your side. ”
Elizabeth let out a sharp breath, her brows furrowing.
Of course, she had noticed her mother’s icy civility toward Mr. Darcy, but she had not considered that he would actually be deterred by these discouraging postures.
And yet, he had told her at Vauxhall that he was intimidated by her mother’s lofty aspirations for her. “Mamma….”
Lady Catherine ignored her and continued her strictures.
“And then, this past week, I was quite amazed and appalled! Just when you have so many fine prospects to choose from – and likely more yet to be met with – when you might have your pick of titled, eligible men of good families and splendid income – you have both gone back again, and resumed your insupportable flirting! It is not to be borne, Elizabeth! He is nothing to the kind of great man you might have.”
“Mr. Darcy is a great man!”
“He is tolerable, but not grand enough to tempt me; I should never consider him an option for you. Not as my heiress, a refined girl of exceptional beauty, wit, and accomplishment. Perhaps if you had been brought up no better than what your father might have done for you at Longbourn, Mr. Darcy would be perfectly acceptable, desirable even. He is a middling landowner from an unremarkable country backwater, such a gentleman as one might find a dozen of, in any drawing room of London – and all of them clamoring to recommend themselves to an intelligent, talented, and pretty woman with thirty thousand pounds.”
“Surely you cannot think him a fortune hunter, Mamma! If he were, I would know it. You have said yourself that I am intelligent – why any fortune hunter would pursue a young lady with the wit to see through him, I cannot imagine.”
Lady Catherine bristled with vexation. “Well, you do not deny your attachment! But I suppose that is something to your credit. You are too obstinate and headstrong to deceive me by concealing what you feel. And how could you deny it, when you danced with him three times last night?”
Elizabeth blushed, feeling a swell of euphoria at recollection of her dances with Mr. Darcy.
Each had been more heated and thrilling than the last. “Jane danced thrice with Richard, and I am sure my dear friend Miss Darrow did the same with Sir Rolland Moore. Even Rebecca danced twice with Lord Douglas, which I should call far more scandalous than anything, since she seldom dances, and never with the same gentleman twice.”
“Miss Darrow and her cousin are engaged, and Richard and Jane are courting, with the unified approbation of all their nearest family. And Rebecca – the whole ton knows she is deranged; nobody cares what she does.”
To Elizabeth’s uncontrollable hilarity, it was at just this moment that her favorite cousin entered the room.
Rebecca held a very dignified pose as she began piling her plate with kippers and little cakes.
“Good Morning, Aunt. I hope you will forgive my weariness this morning; I was up late last night after we returned from the ball, howling at the moon with all the other lunatics.” She primly took a seat beside Elizabeth and smiled across the table at her aunt. “Ahwooo.”
Elizabeth tried – and failed – to subdue her laughter, and her mother gave a heavy sigh.
“Well, we are halfway through our time in London, and I believe we ought not trespass on the dowager countess’s hospitality any further.
Lady Findlay has already hinted to me that there is room for me and my girls at her house, and I know it would please my sister if we removed ourselves there. ”
“What? Are you leaving Matlock House?" Rebecca set her fork down with a loud clang and gaped between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine.
Elizabeth knew exactly what her mother was about – she meant to get her away from Mr. Darcy.
But she had no intention of making matters worse by quarreling, as Rebecca appeared ready to do.
Instead, she smiled as if she was not at all devastated.
“We have not seen enough of Aunt Anne! And Georgiana will be delighted. I think she and Miss Darrow will make great friends.”
Lady Catherine’s eyes flashed with surprise at Elizabeth’s calm acceptance. “And you shall have another three weeks to meet with some excellent young men of quality. I believe Lady Findlay’s nephew, the Viscount Milton is expected in town; he is to dine with us there tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!” Rebecca grimaced. “You are leaving so suddenly? But how will Elizabeth’s coterie of followers know where to find her?”
“I trust your mother employs adequately capable footmen who may inform them of where we may be found,” Lady Catherine sniffed. “It is not far.”
“But we shall still see one another a great deal,” Elizabeth said, patting her cousin on the shoulder. “I could hardly endure the marquess without your japes to make his company palatable.”
“Have a care, Lizzy,” Lady Catherine said archly. “Rebecca’s behavior will only render your own manners vastly more desirable in any gentleman’s estimation.”
Rebecca screwed up her face, fidgeted for a moment, and then turned away, leaving Elizabeth perplexed. She could not ask why Rebecca would pass up a chance to boast of her talent for repelling men in droves, for Jane came down to join them.
When Lady Catherine informed her that they would be removing to Lady Findlay’s house that afternoon, Jane’s shoulders sagged, but she nodded. “I suppose it would not be right to reside under the same roof as cousin Richard, now that he and I are courting in earnest.”
“Precisely,” Lady Catherine said, though Elizabeth knew that had little to do with it.
Her mother would happily let Jane and Richard share a bedchamber if it brought their union about faster.
No, she wished to separate Elizabeth from Mr. Darcy, but it was useless to protest. Elizabeth was cleverer than that.
“I hope I have enough space in my trunk for all the new gowns I have acquired. Perhaps you would help me pack, Rebecca?”
“Can you not ask a servant?” But when Rebecca looked up at Elizabeth, who was already on her feet, she raised a brow knowingly.
“Oh, very well.” Rebecca stood, glanced down at her plate with longing, and then shoved an oat cake into her mouth before trailing after Elizabeth, grumbling through her mouthful of pastry.
Upstairs, Elizabeth hurled herself onto the bed and pressed a pillow to her face before letting out a very satisfying shriek of frustration.
She put the pillow back in place, and gave it a thump of her fist for good measure.
“Just when things are finally right between Mr. Darcy and I! She knows we are in love, and wishes to take me away from him because he is not up to her exacting standards.”
“In love! You have been acquainted three weeks,” Rebecca cried. “How can you be in love already? Were you not exceedingly cross with him for one of those three weeks?”