Caroline’s dislike of Mrs Lanyon was from her jealousy of any woman Darcy esteemed, and apparently riding together was enough to make her suspect the woman in question of an improper attachment.
I had wondered why they did not get on, given how similar their backgrounds seem, and how their brothers are friends.Both were from trade, fashionably educated, accustomed to associating with people of rank, accomplished, and agreeable when they chose to take the trouble. Caroline might be jealous because she thought Mrs Lanyon a rival for Mr Darcy’s affections, but it did not explain the widow’s dislike in return.
Caroline Bingley might never take the hint that Darcy did not wish to be agreed with or deferred to. He would thoroughly despise any woman who assiduously courted him. Mrs Lanyon’s simple request to join in an activity with him and his sister would have greater appeal than all the flattery Caroline could show him.
A sense of disquiet filled her as she made her way to her room to rest before dinner. Elizabeth was not jealous of Mrs Lanyon, but she did have a new regret that she had never learnt to ride and could not accompany Darcy on a long ride across the countryside.
CHAPTER FIVE
Elizabeth was still thinking about what it might be like to spend an afternoon in Darcy’s sole company when Carew strode in. Miss Darcy’s maid had her standing in her shift in seconds. Any belief that she had the power of choice over what she wore this evening was swiftly set aside as Carew selected a gown, and then moved behind her to lace her stays. Every tug jolted her off balance, and Carew’s hoop ring scratched her skin.
“Have you anything to distress you today, Carew?”
“No, ma’am.” Her voice rose in surprise. “Why do you ask?”
She had thought being pulled about was an indication of distraction, or a dislike for the task, but perhaps Carew was simply too intent and swift to notice how she jostled her. Miss Darcy did not seem the sort of mistress to speak up about such things.
“’Tis no matter. Miss Darcy is fortunate to have someone as skilled as you. And I am grateful to have your help in the evenings.”
“The master thought you might be glad of better help than an upper housemaid’s,” Carew said before turning her roughly and tugging the gown up. “But I do not mind agreeing with you. None of the other maids waiting on the ladies here can arrange hair, remove a stain, or sew as fine a seam as I can.”
Carew tied her gown swiftly, turned her, and pushed her by the shoulders to sit before the glass. “I understand you walked the park today.” She wore an aspect of stern displeasure, but Elizabeth realised it was only the lady’s natural expression.
“It was a delightful walk. I hope to see more of it if this clear weather holds.”
“It was cold today for August. I suspect you had to wear your purple pelisse, ma’am?”
“I did. I had it made before going into Kent in March, and had no notion I would still be wearing it in August. Were you outside today yourself?”
“Yes, ma’am. I visited my father.” Elizabeth recollected her saying he was Pemberley’s carpenter before she continued. “I saw Mr Utterson riding back from Lambton whilst I was walking; he said he had been to post his letters. You were with him in the portrait gallery this morning, I heard the steward say.”
Elizabeth nodded, smiling a little at how fast news spread through a house, and Carew frowned, adding, “I only say this because the master and his sister took an interest in you, but you ought not to set your cap at Mr Utterson.”
“Why does everyone assume a walk in the gallery is going to lead to a walk to the altar?”
“Every single lady with no fortune hopes to be married and well-provided for,” Carew said as though she thought her a simpleton. The brush in her hair resumed its firm strokes. “His valet says Mr James Utterson does not always have the patience that could be wished for, and I think with that manner he would not make an affectionate husband.”
Darcy would be a kind, tender husband.A man who was as good a master, landlord, friend, and brother as Darcy was likely to be a good-hearted man devoted to his wife. He had expected a very warm return of the affections he had professed to her, and then she had told him in the strongest, unkindest possible returns that she did not want him to be her husband.
“Do you not like your hair, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth checked her reflection, steadied her emotions, and agreedit was pretty, and Carew kept at work arranging her hair. “What of the other people in the party?” She did not want to hear further talk about Mr Utterson or Darcy. “Can you tell me anything about them?”
Carew’s stern expression relaxed. “Miss Darcy said how different you appear from Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Even though your sister only just married Mr Bingley, I expect you needn’t me to tell you about them.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I met Caroline and Louisa last autumn. And I understand them as much as I need to.”
“Miss Darcy also said how highly her brother had spoken of you these past months, and how she wishes to know you better. You shall have to help her on.”
She started at the compliment, and Carew had to pin her hair again.“I had feared I would find Miss Darcy to be proud, but from my observations yesterday, I am convinced she is only exceedingly shy.”
“She is, ma’am. She has recently suff—she is young and has much to learn, but I have high hopes for her.”
Wishing to move quickly from any hint of what happened at Ramsgate—and that she knew about it—Elizabeth asked, “What about Mrs Lanyon and Mr Balfour?”
“Their father is a Scot who made his fortune in the East India Company, and their mother was an Indian. I know what you might be thinking, but they were married properly, Islamic rites in India. But she died, and he came home with their children when they were still young.”
“They seem near to one another in age.”
