Chapter 16
Mr. Stephen Fulford had been speaking of Lisbon for a quarter of an hour without any sign of pausing. As a result, Elizabeth had learned a great deal about Lisbon and almost nothing about Mr. Fulford.
“Of course, the diplomatic mission is in Rio de Janeiro now,” he said, and for a moment Elizabeth feared they were about to begin over with another city. “The Portuguese court is in exile there, and the work would be engaging. It is the city for a man the Foreign Office intends to put to work.”
“It would be an exciting assignment,” she agreed.
“It would be. But a diplomatic household requires a mistress, especially one who can manage a table in two languages.”
“I can decline an invitation in two,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Does that fulfil the requirement?”
Mr. Fulford laughed louder at her quip than it deserved, which told her that either he had not understood her meaning or was pretending not to.
Lady Anne had presented him to her an hour ago with a light touch on Elizabeth’s sleeve and an approving pause before his name—the third gentleman this winter to be introduced in such a manner.
Mr. Cresswell had wanted assistance with his parish.
Mr. Reed had needed a mother for his children.
Mr. Fulford required a hostess for a house in a country across the sea.
None of them, so far as Elizabeth could determine, had wanted her, though she conceded they could hardly be blamed for it. The information Lady Anne had drawn from her was only superficial, and she had not offered anything more.
Elizabeth wished she understood her own feelings.
Normally, she would not have minded at all being introduced to new people, even to potential suitors.
After Mr. Collins’s terrible offer, she had been put off.
But the men Lady Anne had introduced her to were all good men.
It was only that none of them knew much about her beyond the information Lady Anne had supplied.
In that way, even Mr. Darcy had the advantage, for although their acquaintance had been at times contentious, at least they knew something about one another. Certainly more than polite conversation could reveal.
“You would like Rio, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Fulford was saying. “The society is small but select.”
“I am sure there is much to admire in it.”
“Then you would not object to such a distance?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I think I am too fond of England to be a credit to any gentleman settled so far from it. I should rather admire Rio very sincerely from this side of the Atlantic.” It was not entirely true.
She would love to travel, should the opportunity ever arise.
But to live for years so far from all her family? No, that she would not like.
“Are you so attached to home?”
“Not always, perhaps. Just enough to know when another person’s happiness would require more enthusiasm for faraway places than I could honestly promise.”
Mr. Fulford was not at all discouraged by this, for he smiled and turned to the subject of harbours. Elizabeth’s attention wandered.
She could see Miss Bingley standing near the fire with Lady Finch, appearing well pleased with her evening.
Within a quarter of an hour of the Gardiners’ party being announced, she had claimed the company of a Miss Penelope Grantley and settled her on the sofa nearest Mr. Darcy.
It was a strange thing, for Elizabeth had always thought Miss Bingley wanted Mr. Darcy for herself.
Miss Grantley laughed a good deal.
Mr. Darcy was clever—Elizabeth had never disputed that.
But in the whole course of their acquaintance, she had heard him make a jest perhaps three times, and at least one of those had been nearly indistinguishable from a rebuke.
The laughter, therefore, must have another source—or no source at all, she supposed.
Did the ladies not understand that Mr. Darcy would not respond well to empty flattery?
Miss Bingley ought to know it if her friend did not.
It was not many minutes before Mr. Darcy rose from the sofa, bowed to Miss Grantley, and removed himself to the far side of the room, where a fair lady Elizabeth did not know stood a little apart from the card tables. Miss Bingley’s head turned. Miss Grantley’s fan stopped mid-flutter.
Elizabeth, listening to Mr. Fulford with half an ear, enjoyed it very much. Mr. Darcy had made his departure so politely they had no cause for offense.
Miss Grantley did not sit alone for long. She rose, collected Miss Bingley, and arrived on her arm before Mr. Fulford had finished speaking about the third landing area in what she was to understand was an enormous harbour.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” said Miss Bingley, “Miss Grantley has asked to be introduced to you.”
Elizabeth completed her part of the introduction.
“Miss Elizabeth.” Miss Grantley curtseyed prettily. “You are fond of walking, I hear. Miss Bingley tells me you are out in all sorts of weather. How hardy you must be. I should be terrified of the wind.”
“The wind has never yet blown me anywhere I regretted.”
“How charming,” Miss Grantley said, though the sourness of her expression suggested she did not find it anything of the sort. “Of course, in town one need not walk at all.”
“That is what I find,” Elizabeth agreed. She did not mention that she had walked in Hyde Park each Tuesday for the past month and that her last walk had placed her in the company of Mr. Darcy.
For the first time, she felt something very like sympathy for him.
If Lady Anne had been arranging his acquaintances as neatly as she had been arranging Elizabeth’s, then Mr. Darcy was also beset.
Elizabeth could not approve of all his manners, but she could empathise with any person expected to fall in love simply because an eligible match was dangled before him.
Miss Grantley did not seem to know what to make of Elizabeth’s brief reply, and she gazed about the room, in search of better employment.
“I have prevailed upon Miss Grantley to sing after tea, for she was trained by a pupil of Rauzzini’s,” Miss Bingley said in an attempt to save the conversation.
Beside Elizabeth, Mr. Fulford had born the interruption with civility, but he had been stopped in the middle of his description of the harbour, and he plainly knew exactly where.
Elizabeth was quick to take the opportunity.
“But how remiss I am. Miss Grantley, may I present Mr. Fulford, who is very shortly to be posted abroad. Mr. Fulford was just telling me that the society in Rio de Janeiro is small but select. Mr. Fulford, I think you must have heard that Miss Grantley is to sing for us this evening in Italian. Do you also speak French, Miss Grantley?”
“Of course,” she replied.
“Really?” Mr. Fulford inquired. “Have you ever been to Brazil, Miss Grantley?”
Miss Grantley turned to Mr. Fulford with what seemed to be genuine attention. Mr. Fulford, supplied with a new listener, began to expound upon the Portuguese court. Elizabeth stepped back half a pace from the group and was soon entirely unremarked.
She turned and found Mr. Darcy watching her from across the room. He did not smile. The corners of his mouth seemed about to curl upwards, but before they could he was grave again. He had seen the whole manoeuvre, but she could not tell whether he had approved of it.
Elizabeth turned away first. It seemed wisest, for her heart was fluttering and she did not understand why.
When she risked a second glance, he had returned to the fair lady. He was talking, not being talked at, which was his usual role at his mother’s gatherings. He was making a reply of some length. He inclined his head to hear the answer. He was listening, not waiting.
It was a small, unreasonable feeling. Mr. Darcy might talk to whomever he pleased. She had no claim on his conversation.
“Masterly,” said Lady Anne, at her elbow.
Elizabeth had not heard her approach. “Mr. Fulford might actually do very well for Miss Grantley. Come, my dear. There is someone you must know.” She shook her closed fan just a touch, and the fair lady who had been speaking with Mr. Darcy began to cross the room to them.
“Miss Elizabeth, this is my young friend Miss Finch. Miss Finch, Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Miss Elizabeth.” Miss Finch curtseyed. “I am very pleased to meet you. Lady Anne has given you an excellent character.”
“Oh dear. I do hope her compliments can survive closer scrutiny.” Elizabeth curtsied in return. “I am very pleased to meet you as well, Miss Finch.”
Lady Anne, having achieved her purpose, allowed herself to be reclaimed by her other guests.
“Shall we stand by the window?” said Miss Finch. “There is a draught, I am afraid, but it is very effective at keeping people from wishing to join us.”
“An inducement and a safeguard in one,” Elizabeth said.
Miss Finch smiled, and they moved to the window.
The draught was a little cool, but Elizabeth struggled in overly warm rooms and so it did not bother her.
The rest of the party kept its distance.
For a little while she and Miss Finch stood side by side and watched the performance of twenty or more people all anxious to appear at their best.
“Is it true you have four sisters?” Miss Finch asked at last.
“Quite true. One elder, three younger. My sister Jane is here tonight.” Elizabeth found her near Mr. Bingley, who stood at the centre of a knot of laughing people. “There. Beside Mr. Bingley.”
“The beautiful one. I noticed her when I came in.” Miss Finch considered the group a moment. “Mr. Bingley keeps a great deal of company about him.”
“People seem to be drawn to him without any effort on his part.”
“I would find that rather tiring,” said Miss Finch.
Elizabeth thought about that for a moment. She supposed it might be, but Mr. Bingley seemed to enjoy it.
“And what do you do with your mornings in town, Miss Elizabeth? I ask everyone, but nobody has yet given me an answer other than writing letters or preparing for calls.”