CHAPTER FOUR #2
Minutes later, Mrs. Trenwith bustled in, glowing with good spirits.
Mrs. Trenwith had such an easy manner about her that her disposition could not be contrived.
Lizzy wondered if the woman’s temperament resulted more from nature or situation?
She would have thought one’s quality of wealth to contribute positively to a person’s good humor, but that was certainly not the case with the Bingley sisters or Mr. Darcy.
“What, have you not been served any tea while you were waiting?” Mrs. Trenwith asked after motioning for Lizzy to stay seated. She went to ring for a servant.
“I have trespassed upon your time sufficiently, I think,” Lizzy said.
“You are not to concern yourself with that. I confess I am quite interested in your company, you are a well-mannered young woman, and I mean to subject you to further interrogation.”
Lizzy could not help but smile and like Mrs. Trenwith more for the impudence.
“Now, Mr. Singh, we are better hosts than that,” she reproached the butler but with an air of such kindness that he could not take offense. She took a seat opposite Lizzy. “Now tell me of yourself.”
“There is little to tell, Mrs. Trenwith. I am not that interesting.”
“Abby. Every person is interesting to begin with. Tell me of your family. Have you brothers, sisters?”
“I have four sisters in all, the youngest at sixteen years of age.”
“Five daughters! Your mother must be under such pressure to have the future of so many secured. I have but one daughter. She is married to a barrister and living in London. One was sufficient for me to fret about. I cannot imagine five! But it is unkind of me to despair of your circumstances.”
Lizzy thought immediately of Jane and Mr. Bingley with anguish.
If anyone deserved to be happy in matrimony, it was Jane.
Lizzy had thought the two a perfect match in temperament and style, and had been convinced of their mutual attraction.
All of Hertfordshire had. But Jane had been some time in London, and still Bingley had not called upon her.
Only his sister, Caroline, had returned Jane’s numerous visits, and was even then such an altered creature, by Jane’s own account, that Jane resolved to continue the acquaintance no longer.
As for the younger Bennet sisters, Kitty and Lydia were silly creatures and Mary too irritable.
It was quite possible that none of the Bennet young women would see themselves in satisfactory marriages.
The thought made Lizzy more sympathetic to her mother’s frequent laments.
“If your sisters are as lovely as you, husbands will come easily enough,” Mrs. Trenwith added.
“That is a kindly statement, but, in truth, we have not much in the way of dowries or breeding to recommend us, though my sister Jane has the kindest heart and the most gentle disposition. She certainly deserves a good husband, but I am reconciled that providence is an essential ingredient. I have sometimes wished myself a man, that I could do more for my family, but neither sex is immune from necessity. There are men for whom matrimony is as much a means of security as for women.”
“It still hardly seems fair,” Mrs. Trenwith said with what seemed as much conviction as genuine empathy.
“La, but it is easy for me to say! I am one of the fortunate ones to have married a man of income, though it was not always thus. Some would regard us differently for while we have wealth, we lack breeding. We are of the bourgeoisie, you know. But as you will find upon being better acquainted with me, I care little for the opinions of others, and though I dispense mine own freely, I have no expectation that you will favour them any more than I would yours.”
“That is most evenhanded!” Lizzy praised, liking Mrs. Trenwith more with each passing moment.
Tea was served, and Lizzy took it gladly. She had worked up a good thirst, as well as an appetite.
“Have you traveled from far?”
“My family live in Hertfordshire, some fifty miles from here.”
“I know someone who was in the area of Hertfordshire recently.” Mrs. Trenwith appeared to comb her memory. “Ah, yes, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
Lizzy choked on her tea. She covered her mouth with her handkerchief, but it was some time before the coughing fit subsided.
“My dear, are you quite all right?”
Lizzy nodded, sure that she was blue in the face.
“Was there something amiss with the tea? Perhaps a leaf had got past the strainer?”
“No, the tea was fine. The name startled me is all.”
“What? Mr. Darcy? Do you know him?”
Regrettably, Lizzy answered in her mind. Aloud she said, “A close friend of his, Mr. Bingley, took up residence at a place called Netherfield Park, not far from Longbourn. My family had the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Bingley, and he was rarely without the company of Mr. Darcy.”
Mrs. Trenwith took a rare pause and appeared almost amused, though Lizzy could not guess what Mrs. Trenwith could find droll with her statement, which she had purposefully made as mundane as possible, not knowing the nature of the relationship between Mrs. Trenwith and Mr. Darcy.
“I gather you find Mr. Darcy unpleasant.”
Lizzy cleared her throat. Had her opinion of Mr. Darcy been that obviously writ upon her face? “I did not say he was or wasn’t,” she protested.
“Ah, but you did, by what you did not say. You could have said that your family had the pleasure of being acquainted with both gentlemen, but you singled out Mr. Bingley alone. And if he was constantly with Mr. Darcy, you could not claim to be unacquainted with the latter.”
Lizzy looked down at her tea, half-pleased and half-dismayed to be in the company of a clever woman. Mrs. Trenwith overlooked little.
“You’ve no need to worry. Mr. Darcy rarely makes a good first impression,” Mrs. Trenwith said with a sympathetic smile before taking a sip of her tea.
Eager to be off the subject of Mr. Darcy, Lizzy asked, “Would you mind a few questions of mine own?”
“Not at all. It is only fair. Ask away.”
“Have you resided in Hunsford long?”
“For several years, yes. My husband had lived in Hunsford as a boy and had always admired this house. That is his portrait on that wall.”
Lizzy studied the painting of a man in his fifties with gentle features, though not as striking as his wife.
“Mr. Trenwith passed away two years ago.”
“I am sorry to hear it. He could not have been very old.”
“He was twelve years my senior and had contracted malaria some years ago on a trip to the Malay Kingdoms. He had accounts with the British East India Company and travelled often for his business. I accompanied him once when he took a tour of India and China.”
Lizzy could not help but gape. “I spoke of Hunsford as ‘foreign,’ but my use of the word is overstated. India and China? I can scarce imagine such an experience.”
“The traveling was very difficult and rough. Though Mr. Trenwith made the journey a number of times, once was sufficient for me. But the sights were, without a doubt, incredible.”