Chapter Nine #2
Yet she had not allowed herself to dream of more.
It had always been made tacitly clear to Frederica that Mr. Isaac Lucas was not a viable prospect for matrimony.
He was only one year her elder, which in and of itself—while unusual in a milieu where husbands were generally five or more years older than their wives—did not disqualify the match.
The impediment arose due to his father’s relative youth and the limitations of the Lucas family fortune.
To be sure, Isaac Lucas’s inheritance would be a respectable one, and although Lucas Lodge was not one of the great estates of the realm, it was nonetheless a stately and elegant home.
However, the financial situation of the Lucas family would not permit a son to live very high, not even the eldest. Ergo, Isaac Lucas had not been expected to be in a position to support a wife in any degree of comfort until he was well into his thirties or forties—assuming his father lived a normal lifespan.
But this, his father had not done. Isaac Lucas had already come into his inheritance, which meant certain possibilities Frederica had long considered no more than useless fantasy suddenly appeared very real indeed.
As it happened, the information regarding the death of the elder Mr. Lucas had been deliberately kept from Frederica by her mother.
Caroline Allerdyce had never bothered to check the friendship between the Lucas boy and her elder daughter, certain that both families, and even the children’s own good sense, would lay to rest any notions of matrimony between them.
So ineligible a match did Caroline think it that she considered the death of the elder Mr. Lucas an irrelevancy—yet she had not felt entirely certain that Frederica would agree.
After all, her daughter had turned down the proposal of a baronet only a few months prior, which signified that the girl’s judgment in such matters remained impractical.
So Caroline kept one eye upon the conversation between her daughter and Mr. Lucas, but without any real sense of alarm.
Even if Isaac Lucas were impudent enough to strive to marry so far above his level, and even if Frederica were foolhardy enough to wish to wed so far below her own, Mr. Allerdyce would certainly forbid it.
Cheered by this expectation, Caroline devoted herself to speaking with her sisters, who had in childhood and early adulthood been her closest friends and companions. Once, she had enjoyed no pastime more than chatting and laughing with Louisa and Rachel.
Yet not all the frolics of youth remain equally enjoyable throughout life.
“It is disgraceful,” Mrs. Lofton whispered, “absolutely disgraceful that Louisa still has not put on mourning. Anyone would think her unmoved by the death of her husband. Not that it is any great wonder she would not miss him, given that he rarely moved from that divan, and more rarely still could be found sober any later in the day than luncheon. But the appearance of it! Shocking, very shocking indeed, particularly given the circumstances of Mr. Hurst’s death.
Of course I think no ill of Louisa—that, to be sure, is beyond question—but the appearance of it!
Furthermore, she is constantly speaking with Mr. Brooks in places where others cannot hear—and be sure I have tried!
There can be nothing in it, of course, but appearances.
Appearances! Husbands and wives must think of such things. ”
Caroline agreed with all without considering a single word, for it was necessary to ensure that Mrs. Lofton’s voice did not rise above a whisper and stir discontent, if not actual scandal.
As swiftly as the flow of conversation allowed, she steered herself toward Mrs. Hurst, closest to her in age and for many years, her best friend.
A good explanation for the lack of mourning was sure to follow.
Instead, she found herself listening to Mrs. Hurst’s own whispers: “Rachel thinks she is being very subtle, but indeed she is not. One does not wish to make assumptions about the state of a marriage, but with such behavior as hers—! Well, let the Loftons look to each other as best they can. I have written to our solicitors to learn what is to be done; his cousin inherits, of course, but I understand that I am to have a life estate upon nearly all the family holdings, and an ample jointure of my own. So I need not fear any deprivation, which is a great comfort.”
Many widows would have considered the deprivation of their husbands’ companionship to be a loss beyond almost any comfort, a fact that did not fail to strike Caroline Allerdyce.
“The Brookses, as you see, are much with us,” Mrs. Hurst said, pointing toward the corner where both Mr. and Mrs. Brooks were speaking with Mr. Lofton. “Did you ever imagine we should be so long haunted by the sisters Bennet?”
Caroline could but nod. The lack of grief evidenced by Mrs. Hurst was indeed shocking, but so, too, was the lack of compassion shown by Mrs. Lofton.
In some ways, most astonishing of all was the realization that, when she had been younger and more callow, not yet wed to Mr. Allerdyce, Caroline might have responded in exactly the same manner. She did not often think of herself as changed by matrimony, but she had been.
Once, after a long dinner at the Allerdyce residence in London, during which Mrs. Hurst and Mrs. Lofton judged the character of half of their society and found it wanting, Caroline had turned from her farewells at the end of the night to see her husband attempting—and failing—not to laugh.
“Caroline, my dearest, they are your sisters, and I know that you love them,” Mr. Allerdyce had said, “but are you altogether certain that you like them?”
She had reprimanded him then—but, perhaps, she had been too quick to do so.
As she could not be avoided forever, Jonathan elected to greet Priscilla Allerdyce on his own terms. “Miss Priscilla. I trust your journey went well?”
Priscilla, who had been laughing at one of Mrs. Lofton’s observations, was pleasantly surprised by this. “Indeed, Mr. Darcy, though I must say the best part has been our arrival, especially finding you here. You will be staying throughout our visit?”
“Actually, I have moved to stay with my grandparents at Longbourn,” Jonathan said. “I wished to give my room to Miss Tilney.” Had he not been so overwhelmed by the crush of persons, he might have taken amusement in Priscilla’s poor attempt to disguise her chagrin at this news.
Mrs. Lofton had apparently overheard. “It is only right and proper that you should spend time with your mother’s family as well, Mr. Darcy. Why, the Brookses should come to dinner with you there some night soon. A true reunion for you all!”
Jonathan could not see the point of a “reunion” when all persons besides himself lived within two miles of the same village, but as was often the case when Mrs. Lofton spoke, it did not appear that any reply was necessary.
Luncheon, large and noisy as it was, grated against Jonathan’s every nerve.
To his profound relief, once the meal had ended, all the Allerdyces went to refresh themselves after their journey, and the others went to rest. This left him alone with Miss Tilney, more or less, and gave them some time to work.
“I was thinking that we should speak with more members of the staff,” he suggested to her.
“Now that Netherfield hosts even more guests, they will all be even busier than before, and for some days if not weeks to come. This may be our last opportunity to have the cooks’ and maids’ undivided attention, if indeed that opportunity is not already lost. We did not ask about Mr. Brooks and Mrs. Hurst before, and it is possible there is much there to be learned. ”
“The opportunity is indeed lost,” Juliet said, “for I noticed this morning that preparations are being made to finish the monthly laundering, which means the dyeing is soon to begin.”
Every death within a household called for many garments to be dyed black.
If a family had been visited with tragedy repeatedly, the wardrobe might already hold mourning attire enough—but this was not the case at Netherfield, and Jonathan could well imagine the enormity of the task ahead.
Even servants normally unassociated with laundry and related tasks would be pulled into the effort.
“If we cannot immediately make progress in the investigation, then let us give you some time away from Netherfield,” Jonathan said. “Just an evening, so that you may face the morning fresh and better able to bring your powers of concentration to bear upon our investigation.”
“I would not mind that,” Miss Tilney said, “but how? Do you mean for—Would Mr. Lucas—”
“Not at all. I will send a note to my grandparents. Longbourn is but three miles hence, and if I ask, I am sure they will invite you to dinner. We may allow Mr. Bingley some time with his sisters, may we not?” Perhaps Mrs. Lofton had had a point.
“I shall see if they can ask the Brookses as well. That will at least give us a chance to observe them out of the company of all the others.”
“An excellent point.” She brightened. “If—if you truly think it would be all right—then, yes, Mr. Darcy. I should welcome the change.”
So encouraged was Jonathan by this opportunity to introduce Miss Tilney to more members of his family that he had written the note and sent it to Longbourn before he fully considered how the meal was likely to go.
His grandmother’s contempt for him and his grandfather’s lack of understanding were difficult to bear at the best of times; how much worse would it be if they were to display such in front of Miss Tilney!
Yet his grandparents always behaved better in company than they did among the family alone. With this, Jonathan consoled himself.