Chapter Fifteen #2
Her eyes darted to the distant tent where Miss de Bourgh sat scowling at her mother’s side.
And then Elizabeth grinned at Mr. Darcy and stood up on her toes, resting her left hand in the center of his chest as her right hand reached up and smoothed out a tuft of dark hair that had escaped his short curls.
She smoothed it out behind his ear and slowly ran her hand down his cheek.
Not to be outdone, Mr. Darcy covered her hand with his own and quickly kissed her palm. She could feel his lips through the thin lace of her gloves, which she had put back on in the carriage.
“There now, you must allow me my intermission before we continue our performance.” Elizabeth winced at her own unintentional bitterness, and she scrambled for something else to say to soften her tone of rebuke. “Is that Sir Sidney walking with Miss Denham? Your cousin must be seething.”
She had meant Miss de Bourgh, who, slighted by both her suitors, stormed away from her mother, leading Miss Lovelace by the hand to the water’s edge.
Mr. Darcy, however, searched the little crowd for the colonel, who was still speaking with Georgiana and Mr. Knightley.
Mrs. Knightley was stalking toward the ladies’ tent with a curious expression. “I shall go and speak with Richard.”
“Do inform Mrs. Jennings if the colonel decides to search elsewhere for an heiress.” Elizabeth gave him a teasing wink before walking away to rejoin the tent of ladies.
She was strangely discomfited; never before had she been so unaware of herself when speaking with Mr. Darcy, and so conscious of what he must be thinking.
Mrs. Jennings and Lady Denham found an easy audience for their matrimonial speculation; Mrs. Knightley was instantly engrossed.
“The niece and nephew that I had with me last summer rather disappointed my aspirations, but I have grasping relations enough that eventually one of them may do me proud, though I have yet to witness either of them behaving sensibly yet,” Lady Denham observed.
“My niece Esther is there in the blue gown, walking with—ugh! Sir Sidney Parker! If you have not yet been warned about that wastrel, allow me to tell you now that he ought not be allowed anywhere near your dear Miss Dashwood, Mrs. Jennings. And though you are lately married, Mrs. Knightley, you must be on your guard, as well—the fellow is entirely without scruples! Forgive me, Lady Parker, but you have married the only member of that family with any merit!”
“Certainly Lady Parker is a member of that family with merit.” Elizabeth smiled defiantly at the dowager, who responded by brandishing her fan in a teasing gesture.
The two women had reached a peculiar understanding almost immediately, for they were too similar to be easy friends, but they were as fond of quarreling with one another as in uniting to relish the folly of all their acquaintance.
“There may even be hope for the children, if their aunts and uncles could be hauled off to Bedlam where they belong,” Lady Parker drawled.
“Oh dear,” Mrs. Jennings tutted. “What a pity Sir Sidney should be such a waste of a fine figure! He is a credit to his tailor, I will say that much in his favor. He seems to be another Willoughby, my dear Marianne. We shall have to find you some other beau—I hear there is a colonel in our midst.”
“No, thank you.” Marianne flattened her lips and stared contrarily at Mrs. Jennings. “I was promised sea-bathing and sunny promenades in the latest seaside fashions. I shall keep to the company of so many fine ladies.”
“Brava, Miss Dashwood!” Mrs. Bevan gave a little applause before returning to writing in a small leatherbound journal. “You shall make a fine heroine, for such reluctance to be made love to will make the pursuit of the vicar all the more exciting.”
“Oh, anything but a vicar,” cried Mrs. Knightley. “Vicars are sycophantic creatures; when it comes to getting wives, I find they are far too covetous of what they do not deserve!”
Charlotte nearly choked on the bite of sweetmeats she was chewing, and Elizabeth winced. She was inclined to agree with Mrs. Knightley, though the memory of her cousin Collins’ ill-fated rejection sent a shiver of sadness through her.
“Well!” Mrs. Jenning harrumphed. “It seems to me there are enough unsuitable young people—are there no eligible young ladies or gentlemen? If Marianne will not indulge me, surely my abilities must be wanted by some lovesick swain or swooning miss.”
Mrs. Knightley sat up a little straighter and smiled brightly.
“Oh, I am fond of making matches, as well! I did so about a year ago for my former governess, whom I adore. She is well settled half a mile from Hartfield, my former home, with the charming widower Mr. Weston. I tried to make another match, for my dear friend Harriet—Mrs. Martin, now—hence my disdain of vicars. But I suppose that failure does not count, for I daresay she was already unconsciously attached to her Mr. Martin. She refused his first proposal, though he did write her a very fine letter, but he proposed again after she realized what a coxcomb the vicar she admired was. You ought to write that down in your novel notes, Mrs. Bevan!”
The authoress was frequently discovered transcribing what was passing in her diary, and the merry folk of Sanditon were delighted at the prospect of figuring into her future publications.
“I should be happy to fictionalize any matchmaking exploits you care to share, Mrs. Knightley. I never tire of intrigue.”
Mrs. Knightley grinned. “Oh, I can unmake matches, too, so you must brace yourself for any number of shocking things this summer. Why, just a few months ago, I convinced a friend—I call her friend now, but for many years I quite despised her—I am endeavoring not to envy those with greater accomplishments than my own, else I should never like anybody. At any rate, my friend Miss Fairfax was secretly engaged to a gentleman who was welcomed amongst everybody in Highbury. He made merry with us all while paying me special attention at every turn, and all the while he was secretly engaged to her, and the poor creature was made to endure it! She must have despised me, too, for he wished to please his aunt by paying court to a girl of fortune, rather than the penniless woman he loved!”
Even Jane was listening with rapt attention. “Did you make amends with her?”
“To please my husband, and my own good conscience, I certainly did. And I persuaded her to think of herself, after such ill-usage. Her beau’s wicked mercenary aunt died, and their engagement might have been made public, had I not saved her from that preening flirt.
I told her that fortune appeared to be smiling on her, and she ought to press her advantage.
She purchased a lottery ticket, and she won a tremendous sum!
It allowed her the independence to decide she had no wish for such a wayward husband. ”
Mrs. Knightley triumphantly received their awe and applause. Lady Denham appeared especially interested. “Your friend is now a wealthy woman? I suppose she may wish to treat herself and her guardians to a sea-side holiday.”
Elizabeth made a droll face at the thought of the dowager foisting her nephew on the lady in question. “Having seen the sense of rejecting one accomplished flirt, she may cleverly spot another directly, Lady Denham.”
The matchmaking banter carried on for some time; Lady Denham, Mrs. Jennings, and Mrs. Knightley had unified into a formidable trio.
Elizabeth was spared from her share of the speculation that delighted her companions, and she allowed her mind to wander.
Though she did not transcribe her observations as Mrs. Bevan did, she nonetheless enjoyed watching the scene unfolding around her on the beach.
Miss de Bourgh and her companion, and Sir Sidney and a few of his friends had waded into the tide, frolicking and splashing one another with such glee that for a moment Elizabeth managed to forget that her rival was such a nasty creature. At present she seemed an ordinary, even cheerful girl.
Sir Edward Gardiner was sitting with the Parkers in the next tent over, apparently supervising his children in building a sandcastle that rather resembled the Tremont. The Parker spinsters were fussing over him and practically feeding him, but he did not appear in want of Elizabeth’s rescue.
Further down the beach, the colonel and Georgiana had also waded into the shallow water with Mr. Marsh, who was hunched over and pointing to something in the tide pool—a scientific discovery that seemed to delight them all.
Elizabeth let out a sigh of contentment as a cool breeze caressed her face.
The summer was only just beginning, and at present she had every reason to look forward to a joyous season in the coastal paradise she had come to call home.
Her happiness was disrupted only when the matchmaking ladies turned their attention once more toward Marianne.
Jane and Charlotte had ambled off to join their husbands, and it was left to Elizabeth to defend her stepsister.
“Come now, it has not been six months since her heart was broken; is she not allowed some mourning period?”
“He is such a handsome man; I will own it is a dreadful shame,” Mrs. Jennings admitted.
“Not only that—I understand they saw a great deal of one another and came to share a very deep bond over poetry and music, and such things as are important to Marianne. Everyone who knew them expected a happier conclusion.” Elizabeth glanced over at Marianne, painfully aware that she must have betrayed her anguish at finding herself in such a similar predicament.
“I once said I would never marry, and it is the best thing I ever did,” Mrs. Knightley argued.