“And the Hursts have also come to Lady Susan’s attention,” agreed Bingley. “Her ladyship is not so interested in them, but as they are also to be connections, she has shown society that she accepts their acquaintance.”
“That is a boon for your family,” observed Darcy. “Never could you have gained acceptance with such alacrity without her assistance.”
“Well do I know it. Caroline is swooning with relief and gratitude for Lady Susan’s actions. For my part, I have regained something of the affectionate sister of my youth before thoughts of advancement consumed her. It is not a matter I consider lightly.”
Darcy nodded but did not respond. The notion of a tolerable Miss Bingley was still something of a novelty to him, such that he did not wish to canvass the subject much for fear of saying something he should not in a moment of inattention. Pleased as he was with the changes in his friend’s position in society and the acceptance he was finding, Darcy decided he had learned enough and did not approach the subject again. For the remainder of their time together, they spoke on unrelated subjects interspersed with Bingley’s frequent comments about Miss Bennet and his growing regard for her. Some things, it seemed, never changed.
IN TIME, ELIZABETH’Sdresses arrived, though not without another fitting, to which she submitted with no eagerness. Now outfitted in garb that would satisfy the judgmental eyes of their peers, Elizabeth and Darcy were more active in the season, though they limited their early forays to those events where they would find the most comfort. For Darcy, comfort in the season was a relative concept, for he had never been one to take part tothe extent that many others indulged. With Elizabeth, however, whatever trials he faced, he could do so with fortitude.
“Shall we attend the theater together?” asked Fitzwilliam one day during a visit to Darcy’s house. “I know you care little for the season, Darcy. Do you not think attending an event that interests you is the best way to ease your way into a society you will not enjoy?”
“He has a point, William,” said Elizabeth, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Should we attend the theater, we need only endure others’ impertinence before the performance and during the intermission.”
“Yet I am certain more eyes will be on us than on the stage,” muttered Darcy.
“You must endure that regardless of what you do.”
Darcy thought Fitzwilliam was far more jovial than the situation required, but the notion was not a bad one. “Did your cousin hold the lease to a box?”
“He did,” confirmed Fitzwilliam, “but that lease has lapsed because of my cousin’s passing. You should contact the theater and look into it—there is little chance they offered the lease to someone else, given the Darcys’ standing. In the meantime, it just so happens that we may use my father’s box until you renew my cousin’s lease on the box. And I shall, of course, attend that evening and introduce you. I shall even inform you of those to avoid.”
“I have some notion of that myself,” said Darcy, “though your support on that score is not unwelcome.”
Though Lord and Lady Matlock had introduced them to certain of their friends, they could not attend the evening, which subjected the Darcys to a greater measure of impertinence than others might have dared if they were present. Whether word of their appearance that evening somehow made its way to the gossips, Darcy could not say, but while he was no stranger to anevening at Covent Gardens, he had never seen such a press in the venerable theater, and everyone there wished an introduction to the newcomers. Fitzwilliam, it appeared, was in his element, for he jested and smoothed rough edges, distracted and deflected when the occasion demanded it.
As they had jested at some length before their wedding, Darcy could not be called the social part of their union—to a large extent, he found the people supercilious and condescending, their behavior objectionable, and their judgmental sneers abhorrent. Elizabeth, though she did not misunderstand the scorn others directed at them, disarmed with a smile and an arch comment, and held herself up as the queen Darcy considered her to be. If they did nothing more than throw their barbs at Darcy, he could imagine laughing and ignoring them altogether; as he heard several barbs directed at Elizabeth, he was not so sanguine. It was fortunate that she was as adept at turning such things aside as she was, for Darcy would not have endured them otherwise.
“What a surprise it was to learn that Pemberley was entailed to a distant relation,” said one man, an earl by the name of Lord Brightstone, of whom Darcy had heard but never met. “Why, I do not think there are more than a few in society who knew of Pemberley’s situation, or who was the heir.”
It was a common comment that evening among the men, for Darcy had heard it perhaps a dozen times by the time Lord Brightstone approached. “How distant do you call it, Brightstone?” asked Fitzwilliam, stepping in when he sensed Darcy’s patience waning. “What is your relation to Jameson?”
“Third cousins, I believe,” supplied Darcy. “It was my great-grandfather who instituted the entail.”
“Then nottoodistant,” agreed Brightstone, though it appeared far too distant for him. “You share in the history ofthe Darcy family but lack the closer connections of the previous generations.”
“Except that my parents have accepted them as near relations,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Darcy has even taken on the role of my cousin’s second guardian with her brother’s passing.”
“Did he?” asked Brightstone, seeming to find that interesting. “Then you must be a man of some integrity, for I do not think Matlock would trust you otherwise.”
“I was not unknown to his lordship,” replied Darcy, wishing Brightstone would go away. “Moral character is not the exclusive domain of the nobility.”
“Well said, Darcy,” replied Lord Brightstone. “I hope to maintain our acquaintance, for I suspect you are a worthy sort, despite your upbringing.”
With that, Brightstone retreated, leaving Darcy glaring holes in his back. By his side, Fitzwilliam allowed a chuckle, though Darcy suspected he felt little mirth.
“As you have already divined, Brightstone is among the less savory of his level of society.”
“I have no interest in a friendship with him,” was Darcy’s curt reply.
“Nor do I suppose he does in you,” replied Fitzwilliam. “As ‘birds of a feather’ is all too apropos in his case, I do not doubt he will consider your interests far too tame for his liking.”
“That is just as well. At least he paid little attention to Elizabeth.”
“True enough, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam. “Brightstone cares little whether his conquests are married.”
No one else who presented themselves to Darcy was as objectionable as Lord Brightstone, but they were not at all welcome either. While they had been engaged with Brightstone, Darcy had noted that a woman of perhaps middle years and a regal bearing had approached Elizabeth, and now that he wasfree to do so, Darcy offered his support. The lady was diminutive and pudgy, her features unremarkable and a little ruddy, but she carried herself as if she were the queen. At the lady’s signal, Elizabeth introduced her as Lady Marjorie Thornton, though the name meant nothing to Darcy. When the introductions were complete, the lady lost no time in speaking.
“Mr. Darcy. I have just been speaking with your wife. She appears a pretty, witty sort of girl, though I will own I had never heard of her before.”
