15
Lady Goddard beckoned Jane to her side. “Your arm, if you please, Miss. I would take a walk around the room. At my age one grows stiff if you sit in one position for too long. No, do not disturb yourself, Mrs Darcy. Finish your tea. I myself do not eat a great deal, but I am sure your youngest will find those little lemon cakes enjoyable.”
She cast a sideways look at Bennetta whose innocent glance from under her eyelashes did not fool her for a moment. The minx had pretended to choke so her mother had had time to regain her composure.
Lady Goddard admired the quick thinking and decisive action.
She could see that at eighteen, the chit was already astoundingly pretty and was only grateful that she was not any older.
She could tell that in lots of ways she was still a child, but one day, some poor man was going to have to deal with her.
Lady Goddard was only grateful it would not be Archer.
Leaning on Jane’s arm, she walked slowly to the far end of the long room where the windows looked out onto a small wilderness. It was dark outside now and only a few solitary lanterns lit the pebble paths that wound their way through the shrubbery.
“So your future may lie in the county of Cheshire, Miss Jane?”
Jane did not know how to reply. Yes or no—both sounded wrong. “None of us can see the future, Ma’am.”
“Too true, girl, too true. Of course, we can always make an informed guess. Take my grandson, for example.” She flashed a swift glance at her companion and saw the colour wash up and then down in her cheeks. “As you know he is a very successful lawyer.”
“So I believe.”
“But politics has always been his first love. I think once he enters Parliament, his career will soar. Why, you may even be able to boast in a few years’ time that you took tea with the Prime Minister!”
“Indeed, I am sure all his many friends would be proud if that day should come.”
“Yes, but I wonder if you are aware how difficult the path is that he has chosen to walk. Powerful men can be very lonely. Archer will need a certain type of woman at his side in the future. One who is as ambitious as he is himself. A woman who can charm and influence great men.”
“I am sure that any woman your grandson chooses will be the right one.”
Lady Goddard turned from the darkness of the window and continued to walk slowly back up the length of the room the black silk of her gown swishing across the floor like the hissing of a snake.
“I have devoted my life to the cause of Archer’s career.
He has all the brains and ability needed to succeed, I have all the money. ”
Jane felt a little quiver of disgust. Surely service to your country was what was required in a politician. Why should money be a factor? But she was not so naive as to know that without backing, a gentleman stood no chance of succeeding in politics.
“It sounds like an ideal combination, Ma’am.”
“That may well be the case, but I feel all his friends and acquaintance should know that I will only fund Archer’s career if he marries wisely, if he marries a girl whom I think will help him advance in his chosen profession.
If he chooses to marry someone else—” she cast a glance sideways at her companion’s white, set face—“then I shall not give a penny piece to him from that day onwards.”
Jane made no reply, indeed she could think of nothing to say that would not show her repugnance towards the elderly lady’s attitude.
She was, however, puzzled. Why was she being told this information?
Could Lady Goddard possibly believe that Archer intended to marry her!
How ridiculous. Everyone knew that Anne was his intended wife.
“I would like to think that anyone who considers themselves Archer’s friend, would do all in their power to smooth his path.
If, for example, you were a young lady who was totally unfit for the rigours of life as a politician’s wife, then if you truly cared for my grandson you would give up all claim on him. ”
“And does Mr Maitland know of your decisions in this matter?”
“Indeed he does. I think I can safely say that Archer and I are in complete agreement regarding the situation. And now, here is my chair once more. Thank you for your arm, Miss Jane. Now, perhaps you would be kind enough to honour us with a few little tunes on the piano. I dismissed Purkiss for the afternoon and I think a little music before the afternoon comes to an end would be very agreeable.”
She beckoned to Anne, who moved to her side and they began murmuring to each other, their voices too low for anyone else to hear.
Elizabeth Darcy glanced round the room, wishing heartily that she could just get up and leave.
Bennetta’s useful fit of coughing had saved her from saying something unforgivable to Lady Goddard.
If Anne was to become Mrs Archer Maitland, then the two families would have to have at least an appearance of accord.
She sighed: she loved her eldest daughter dearly even though she irritated her a great deal.
She saw all the faults that had been there in her husband’s early character appearing once again and it seemed that however hard she tried, she could not eradicate them.
And, what was worse, Elizabeth sometimes thought she could see a startling resemblance in Anne to her sister Lydia.
Not in looks or scandalous behaviour, of course. But the ruthlessness of putting yourself first, of obtaining what you wanted regardless of how it affected anyone else, allowed memories to surface of the young Lydia Bennet and all the shame she had nearly brought on her family.
Anne had decided to marry Archer but Elizabeth could not see that it would be a happy marriage.
On the surface he seemed as hard-headed and ambitious as she was, but Elizabeth was not at all sure that was true.
Her sharp eyes had caught sight of his face when he had entered the room with Jane earlier.
His usually dark, saturnine face had been lit up, as if fired by some extreme emotion.
But that expression had vanished when he spoke to Anne and his grandmother.
Surely he did not have feelings for Jane!
She wondered, suddenly, what exactly had happened between them down in Dorset.
Jane had said very little, but then she never did.
If it had been Bennetta, then Elizabeth knew she would have had a word for word account of every conversation, but Jane had always kept her silence.
She relaxed a little as she glanced across to where the younger twin was standing beside the pianoforte as Archer entered the room once more and walked up to her and relaxed. There was no sign on Jane’s face that she was delighted to be in his presence, that she liked him in any extraordinary way.
Then, once again, the past pushed its way into Elizabeth’s mind and she was back at Longbourn, talking to her dear friend, Charlotte, now long departed this world, who felt that Jane Bennet should show Charles Bingley that she cared for him.
Elizabeth had argued that it was not in her sister’s character to do so and Charlotte had advised that the young man in question had no way of knowing that and might well feel that she was indifferent towards him.
She would have been glad of the opportunity to think more on the subject, but Celeste and Andrew Moore chose that moment to join her and conversation turned to what Greece would be like the spring and how Celeste longed for the sun once more.
Elizabeth smiled warmly at the couple: here at least was one relationship that was happy and straightforward.
***
Archer had walked the length of the street and black, glad of the cold night air on his face, fighting down his quick temper.
With every fibre of his being he refused to believe that his feelings for Jane were not reciprocated, that she had been playing the dangerous game of jealousy between himself and Frobisher.
He could recall, only too vividly, the kiss between them on the night of the fire.
That had not been done to influence anyone.
She had returned his embrace with all the passion he knew lay just beneath the cool calmness of her appearance.
No, until Jane told him in her own voice where her affections lay, he would not believe gossip or speculation.
Entering the drawing room once more, aware of his grandmother, her gaze sharp, he crossed to where Jane was now standing, looking at sheet music lying on the pianoforte.
“Will you play for us, Jane?”
She looked up quickly and shook her head. “No, Sir. Not today. It is a fine instrument and I will not do it justice. Perhaps Anne will oblige you.”
“She may well do so, if I ask, but I would prefer to hear from you.”
There was another silence and he was aware that his grandmother was still watching them.
He found himself saying in an abrupt fashion, “Anne has been telling me more of your attachment to Digby Frobisher, how he broke your heart earlier this year. I admit I had heard it mentioned by Celeste when we were all together in Dorset, but of course I did not enquire any further. I hope you are now fully recovered.”
“Quite recovered, thank you.”
“The gentleman in question is currently in town, I believe, perhaps anxious to renew his attentions. Is that the type of life that would suit you, Jane? Being married, living quietly in the country, much as you do at Pemberley, I imagine. Somehow you strike me as a young lady who needs more excitement than that.”