“Had?” repeated Lady Matlock, and her friend merely inclined her head.
It was the very purpose of their call, and though it meant little to Elizabeth, she observed Lady Matlock flush, with a spark of anger in her eyes.
No other word was said on that subject. The conversations continued on unimportant events and ten minutes later they left.
∞∞∞
“Miss Henry has been staying this summer with the Staffords,” Lady Matlock said, as they drove away. To Elizabeth, it seemed like a game in which she did not yet know the rules; Lady Matlock asked no questions, yet the answer came in a phrase that both she and Lady Westshire perfectly understood. Elizabeth was reminded of her mother’s interminable conferences with Aunt Phillips, in which every trifling fact was cut into smaller pieces, and then recomposed a hundred times. Was this the form which gossip assumed in theton, or was it peculiar to specific topics?
She had many questions, yet her acquaintance with Lady Matlock was not so intimate as to permit her to ask them. Nevertheless, the visit had been of singular interest. Yet her continuous surprise was Mary, who gave the appropriateanswers, knew when to smile, and generally made an excellent impression.
Upon their return, Mary requested leave to go to the library, which Lady Matlock granted with marked satisfaction.
“You see, that is the conduct I should wish in my son’s future wife,” she remarked.
As Elizabeth looked uncertain, the countess explained while pouring the tea. “Ladies such as yourself and Miss Mary—she asked to go to the library to read, not to display herself as a woman of learning. It is merely the showing of one’s true nature, and not acting a part in some villainous play. I desire that his future wife should be, before all else, interested in my son, and only thereafter regard such matters as family, society, or fortune.”
With Lady Matlock presently distracted by the cook, who required direction for the dinner, Elizabeth permitted her thoughts to wander.I am interested, my lady—most sincerely interested—in your nephew, she said within herself; she perfectly understood the spirit of Lady Matlock’s words. She desired to love Mr Darcy, and to marry him for no cause but love.
“So, Miss Henry has been with Lady Stafford,” the countess concluded, as if disclosing the last piece of a puzzle.
“Do you think she is still in London?” Elizabeth asked.
“I cannot say. If her parents truly reside in the North, she may yet be in London; but we shall wait for Darcy to arrive, and he will assist me in deciding our next step.”
“And of course I shall rely upon you both also,” the countess said, with warmth and confidence.
Feeling finally at ease in her Ladyship’s presence, Elizabeth ventured to enquire, “Have you learnt all that you wished to know from your conversation with Lady Westshire?”
To her surprise, she laughed, plainly amused. “Clever girl!”
She was silent for a moment, and Elizabeth feared she had presumed too far. Yet, she was mistaken, for the smile did not leave the countess’s face as she continued, “There are subjects which must be approached with delicacy. I know for certain that neither Lady Westshire nor several other ladies within my circle hold any liking for Miss Henry, but, like myself, they were prepared to respect Richard’s choice and to receive her. Therefore, we cannot utter anything disagreeable that might remain fixed upon her as a permanent blemish. Yet, as a mother, I have the right to be informed, and my friends are ready to help me with discretion.”
Elizabeth smiled in return and said with admiration, “A memorable exchange of words and a commendable disposition.”
“Thank you,” replied the countess, gratified, and somewhat more at ease in the knowledge that she was surrounded by persons who cared for Richard, and who were ready to aid her in saving him, should there be necessity.
Chapter 14
At last, in her chamber, Elizabeth walked near the window, observing the street. Even at that late hour, carriages continued to pass; it seemed that London never surrendered to sleep. The day had been among the most eventful of her life, though of a nature wholly distinct from the enchantment of Pemberley. If intelligence in thetonwere commonly conveyed in the manner she had witnessed that afternoon, then her mother’s indiscreet disclosure of Jane’s possible engagement to Mr Bingley had been a grave error—one which Mr Darcy had, with justice, amended. She had never approved of her mother’s practice of spreading news, yet neither could she wholly condemn it, for in their world, it was thus that information passed from house to house. Assuredly, the discreet mode she had observed was not the sole means by which the ton communicated; still, there was much to admire in so elegant a proceeding, and it might be helpful to adopt such forms. Their lives, in truth, were not so very different from her own, yet there might be customs worth adopting.
She tried to read, but her principal thought—the prospect of Mr Darcy’s arrival—imposed itself continually. She feared, and at the same time ardently wished, to see him. Would he be gratified to encounter her beneath his aunt’s roof, or would he consider it an unpardonable intrusion? With him, any outcome was possible. She felt no guilt in being there, yet could not predict his manner of receiving her.
By her calculation, his arrival was due in a day or two, but nothing could have prepared her to behold him at breakfast on the third morning of her stay at Matlock House. He rose upon her entrance, and the expression upon his countenance arrested her. It was one she remembered too well from Hunsford—anger mingled with pain. In a rush of shock and dread, her heart seemed to ache within her. The man before her bore little resemblance to the master of Pemberley whom she had met less than a fortnight past. He was furious with her; indeed, she thought he despised her for being there.
Why did I agree to come?her spirit cried within her. She excused herself and hastened from the dining room, resolved to seek her chamber and pack without delay; yet midway up the stairs, she heard Lady Matlock calling her.
“Miss Elizabeth, pray, what has occurred?” her ladyship said, with Mr Darcy beside her. He still held his napkin, but the displeasure upon his face remained. As Elizabeth descended once more, she perceived the dark shadows beneath his eyes—signs of profound fatigue—and, despite his apparent ill-humour, she felt a pang of pity. He must have travelled day and night to arrive in such haste. She tried to draw breath, but it was as though her lungs had forgotten their purpose; she placed a hand upon the balustrade in a desperate attempt to steady herself.
“What has happened, my dear?” Lady Matlock asked again, with genuine kindness.
“Are you angry that I am here?” Elizabeth asked Mr Darcy, no longer caring for the tears that sprang to her eyes, nor for the shock on her ladyship’s face.
“What are you saying? He is not angry with you, Miss Elizabeth. He has spoken warmly of the care you bestowed upon me and of the assistance your family endeavoured to give us. Fitzwilliam,” she commanded, “do not stand there like a simpleton. Tell her!”
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said at last, advancing towards her, “I cannot thank you enough for all the trouble you took… for us.” She curtseyed to conceal her emotions, but when she looked at him again, he was before her, pressing his lips to her hand.Is this reality, or a dream?she asked herself again and again as he led her back to the dining room.
Yet she remained uncertain. There was an unease in the air; he seemed to approve of her presence, yet the tension about him could not be mistaken. Were his concerns directed solely towards the present situation? If so, why that air of restrained vexation? The memory of that dreadful day at the Parsonage rose before her like an icy barrier. Surely he must be feigning civility, merely to avoid embarrassing her before his aunt. He had resolved never to meet her again, and here she was, thrust upon his family against his will.
