Chapter 30 #2
“I hope so, Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth giggled. “I hear that you finally persuaded Sir Rupert to depart from Ramsgate.”
“It was not so very difficult.” Colonel Fitzwilliam shrugged.
“Once he and his sister found themselves as closely observed as you and my poor cousin Anne, and the only tourists who entertained them departed the area in disgrace, there was very little point in remaining. I set a handful of officers to follow the two of them everywhere quite obviously during their free time. It seems that the man and his sister did not like being followed any more than you or Anne did.”
Not far away, Viscount Fitzwilliam lounged next to Jane beneath the shade of a tree, plying her with grapes and all manner of delicacies.
The viscount conducted his courtship with confident determination.
He ought to have been a general. He needed no dramatics.
No fanfare. Only enduring diligence. He listened when his lady spoke; recalled every word she said.
And pursued her with such self-assured adoration and intent that even Lady Barry noticed and remarked upon it:
“That one means business.” She thumped her cane in interest.
Charlotte smiled, attempting not to be over-excited about the prospect. “I certainly pray that it is so.”
Jane was glowing in the warmth of his steady attention.
Lady Matlock, who had despaired of her son ever selecting a bride, was watching with great interest, thrilled by the prospect.
Jane might not be heavily dowered or well connected, but she was astonishingly beautiful, and Ashley Fitzwilliam was wealthy and important enough that an impossibly beautiful wife would be instantly accepted in society as a prize.
Lord Matlock smiled with the confidence of a father who knew it would happen eventually all along.
Anne de Bourgh and Mr Bingley were strolling sedately along the paths together. Anne was already stronger since arriving in Ramsgate.
She had not transformed rapidly into robustness, as Charlotte had done, for Charlotte had been robust all along.
Charlotte had merely needed to shed the attention of her overbearing mother and resume her usual activities.
Anne, having been a great deal longer confined, needed more time to gain her strength.
Bingley spent hours in Anne’s company each day, and considered every sign of Anne’s progress as a personal triumph. “Your strength lasts much longer today,” he observed happily.
Anne smiled at him. “Yes, it does indeed.”
“And you are not tired?” he asked, ever solicitous.
“Not at all, I assure you, Mr Bingley.”
“I am delighted. I cannot wait to solicit your hand at the next assembly you attend.” He smiled at the thought.
They lingered to sit upon a bench.
“I believe that London will agree with you.” His eyes glazed over as he imagined it. “You will be much sought after.”
“Rosings Park will be sought after,” Anne corrected him. “I prefer the regard of those who actually seek my company.”
From the other side of the garden, Lord Matlock exchanged a knowing look with Darcy Senior. Anne’s uncles silently acknowledged the inevitable.
Lord Matlock sighed. “A man from a family of trade. Her mother will expire from rage.”
“At least it seems like he sincerely admires her.” Darcy Senior shrugged.
“If she decides she is in love with him, we will have no choice but to let her have him.” Matlock pointed out. “She has waited so long to be happy, I will not be the one to gainsay her.”
“It is easy enough to protect her fortune,” Darcy Senior agreed. “He is not a fortune hunter, for he possesses enough to purchase his own estate. And he seems like a decent, sincere sort of man. My son would never associate with him if he was anything less.”
Mrs Hurst had barely been seen near the Bennet family since her younger sister was sent away.
She entertained more now that her brother was no longer wrapped up in Darcy’s concerns.
Accordingly, the Bennets had not been included in invitations among those Mrs Hurst befriended in the assembly rooms. Now, watching her brother seriously pursue a prize heiress with superior family connections, she had transformed herself into astonishing agreeability.
It was an extraordinary development. Mrs Hurst sat as near to Lady Matlock as possible, praising Anne’s improvements in strength and dancing; Georgiana’s accomplishments; Priscilla’s elegance; the superiority of Derbyshire; and declaring her desire to see the great estates and landscapes about Hunsford.
Mr Hurst–persuaded to drink less and stay awake for the sake of appearances–and willing to do so in the absence of his sister-in-law’s unpleasant conversation, showed interest only in the refreshments and silence.
He found the food and Lady Barry’s hospitality quite agreeable, and when he did speak, he declared it to be an excellent afternoon.
The local guests and neighbours wandered the gardens of Nethercourt House in perpetual excitement.
Not merely at the engagement of Lizzy-girl and Darcy-boy.
But at Lady Barry herself. She was entertaining and even openly conversing.
Accepting the company of others…a rare spectacle. It was nearly biblical in significance.
One elderly gentleman finally addressed her: “Lady Barry, I cannot recall the last occasion on which these gardens held so much company. It is a pleasure to see Nethercourt House alive and the green full of guests.”
Lady Barry looked around. At Lizzy-girl and Darcy-boy. At Lady Anne’s daughter, radiant with happiness. At Reggie’s boy, diligently courting a fine young woman. At the cheerful group of friends and family celebrating her favourite young people. And her expression softened despite herself.
“Neither can I,” she admitted. She then recovered rapidly. “And if any of you become sentimental about it, I shall have you all removed.”
Later, Darcy and Elizabeth found themselves briefly alone near the edge of the gardens overlooking the sea. The noise of the other guests buzzed warmly behind them.
Darcy looked at her in awe of her lively loveliness and the beauty of her fine eyes. “Are you happy?”
Elizabeth beamed up at him. “Ridiculously. Can you not tell?”
“I must admit it thrills me to hear you say it,” he confessed. “It was kind of Lady Barry to give an engagement party for us.”
She slipped her hand into his arm. “Lady Barry truly believes you are the only man in England who is worthy of me.”
Darcy considered this with a grin. “She is a remarkably perceptive lady.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Do not become insufferable. She will box your ears.”
“I will not complain, as long as you are obliged to put up with me,” he teased.
Elizabeth only smiled and leaned a little closer as they walked slowly back toward the party together. “I suppose there are worse fates than being plagued for life by a man with excellent taste in sweets.”
~The End~