36. The Serpent’s Tongue, Trimmed
The Serpent’s Tongue, Trimmed
The Matlocks’ grandson, who had been born seven days earlier, was stout and increasingly fat and reportedly cried far less than the couple’s own children had.
Georgiana was enthralled by the babe and remained in Surrey, but satisfied that she had done her maternal duties, Lady Matlock returned to town, writing to Darcy that she wished to meet ‘this Miss Elizabeth Bennet’ and learn whether her nephew had justly dealt with Miss Bingley and her falsehoods.
Elizabeth was not prone to nerves but happily accepted Darcy’s assurances that Lady Catherine’s flaming character was singular amongst his relations. “Lady Matlock is delighted I am thwarting her sister-in-law’s demands that I marry Anne.”
A few days following their encounter with Miss Bingley, Darcy led Elizabeth up the stairs of the grand Matlock town house, where his aunt, a tall raven-haired woman with a complexion that had surely never seen the sun, awaited them in a sumptuously decorated saloon.
After introductions were made, refreshments served, and Elizabeth’s appearance and connexions canvassed, the countess began her enquiries.
“Your letter to me was brief, Nephew, announcing your engagement and declaring that the matter of Miss Bingley and her lothario of a brother was settled. Tell me you have given her a terrific set-down. Was the rebuke done where a crowd was gathered, perhaps amid the crowds at Vauxhall or at Covent Garden?”
“Mr Darcy was of a more theatrical bent,” said Elizabeth. “A crocodile, its teeth bared, could have been no better audience to the chastening conversation.”
Darcy gave her an indulgent look. “Bullock’s new museum,” he said drolly to his bemused aunt.
“Ah, the perfect place to cut out the serpent’s tongue.”
Elizabeth smiled, feeling a great sense of relief upon meeting Darcy’s aunt.
Though the lady was of an imperious nature like Lady Catherine, her directives and questions were spoken in a warm but refined manner, and her eyes held a merriment similar to that of the colonel’s.
Of course, she recognised the countess was clever as well, having imagined her own remedy for Miss Bingley with the salaciously false tale about her skulking about with a footman.
Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy relished their own roles as revenge-seekers and, having quashed that rumour, found some grace that despite her malice, Miss Bingley had been shamed but not ruined.
How could any lady of wealth, looks, and with family who cared for her, be thought ruined, reasoned Elizabeth—who, although not sympathetic, could not be said to be cruel.
Darcy, more capable than she of telling the story with cool detachment, told his aunt that the renown which Miss Caroline Bingley had long desired amongst the ton had been won—though of course, it was less admiration than scorn which had earned it.
Such newfound notoriety would, he thought, dissipate now that she had retreated to her aunt’s home in Sheffield while awaiting the release of her fortune.
Miss Bingley’s companion, a Mrs Pope, did not accompany her north but was pleased to recount to callers, whose numbers had increased since her foray to the Egyptian Hall, all that she knew of her former boarder.
Bingley was giving up the lease on Netherfield and although his acquaintance with Elizabeth’s uncle Gardiner was exceedingly brief, cited him as an example of a gentleman in trade living near his investments as reason to remove himself to Lancashire, ‘where country families may be as welcoming as they are in Hertfordshire’.
“He wrote this to you?” Elizabeth asked, surprised that even a man as impulsive as Mr Bingley would move so decisively, so quickly.
“’Wrote?’ In a manner of speaking, yes,” Darcy replied drily.
She bit back a smile. She had seen Mr Bingley’s scribblings, a great contrast to the fine, practised but malicious hand of his sister.
“I would wish you to cut them both,” declared Lady Matlock, “though I suppose they have retreated to their origins and will make no further efforts to ingratiate themselves in the ton.”
The countess looked at Darcy expectantly—not as haughtily as his other aunt, perhaps, but certainly conveying her meaning. Elizabeth found herself relieved when he replied merely with a shrug, saying, “Bingley has his factories with which to busy himself. I have far happier business to attend to.”
Accepting his cue, the lady turned her attentions to Elizabeth.
“Darcy does not give approval easily to others, but he admires you. I see there is clear amity between you and believe you will do nicely for him and be a good sister to my niece. Your engagement and wedding will provide much conversation for the ton.”
Darcy groaned quietly, prompting an exasperated glance from his aunt, which Elizabeth liked very much.
“Now that the rumours have been made a mockery and the malefactors are again beneath anyone’s notice, you must give the gossips what they want. An unlikely romantic pairing such as yours is seen as a starry-eyed love story. We must ensure it is accepted as the truth.”
“It is the truth!” Darcy nearly stood, so great was his response to what he evidently perceived as an insult.
Elizabeth tugged his arm. “It is. We have struggled together, through our own misunderstandings and the prevarications of others, to realise our greatest happiness is with one another.”
Darcy took her hand, surprising her by bringing it to his lips. “Our attachment is not the work of a day but has stood the test of many months’ suspense.”
Rather than appearing shocked by such an overt display of affection, Lady Matlock looked thoughtful. She peered closely at Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, you must make yourself a figure of fashion.”
Elizabeth wished nothing of the kind and said so. “I fear such a feat may prove beyond me, for I am not at all fashionable and wholly lacking in accomplishments.”
“Untrue!” Darcy’s vehement avowal drew smiles from both ladies.
“You are not beautiful in the classic manner, but I find myself tiring of perfection,” said the countess.
“Your eyes are remarkably expressive, and while you are very charming, you are also lively. I wonder at your ability to act demurely for more than a quarter of an hour, though perhaps that is due to my nephew’s presence. ”
Elizabeth laughed, Darcy smiled, and Lady Matlock looked on with twinkling eyes.
“You see! You laugh, and Darcy smiles.”
“Forgive me,” Elizabeth said, still smiling.
The countess returned to her point. “We must take your character into account, of course. You are intelligent, bold, and well-spoken, and you seem to value Darcy’s happiness over society’s good opinion.”
“My boldness has been seen less favourably by others. Both my mother and Lady Catherine think me impertinent and headstrong.”
“The earl will tell you that Catherine was both of those as a girl, but she could boast none of your other virtues.”
Lady Matlock’s praise shocked Elizabeth. Darcy, however, was stifling a chuckle.
“Boldness is courage. Impertinence in Miss Bennet may be bravery and wit in Mrs Darcy. You are not a fool, my dear. You know how to prevent giving offence and, apparently, how to address the behaviour of those who do.”