Chapter Three
Elizabeth and Jane were escorted into the parlor by their aunt and uncle; the rest of the party was already within.
Lady Sophia took up the office of introductions, presenting Viscount Bixler and his sister, Lady Julia Bixler, a pair who bore a far stronger resemblance than any of the Bennet sisters.
The viscount, whom they were informed was heir to his grandfather, the Earl of Waltham, was imposing in his manners if not appearance.
He was short and thin, but he fairly dripped with hauteur as he inquired after their relations and their father’s estate, all but asking outright if they had any fortune or connections worthy of his notice.
Elizabeth swiftly decided he need not trouble himself, for her assessment was already made.
He was not handsome, but well dressed, favoring hues of deep burgundy that complimented his short-cropped reddish-brown hair.
His attire and demeanor spoke of wealth and over-indulgent vanity, and his sister was much the same.
Lady Julia had the same ruddy brown hair and pink complexion, the same sneer, and the same expensive taste in evening wear.
For an unmarried lady, she had chosen a daring shade of crimson for her over-trimmed silk frock.
Elizabeth contemplated what praise Miss Bingley might summon as she complimented the young lady’s hair, which was arranged in a Grecian style with a burgundy ribbon wound through it, and a few small, precise ringlets framing either side of her round face.
The pair of siblings seemed so very well pleased with themselves that Elizabeth decided she need not bother liking them and she was certainly not inclined to do so, unless they should at least prove amusing in their snobbery.
The colonel that Lady Rosamund mentioned was indeed a new acquaintance, to Elizabeth’s relief.
Colonel Brandon promised to be a more agreeable companion than either of the Bixlers, though only for his softer style of reticence.
He was older, with more gray in his hair than Captain Benwick, and well-dressed in an understated sort of way, his manners perfectly genteel.
Though he said little, there was something welcoming in his air, which was sorely lacking in the Bixlers’ attitudes.
Lady Sophia informed them that the rest of the party was expected on Monday, and Elizabeth looked over at Jane to ascertain whether she was disappointed not to discover Mr. Bingley amongst their party.
But she was already looking at Captain Wentworth; at his side, Miss Smith sweetly beckoned for Jane to join her and the two captains.
Elizabeth bore her sister’s abandonment very cheerfully, though she knew not what to do with herself.
She was not quite bold enough to make sport of the Bixlers on the very first night, and in the presence of her aunt and uncle.
The colonel did not appear unwelcoming, but neither did she sense any sense of encouragement about him as their companions all broke into smaller groups of conversation.
She was nearly resolved to take the coward’s path and sit with Aunt Madeline and Mrs. Croft, when the butler entered, looking exceedingly nonplussed as he announced an unexpected arrival. “Sir Walter Elliot and his daughters.”
Lady Dorothea scowled as she rose from her chaise. “But they were not meant to arrive for another two days! It will put the table and our numbers completely out.”
Lady Sophia stood with unflappable nonchalance. “Yes, but here they are, my dear. Show them in, Hobson.”
The butler did as he was bid, opening the door to admit a silver-haired gentleman who was far too old to be dressed like such a dandy.
On his arm was an elegant young woman with golden blonde hair and a sneer to match Lady Julia’s – she was introduced to them as Miss Elizabeth Elliot.
Behind the ostentatious pair, a demure brunette dressed with more tasteful elegance trailed after them – Miss Anne Elliot.
Lady Dorothea sent Hobson off with orders to accommodate three extra places in the dining room, and then she coolly welcomed the party from Kellynch Hall in Somersetshire.
Sir Walter made a sweeping bow. “A thousand apologies, Lady Dorothea, for our premature arrival. We have been on the road all day; my driver thought it prudent to attempt to outrun the squall that followed us east from Kellynch. We have only stopped to change horses, for I was sure that if we put up at some wretched inn, we should only become trapped there as the weather grows worse.”
“It was utterly harrowing,” Miss Elliot agreed with affected ennui.
Lady Rosamund moved to stand beside her sister-in-law, who was still bristling with indignation. “How dreadful to be travelling all day – I should be in quite a state! Do you wish to dress for dinner?”
“I would not dream of inconveniencing your household any further than necessary; we shall go up after dinner.” Sir Walter offered his hostesses a bright smile, his eyes drifting to a mirror across the room as he adjusted his cravat.
It occurred to Elizabeth that she might have looked the worse for wear after travelling all day in a storm, but the Elliots all looked immaculate.
The baronet and his eldest daughter smiled defiantly through their obvious lie; they must have stopped at the nearest village to refresh themselves and put on their fine jewels, but only the younger daughter appeared at all mortified by such deceit.
In truth, Miss Anne Elliot looked exceedingly uncomfortable as she took in the rest of the party, who had yet to be introduced to the newcomers.
Elizabeth had spent enough years at Longbourn with her mother and younger sisters prone to flights of hysterics that she knew every telltale sign of impending anxiety. She put herself forward at once.
“Miss Anne Elliot, I believe we must be acquainted already. Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn – surely you remember me.” She extended a hand to the young lady as if they were already intimate friends.
“You look so terribly familiar. Did we meet in London when I was visiting my aunt and uncle? Or when I was lately in Kent, perhaps?”
Miss Anne stammered and shook her head, her fingers clenching around the folds of her gown. “I… I do not think… I can hardly recall….”
Elizabeth linked her arm through the older girl’s and drew her aside as Sir Walter and Miss Elliot were swiftly drawn to the Bixlers.
She kept her voice even and merry, hoping to distract from Miss Anne’s evident distress.
“We shall have to sort it out. But you may come up and refresh yourself in my room, if your own is not yet ready.”
Lady Blanche raised a brow, clearly seeing through Elizabeth’s gambit, but she betrayed only a twinkle of intrigue in her gaze. “What a fine idea, Miss Elizabeth!”
Over her shoulder, Miss Elliot grimaced at them as if somebody had told her she shared a first name with a rodent in a bonnet. Her gaze flicked to her sister and she rolled her eyes as she hissed, “Anne, do stop being such a ninny!”
The young woman’s mortification deepened, and she latched on to Elizabeth’s arm as if she might swoon. “You are too kind, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Well, come along, my old friend. When you see my beautiful suite, you shall never want to leave it!”
Elizabeth led her companion into the corridor, and their steps slowed to a stop when they reached the round, painted chamber.
Rain patterned against the windows that looked out in the courtyard, so perhaps Sir Walter’s story was not a complete fabrication.
Even so, Elizabeth suspected there was something contrived in it, and she was just the person to be of comfort to a lady whose relations had embarrassed her.
“We need not go all the way up to my room on the second floor, Miss Anne, unless you wish it – but there is a charming little sitting area just at the top of the stairs. I think it would not do to be caught loitering out here if one of your relations comes after you.”
“They will not.” Miss Anne sniffled as a few tears slid down her cheeks. She fidgeted with her hands as if willing herself not to touch her face, and finally she gestured for Elizabeth to show her upstairs.
The richly upholstered chairs on the first floor were just as comfortable as Elizabeth anticipated they might be, and the two women sat down on either side of a little table that had a chessboard on it, a game seemingly abandoned early on.
Miss Anne ran her fingers idly over one of the knights. “Do you play, Miss Elizabeth?”
“A little, and very poorly. I might give the same answer to inquiries about half a dozen other accomplishments, but my impatience at strategizing is my poor father’s greatest shame.”
Elizabeth’s jest fell flat as her companion let out a low whimper and pressed her eyes shut for a long moment.
Finally she looked back at Elizabeth with a sad smile.
“I could teach you, if you like. I have many failings, too, but I believe I may claim patience amongst my virtues. But you have done me a great service, Miss Elizabeth; I do not know how to thank you.”
“I feared you might think me forward, claiming an acquaintance in such a familiar way! Well, they will all have forgotten about it in a day or two.”
“Yes, perhaps they will forget soon enough,” Miss Anne said with a wistful sigh.
“And you may call me Lizzy, if you like.”
“You may call me Anne; if we are not old friends, we may certainly be new ones.”
Elizabeth tried again to prompt Anne to confide in her. She still held neither hope nor intention where matters of romance were concerned, but she was glad at the chance to make a new friend. “I suppose you did not like to arrive before you were invited to do so?”
“Oh – that. Well, of course you saw through my father’s feeble artifice. I can tell you are clever. He means to stay a week at least, claiming the weather as an excuse to stay and….”