“What do you think of my aunt’s scheme?” Darcy asked Elizabeth after Lady Matlock departed.
Elizabeth shook her head ruefully, smiling. “I am not sure that having an opinion is part of my role in this. But in all seriousness, I see nothing to criticise. Certainly she must know more of how society is to be managed than I. I had rather knowyouropinion.”
“I am more versed in avoiding gossip than managing it,” he replied with a bemused expression. “I am inclined to trust my aunt in this; as you say, she is the knowledgeable party here.”
She reached for Darcy’s hand, wishing to reassure him as much as herself. “I do appreciate the effort she is willing to expend on our behalf—or rather, yours. She cannot yet trust me, much lesslikeme, but she shows a faith in you that can only induce me to admire her.”
“Then we shall follow her lead.”
“And perhaps,” suggested Mrs Gardiner, “we might hope someone else will stir up a greater scandal and divert attention.”
This bit of levity lightened the mood for only a moment, for Elizabeth was quite concerned about a related matter, which she soon laid before the two people she most trusted to advise her. “If only it had been anyone but Caroline Bingley behind it all! Have Jane and Mr Bingley not suffered enough? This will hurt them both—in society, yes, but to discover that his sister has been so vicious? I hardly know how to tell Jane.”
“You will leave that to me, Lizzy, and worry about your own future,” Mrs Gardiner said firmly.
Darcy cast her a look full of gratitude and squeezed his betrothed’s hand. “And I shall speak with Bingley tonight. He will be angry, more for your sister’s sake than his own, I expect.”
“It is amazing to me that she should so callously work to bring her brother down in society, even if she cares nothing for his personal happiness,” said Elizabeth. “Would his descent not damage her own prospects?”
“If he could be enticed or dragged away from Miss Bennet, he would not be damaged in the eyes of society now that she is held in suspicion and disdain. That is, I believe, Miss Bingley’s strategy. And if she can then attach him to the Symondses, the Bingleys would be thereby elevated and her own prospects improved. She is gambling that either Bingley will choose his standing over your sister or, if he does not, that her own loyalty to the Symondses and the very society which scornsher brotherwill protecther.”
Mrs Gardiner shook her head and frowned in disapprobation. Elizabeth, realising that she was gaping at Darcy in horror, tried to school her expression. As much as the young ladies of Meryton had jockeyed for position on those rare occasions an eligible young man appeared, she did not believe any of the friends of her youth would maliciously blast the happiness and respectability of another—much less an excellent brother!—in pursuit of the married state. It seemed that in the higher circles, there was a great deal more to worry about than having punch deliberately spilled upon one’s dress.
“Is her very own brother truly just a disposable piece in her game of social advancement?” Elizabeth wondered aloud, some of her dismay leaking into her voice. “I could not imagine feeling or behaving so.”
Darcy squeezed her hand. “That is why she never had a chance with me, and you captured my heart without even trying.”
* * *
Darcy had conferred with Bingley, and the notice of both engagements ran in theTimeson Monday, one atop the other. This caused disturbances to breakfasts in many a fine house that day, as readers exclaimed over them. Miss Caroline Bingley and Miss Josephine Symonds were among those who could not allow the news to pass silently, and Sir Everard found it expedient to attend his club at a shockingly early hour as a result.
Elizabeth was conveyed by her uncle’s carriage to Grosvenor Square, where she was to be introduced to Lord Matlock. He was polite but cool; to Elizabeth, it was clear the older man wondered what his nephew saw in a passably pretty girl of no apparent distinction.I am tolerable, at least,she laughed to herself.
In the plush Matlock carriage on the way to Gunter’s, Elizabeth fixed her ladyship with an earnest look and said, “You must allow me to thank you for the generosity which induced you to take so much trouble for Mr Darcy’s sake. I understand that you cannot know me well enough to be certain that I am no fortune hunter, and that your assistance is all for him, and for Georgiana. I hope to one day earn your trust and approbation on my own account, but for now I am grateful that you extend it on his.”
Lady Matlock nodded graciously, clearly pleased that Elizabeth had the sense to comprehend her position and the courage to speak openly of it. “I share that hope, and my doubts about you are, I will admit, already rather slight. My nephew is perhaps not the best judge of character, but his misjudgements have tended towards convicting on slim evidence, rather than acquitting the guilty.”
Elizabeth laughed and agreed.
“It will be best, I think, if we pretend to a closer relationship than we presently enjoy,” she continued. “Might I call you Elizabeth?”
“Whatever your ladyship thinks best.”
They sat at a table for two, so that no one could impose upon them for long. The refreshments were delicious, but Elizabeth hardly had time to sample them, so constant was the stream of acquaintances who simply must speak with the countess and be introduced to her young companion. Although she was accustomed to gossip spreading quickly in a town the size of Meryton, Elizabeth found it astonishing, and somewhat amusing, how widely circulated in London were the conflicting rumours about the Bennet sisters—that they were adventuresses from a home devoid of all propriety who had ruthlessly trapped two eligible bachelors, or that Darcy and Bingley had fallen madly in love with sisters from a perfectly acceptable, if obscure, gentle family. Lady Matlock’s open approval and Elizabeth’s easy amiability lent credence to the latter. Her ladyship was quick to express her delight that her nephew was at last settling down, and that he had found a lady who, like himself, preferred the country. When anyone was so bold as to hint at the less salubrious rumours, Elizabeth was in open admiration of Lady Matlock’s skill at turning them back on their source, swiftly and devastatingly, in a few words.
“Oh, you do know that tale was spread about by Miss Bingley, do you not? She has been chasing my nephew most blatantly these three years at least—as though he would marry a woman of her birth! I would feel sorry for her disappointment if she were not such a scheming mushroom, and had not spread such dreadful lies about our dear Elizabeth and her excellent sister.”
Elizabeth could hardly keep from laughing at the comeuppance being given to Miss Bingley. She smiled to herself, thinking,How Mama would have enjoyed such social gamesmanship!
* * *
After a rather gruelling two hours at Gunter’s, Lady Matlock gave Elizabeth over into Darcy’s care at the most fashionable gate into Hyde Park. Jane and Bingley were there also, for Jane had determined that in braving the stares and whispers of society she would aid the two people she loved best, her future husband and her dearest sister. “Let them talk,” she had told Elizabeth when they discussed the matter, “and let them stare. Only let them also see that we love our gentlemen and they, us.”
After Elizabeth assured Darcy that all had gone well with his aunt, the quartet strolled Rotten Row at the fashionable hour, determined to enjoy each other’s company. The stares and whispers commenced immediately, but it was some minutes before anyone dared approach them directly, though several acquaintances of the gentlemen did nod at them civilly in passing.
The first to breach the invisible perimeter about them was a gentleman of about six and twenty, who called heartily, “Darcy! Well met!” Elizabeth could see from her betrothed’s relaxed expression that this was someone whose company he enjoyed, and when the man requested an introduction to the rest of Darcy’s party, she learnt that he was Lord John FitzRoy, the second son of the Duke of Grafton, who had been at Cambridge with Darcy for two years. She and Jane sank into deep curtseys, and Bingley bowed with a look of near-terror.
“A pleasure, a real pleasure,” Lord John said, studying the ladies with an ornate quizzing-glass on a velvet ribbon, an affectation made impish by the sly wink his magnified eye bestowed upon them. “And my congratulations upon your betrothals,” he added, lowering the glass. “I would request an invitation to the wedding, but I am bound for Northamptonshire next week and shall be firmly fixed there until the new year. You will come for the Season, Darcy?”
