She looked as if she did not know what to say next. It was often uphill work to get Mrs Lanyon to speak, but Elizabeth was determined to know her better. “Northern Britain is well represented in India through the East India Company,” she said conversationally.
“Yes. So many of my countrymen have been in India that my father every now and then is meeting with an acquaintance who was there, and many of them bring word of the city we once lived in.”
“Was he disappointed to leave India?”
Mrs Lanyon frowned and looked away. Elizabeth thought she wasgoing to change the subject, but she then said, “The truth is there was conflict between my father and the East India Company because he had married my mother in Islamic rites, and they feared he had embraced the religion along with the dress and customs. But also, many of the Hyderabad court could not fully accept my noble mother’s mixed-race children. However, both of my parents feared the injurious consequences resulting from bringing up certain children in Britain.”
Elizabeth shook her head, not understanding. “Certainchildren?”
“Neither of us has a complexion that could escape detection.”
Although it was more obvious with Mrs Lanyon than with Mr Balfour, one might guess by sight that their forebears had come from somewhere far from Britain. “My dear Mrs Lanyon, I hope that the majority of people take you on your own merits.”
“I am not ashamed of my affinity to my mother’s race,” she said plainly, “even if I choose to speak less often in company to spare myself needless confrontations with those like your sister-in-law.”
“Indians are not as well represented here as Scots are there, but there are ladies from India who accompanied their husbands home, and Indians who were born here.”
“I find that is so more often in London or Edinburgh,” Mrs Lanyon said. “Wherever we lived, India or Scotland, our complexion would subject us to scrutiny.”
“And neither side trusted the other when your father served with the East India Company? Is that why he left?”
“No, my parents were devoted to one another, and my mother did not wish to leave home. My father spent nearly twenty years in Hyderabad before we were born. He hated the climate, but loved his wife, and it was only after she died that he returned to Scotland.”
“What do you remember about living in India?”
“Only a child’s memories. I can remember the veranda. I correspond with my grandmother, and I think her stories mix with my memories,” she added softly. “I was five when we left; Lewis was three. I remember being called Nur, named for my mother’s sister. My father will sometimes slip and call me Nur at home, but Lewis has no memory of ayahs calling him Sahib Allum or me Sahib Begum.”
“It is a shame you cannot share those memories with Mr Balfour.”
Mrs Lanyon shrugged. “Not every experience can be shared with a sibling, especially as our interests, or business, or friends take us in opposite directions.”
Elizabeth thought of how Jane had found new companionship with her husband and would find closer connexions with young married women like her. “Yes, that is the way of things.”
Mrs Lanyon gave her a soft look. “Of course, brother and sister have a different relationship from the bond between sisters. I am certain you will always be dear to Mrs Bingley.” Elizabeth smiled politely, thinking again of how little Jane had seen of her growing attachment to Darcy. “Perhaps when you marry, you will find an intimate and trustworthy companion in your husband.”
This was said heavily, and Elizabeth blushed. Darcy would be the sort of man with whom she could talk about anything, or nothing. Before either of them could speak, Mr Balfour and Mr Utterson entered in the midst of some conversation with Darcy.
“No, I cannot spend heavily now. I must consult my means rather than my wishes,” Darcy said wearily.
Mr Utterson threw himself into a chair near to Elizabeth. “Since the flood, you are a gloomy, stiff creature.”
Everyone looked askance at Mr Utterson’s ill-breeding.
“No, not at all,” said Mrs Lanyon politely. “In fact, Mr Darcy is particularly interesting in conversation lately since he has so much to think on.”
Mr Utterson gave a grimace that Elizabeth supposed was his attempt at a gracious smile. “Of course, madam. The subject of Darcy not being able to spend merely took me by surprise.”
Elizabeth wondered if a woman like Mrs Lanyon, someone with her own wealth, would be a better match for Darcy.My lack of fortune would not have mattered to him a week ago, but he is now in a situation where a marriage that brought him wealth would be to his immediate advantage.Elizabeth took solace in remembering Darcy’s words in the library from earlier today, but that did not make her less eager for his trials to be over so they could have the private conversation he promised.
“I shall beable to make both ends meet this year,” Darcy said, his arms folded across his chest, “but I will have a real want of money in the future.” To distract the others from such further talk, Darcy asked, “How did you gentlemen spend your day?”
“Not in as trying a manner as you,” Balfour said, giving a strained laugh. “It must have been wretched for you to find that woman in the stream.”
From the look on Utterson’s face, Darcy suspected Utterson found the subject tiresome. The subject of Carew’s death had been well canvassed at dinner. When he and his sister had broken the news to Mr Carew, he learnt she had visited her father and was returning to Pemberley when she died.
When Darcy made no reply other than a quiet sigh, Utterson said, “Well, I rode early to Tissington where I had some sport with Lord Poole.”
Balfour muttered an aside that sounded like “Fine sport with Poole’s daughter.”
