Chapter Seven
His barouche was spacious and comfortable, but Darcy did not enjoy a moment of his journey. He had begrudgingly agreed to accompany his cousin, Lady Rebecca, and their friend Bingley… after the pair had spent a fortnight badgering him into accepting the invitation to Richmond Cove.
It had been Richard’s argument that swayed him.
His cousin urged him to forget about Elizabeth Bennet, to forget her harsh words and the sting of unexpected rejection.
He was Darcy of Pemberley, a paragon of desirable virtues.
He ought to take a wife, and any rational creature would be happy to have him.
Good society was full of grasping social climbers like Miss Bingley, whose insistence that she accompany her brother and subsequent tantrum had delayed their departure from London, but the annual Goulding fête was acclaimed for the splendid matches made there every year.
The great ladies knew what they were about.
Surely Darcy would meet a woman perfectly suited to him – a young woman every bit as bright and beautiful as Elizabeth Bennet, the only woman in the world who could be brash enough to deny his worthiness.
Darcy had allowed Richard’s appeal to his vanity to convince him, though he told himself that his secondary reason for attending the house party was to keep his cousin Lady Rebecca out of mischief.
She was a daring creature, bold in her inexhaustible opinions, and as fond of pranks and japes as her brother.
She left chaos in her wake, and one day it would inevitably catch up to her – possibly to the detriment of all the family.
Richard claimed the same intention in spontaneously joining them.
And after all, it would not do to throw off the numbers by adding a lady to the party, since Mr. Bingley could not convince his sister to remain in London.
Richard declared his presence must balance the sexes well enough to please their hostesses, who had been trying for years to lure his elder brother to Richmond Cove.
It was not long after they left London that Darcy began to doubt the wisdom of the whole damned scheme.
Matchmaking parties were an absurd and undignified notion; inviting a notorious trouble-maker like Rebecca and a man as prone to falling in love with a pretty face as Bingley was either wildly irresponsible or just plain devious.
Add to this the fact that Darcy was to once again be staying under the same roof as Caroline Bingley, and he began to hope that one of his cousins might really manage to burn the place down.
“Do not look so miserable, Darcy!” Richard clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “The sun is out, at last, and we are nearly there.”
“Oh, let him sulk, for now, if he chooses,” Bingley chided. “He shall be entirely too smug when he realizes that all the ladies prefer him over his companions!”
“You are just as rich and far more sociable; you are in no position to complain,” Richard drawled.
Darcy hushed them both. As if exhausted by her own selfish tantrum, Miss Bingley had fallen asleep two pages into the book she had made a great show of bringing along for the journey. Darcy had no wish to wake her.
Lady Rebecca shook her head at them, a slow, evil grin spreading across her face. “You have come of your own free will, Darcy – it was very kind of you to spare me the inconvenience of abducting you – but I know you must really be looking forward to the party at least a little.”
Bingley gave her a playful nudge. “After all, what does Darcy live for, if not parties?”
Richard smiled as the expansive manor house came into view through the carriage windows. “It is a fair prospect, indeed. And no doubt you are aware of the reputation these parties have.”
Darcy rolled his eyes. “Shameful microcosms of the London marriage market.”
“A relief to those of us unlucky in love,” Bingley muttered. Rebecca fairly snorted as she shoved him.
“Yes, that, of course… but I was referring to something else entirely.” Richard waggled his eyebrows and rubbed his hands together.
“They say that the Goulding ladies have a vast network of informants, the greatest gossips in the kingdom – and they use what they glean from these sources to make sure their parties are entertaining for themselves, as well as productive.”
Darcy narrowed his eyes at his cousin, who seemed to be suggesting something more sinister than a few bored old widows making merry by filling their house with young people. “What do you mean?”
“They like to invite persons who have some previous connection with one another – something unpleasant. Bingley, you are likely to meet with any one of a dozen angels whose hearts you have broken over the years.”
“Some of them broke my heart, you know!”
“And you, Darcy – are there any such ladies in your recent history?” Richard smiled broadly at him, stroking his chin as if he could not quite remember a certain disaster just weeks ago.
Darcy turned sharply to his cousin Rebecca, who radiated absolute innocence, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her.
He looked back at Richard, and then to Rebecca again, not sure which of them he wished to throttle first. Generally, he was opposed to violence against women, but Rebecca was more demon than anything else, and could do with a good thrashing. “You tricked me, both of you.”
Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Always so grim, Darcy. We did not trick you – we withheld commonly known information – and all for the sake of helping you. Did you not express many hours of lamentation to me when we left Kent? Did you not wish it had all happened differently? I think it very likely you shall be given a second chance.”
Darcy’s chest filled with cold, bitter mortification. He grimaced at Rebecca. “I suppose he has told you everything?”
She smiled beatifically at him. “I do hope I shall meet her; she sounds magnificent.”
Bingley squirmed with excitement. “Meet who? Of whom are you speaking? Why have you not told me? What has Darcy done?”
“Bingley, you shall give yourself a seizure. Anyhow, I shall tell you everything….” Rebecca glanced over at the sleeping Miss Bingley. “Later.”
Darcy sputtered with indignation. “Am I to have no say in the matter?”
“None at all, Darcy. This may shock and amaze you, but generally women do not like being told what to do. If I wish to delight your friend with my exceptional storytelling abilities, then I will do just that.”
“You were not even there,” Richard huffed. “If anybody is going to tell Bingley what happened, it ought to be me. I am far less biased.”
“Yes, I am sure you shall be especially impartial when you describe how you made matters far worse with your big mouth,” Darcy grumbled.
Richard scowled. “I am dreadfully sorry about that, truly, cousin. But if my suspicions are proven right, I shall have some chance to make amends.”
“You have done quite enough, thank you. Let us hope that, as usual, you are entirely wrong.” Darcy turned away from his companions and stared resolutely out the window. He kept his countenance neutral, but internally, he was in shambles.
The worst of it was, he had heard the talk of these parties, and it had never occurred to him that he might be ambushed in such a way.
Thinking so well of himself, Darcy supposed his presence alone would gratify the Goulding ladies, that they would neither need nor dare to make sport of him.
He had feared nothing worse than the usual fortune hunters and insipid heiresses; he had been completely blind to what now felt like the most obvious possibility.
If the Gouldings had heard that he admired Elizabeth in Kent, even in Hertfordshire…
good God, and there was a branch of the Goulding family in Meryton… .
But beneath this sudden dread, Darcy soon found hope.
He was not averse to seeing her again. He only feared meeting with more of her vitriolic dislike of him.
He wondered if his letter had made any impression on her opinion of him – if she had even read it.
Might he dare to hope, as his cousins did, that fate would grant him a second chance?
Seated across from him, Bingley suddenly cried out, waking his sister. “Hey-ho! What if I meet with Jane Bennet at Richmond Cove?”
“You have worked that out? Amazing,” Rebecca said flatly.
“Two for the price of one,” Richard muttered.
Miss Bingley groaned, and lifted the book from her lap, examining the same page she had pretended to read when they left London, hours ago. Darcy wished to do the same, for he could not feel any optimism at the prospect of seeing Elizabeth, when Caroline Bingley was present.
***
Elizabeth peered out the window of the shared parlor where she and Jane were dressing for the evening’s festivities.
A barouche was coming up the drive; their party would soon be complete, for better or worse.
She had spent the first three days of the house party assiduously hoping that Mr. Darcy was not to be amongst them.
Today, after all the hints Lady Blanche could not resist playfully dropping, Elizabeth merely wanted the worst to be gotten over and done with.
Jane came to stand beside her. “You have been quiet today, Lizzy.”
It did not feel that way to Elizabeth – her mind had not been silent for a moment.
When she was not distracting herself by coaxing Anne and Colonel Brandon into conversation, Elizabeth had been alternately bemused and irritated at the evident pleasure their hostesses took in arranging their parties for maximum upheaval.
She had been angry with herself for dwelling on her dealings with Mr. Darcy and fixating on the prospect of seeing him again, she had been desperately trying to imagine the possibility of the last group of arrivals containing only pleasant strangers, perhaps even a gentleman she could like, and she had been determined to conceal the watchful eye she kept on Jane and Captain Wentworth.
“You have not,” she said with a sly smile. “I daresay you have not a care for who is in that carriage, for all your attention today has been for a certain captain.”
“We had a most enlightening conversation yesterday, and I feel as if I have come to know Captain Wentworth better already.” Jane’s smile ebbed away. “Lizzy, I ought to tell you something – I do not know why I did not say so yesterday, but….”
Before Jane could impart whatever secret she concealed, Aunt Madeline bustled in, already dressed for the private ball to be held at Richmond Cove that evening. She clucked her tongue and shook her head at them. “Girls, you are nowhere near ready!”
“Jane has been writing in her diary for nearly an hour,” Elizabeth said, flashing her sister a teasing look.
“You ought to try it some time, Lizzy. Not all of one’s opinions need to be spoken aloud.”
“I could never deprive the world of my tremendously witty observations,” Elizabeth said as her aunt fairly shoved her down onto a stool.
“Where is your maid? Must I do your hair myself?” Their aunt's question was soon answered when the maid returned with the tea her charges had requested, and the two women began a frenzy of preparation.
The result, an hour later, was that Elizabeth and Jane both looked better than they ever had.
They each wore a new silk gown purchased in London, in a color that favored their different complexions.
Jane wore a jonquil gown that complimented her milky skin and flaxen curls, while Elizabeth’s rosy hues were accentuated by a lilac gown with pale pink and lavender sarsenet that shimmered in the light.
They stood side by side before a large mirror in one corner of the room, taking in the sight of themselves with wonder as Aunt Madeline and the maid fluttered around them, putting the finishing touches on their elegantly arranged, gem-studded hair.
Jane’s pins were adorned with yellow topaz, Elizabeth’s with amethyst. They each wore new dancing slippers with golden shoe roses to adorn them.
From head to toe, they surpassed any fine looks they had ever managed for the assemblies in Meryton.
Elizabeth smiled brightly as she drank in her own reflection.
She was not prone to personal vanity – it had always been quite impossible, growing up with her sister, the great beauty of the family – the great beauty of the county, as their mother had said for so long that the whole of Meryton began to agree.
Jane was as resplendent as ever, but she wore her stylish and elegant new fashions with a natural grace that felt foreign to Elizabeth.
It had occurred to her that Mr. Darcy must have found her pretty, if he could not overcome all his objections to her.
Since refusing him, she had considered that his tendency to stare at her might have meant he thought her more than just pretty, despite his remarks at the opening of their acquaintance, which were more aligned with her own views of herself.
But tonight, Elizabeth glowed, and she knew it.
She had quite depended upon it, especially if Lady Blanche’s sly innuendos were building up to some significant revelation.
Whatever the night held in store for her, she wished to face it with confidence, if only so that she might feel as though she belonged at such a magnificent place, among so many fine people.
“We shall rival even the high and mighty Lady Julia, and her faithful assistant, Miss Elliot.”
Jane gave a soft laugh at Elizabeth’s quip, but her eyes crinkled at the corners when she looked over at her sister, as if she saw through her. “We have just as much right to be here as they do, Lizzy.”
“I should say so,” Aunt Madeline agreed, giving her nieces' gowns a few final adjustments before stepping back to admire them. “Miss Elliot is nearly thirty! And I have heard that her family’s fortunes have fallen. As for Lady Julia Bixler, she may have a title and a dowry to keep her nose always in the air, but beneath all her assets and accomplishments, I have discerned little personality. You girls have good character in spades, and just look at you!”
Jane took Elizabeth’s hand. “Are you ready, sister, to go and enjoy our good fortune?”
Elizabeth felt a premonition that she would need to be ready for a great deal, but she found that she actually was.