Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The theatre in Ramsgate was as full as it could be that night. The irresistible public spectacle of seeing three prominent parties attempt to occupy adjoining boxes without bloodshed was nearly as entertaining as the play, which was The Lady of the Lake: A Melodramatic Romance in Three Acts.
Lady Barry had kept a box since moving to Ramsgate, and going to the theatre was one of her few enjoyments, even if she always went alone. Her servant ensured that her box was never disturbed by visitors.
The Darcys had secured the box on the left of hers, and Mr Bingley hired the box on the right for the duration of the summer.
By prior arrangement, the wall panels between all three boxes had been removed, producing a rather sprawling arrangement of velvet-covered chairs, opera glasses, ladies’ reticules, and altogether too many opinions.
Upon Lady Barry’s arrival, Lady Catherine appeared as if she had been personally betrayed by her appearance.
“You are here.” Lady Catherine deflated in disappointment.
“Yet again, dear Cathy.” Lady Barry searched her reticule for her opera glasses.
Lady Catherine glared at her. “This is intolerable.”
Lady Barry settled into her chair with satisfaction. “Then we begin auspiciously.”
The company arranged itself with varying degrees of strategic intent.
Georgiana was seated happily beside Kitty and Mary, all three equipped with opera glasses and a shared appetite for judging fashion and finery.
Lydia and Mrs Hurst were immediately but separately engrossed in evaluating every hair piece in the pit.
Mary had procured the libretto and was perusing Act I.
Mr Bennet, beside Charlotte, was resolved to be entertained regardless of artistic merit of the production, and insisted that while the theatre was not a favourite activity of his, he would keep an open mind.
The first act began, and finally the parties in the box hushed…that was…mostly.
Bingley had installed himself beside Jane with the determined concern of a man awaiting the result of his wife’s first labour in childbed.
“Are you certain that you are comfortable, Miss Bennet?” Mr Bingley whispered loudly.
“Yes, thank you, Mr Bingley.” Jane smiled serenely.
“And your wrist is properly supported?” he persisted.
“It has not left my body, Mr. Bingley. I will not allow it to escape,” Jane promised.
“Pray, do not lean too suddenly,” the gentleman worried.
Jane turned her head towards him very slowly. “I am observing a play, Mr Bingley. Not boarding a rowboat.”
Elizabeth heard this and bit her lip, glancing at Darcy in shared amusement. She hoped that Mr Bingley would not plague Jane all night as he had at Darcy Cottage.
Bingley looked wounded. “I only mean to be attentive, Miss Bennet.”
Jane softened slightly. “I know, Mr Bingley. Thank you for your kindness.”
Five minutes later, Mr Bingley’s anxieties resumed. “Do you require your shawl adjusted?”
Jane closed her eyes briefly. “Mr Bingley, it is July. I am not wearing a shawl.”
Caroline Bingley, meanwhile, had devoted herself to the continued warfare she began at dinner the night before. She had somehow arranged to remain within conversational distance of Elizabeth, though Darcy had gone to some trouble to avoid such an outcome.
“How charming this provincial theatre is,” Miss Bingley remarked.
Elizabeth smiled pleasantly at Darcy, attempting to ignore her.
“Though I suppose one cannot expect the refinement of London’s entertainments,” Miss Bingley persisted.
Elizabeth, sincerely wishing to enjoy the performance, one that she had never had the pleasure of seeing before, attempted to silence her with a remark.
“I have always thought entertainment benefits from moderate expectations. Perhaps you should lower yours, Miss Bingley.”
Not to be discouraged, Miss Bingley continued. “I imagine one grows accustomed to less elaborate productions.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “One must learn to enjoy what is available, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley, thinking that she had just won a point, smiled without pleasantry. “Just so, Miss Eliza.”
“I wonder if one can adapt to so many irritating interruptions,” Elizabeth remarked to Darcy.
Lady Barry spoke up from three seats away. “Miss Bingley, if one is not suited to the arts, one ought to remain at home.”
Finally, the snide young lady was silenced. The party was at last able to cease their glares at the Bingley siblings and enjoy the scene.
When the first act was over, Darcy spoke to his servants and refreshments were served.
Mr and Mrs Bennet spoke pleasantly with Darcy Senior, while Georgiana conversed animatedly with the three youngest Bennet siblings.
Mr Hurst, who had slept through the first act, woke the moment that claret appeared, while his wife played with her bracelets and continued her perusal of the fashions worn by ladies in other boxes.
Miss Bingley hissed in her sister’s ear the entire intermission.
Lady Catherine, having noticed Darcy’s success in gaining a moment to speak with Elizabeth alone, interrupted them immediately.
“Nephew, you have neglected to explain whether you have yet resolved the Rosings accounts.”
Darcy stared. “You wish to discuss this at the theatre, aunt?”
“There is never an improper time for estate management, nephew. You must always be working if you are to run a successful estate.”
Lady Barry interrupted. “That is perhaps the saddest opinion I have ever heard expressed publicly. What a dry life you must lead now, Cathy. All work and no play would make Darcy-boy even more serious than his father.”
Lady Catherine stiffened. “I speak of important matters.”
“You always do. Such a high opinion of your own concerns. It is your least charming quality. You were never this diligent as a girl. With as much effort in your lessons, you might have learned the instrument with distinction.”
The second act began. During the first scene, Miss Bingley resumed hostilities.
She commented loudly enough to be heard. “I confess, I do not understand the enthusiasm for this production. It gained far more attention than it deserved last year in town.”
“If I knew of your distaste for it, Miss Bingley, I should never have troubled you with an invitation.” Darcy was irritable from the constant interruptions.
Miss Bingley looked as though she had been slapped with a glove.
Elizabeth turned to him. “Was that polite, Mr Darcy?”
He looked entirely composed. “Only honest, Miss Elizabeth.”
This was tolerably effective. At last, the boxes hushed. Even Lady Catherine was briefly subdued by the stage.
Elizabeth leaned slightly over the railing to see better.
As she did, the little reticule she held slipped from her hands and would have fallen into the box below had Darcy not snatched it up neatly with startling speed.
Their hands met, just briefly. Instead of returning the reticule immediately, Darcy paused.
Their hands brushed as he finally returned the article to her possession.
Not quite improper. But intense enough that Elizabeth blushed immediately.
She glanced at him a moment later. He was staring at her, not the play. The intensity in his expression had tempered into something so openly intimate that the rest of the crowded theatre vanished instantly.
“Have I told you how grateful I am that you came tonight?” he whispered quietly
“No,” she answered softly. “You have not.”
“Then I have been negligent.” He continued his study of her features, her eyes, her smile. “I have found the entire evening improved by your company. I do not know how I ever enjoyed the theatre without it.”
There was something about the sincerity of his words…without production, without embellishment…that moved her more than any dramatic declaration could have.
Elizabeth blushed again. “That is fortunate, bearing in mind how little control we have over the rest of our party.”
“On the contrary. Your company renders them almost tolerable.” He grinned.
She giggled. For a brief, precious moment, they forgot the others and their annoyances.
Which was, of course, precisely when Lady Catherine interrupted. “Nephew.”
Darcy closed his eyes and sighed.
“Anne is cold,” his aunt said in an accusatory tone.
Anne de Bourgh, who looked perfectly temperate, blinked in surprise. “Am I?”
“Then cover her, Cathy. She is your daughter, not Darcy’s ward,” Lady Barry said in irritation. “And then for heaven’s sake, be quiet.”
A suppressed snort escaped Mr Bennet.
Lady Catherine looked ready to expire from rage.
When the second act closed, the servants entered swiftly with more refreshments. Mr Hurst did not wake this time. Elizabeth wondered if he would notice if the play ended and they left him there. She wondered if his wife would notice he was missing.
Georgiana, Kitty, and Lydia animatedly discussed the costumes.
When the third act began, Bingley warned Jane not to damage her wrist while applauding.
“Please do not clap so enthusiastically, Miss Bennet. I do worry that you will injure yourself again.”
Jane stared at him. “I cannot possibly be applauding so vigorously."
“Accidents do happen, Miss Bennet,” he insisted. “You cannot imagine how devastated I would be if you were hurt again.”
Elizabeth barely attempted not to laugh openly at the gentleman’s irritating earnestness. Jane looked about helplessly. Elizabeth shook her head, unable to save her sister.
Lady Barry thumped her cane in satisfaction. “The performance of Darcy’s friend is vastly superior to the play.”
“You are insufferable.” Lady Catherine hissed.
“I live in Ramsgate, Cathy. You are the one who has entered my neighbourhood,” answered Lady Barry pointedly. “In fact, you are currently occupying my box. You can always go and sit over there, by yourself, at your brother’s end. I think we would all enjoy ourselves much better.”
She looked at Elizabeth and Darcy with unmistakable gratification. “Unlike some people, I know a promising entertainment when I see one.”
Elizabeth blushed scarlet.
Darcy seemed pleased. “Am I still improving, Lady Barry?”
“By leaps and bounds, dear boy,” Lady Barry assured him.
“We shall never need to visit the theatre again, as long as these people remain acquainted and in each other’s company. Their behaviour is more entertaining than the show.” Mr Bennet murmured to Charlotte from behind them.
Charlotte swatted him lightly with her fan.