Elizabeth smiled, though not entirely convinced.
That same evening after dinner, when the gentlemen retired, the duchess invited Mrs Bennet with a gentle gesture to sit beside her upon the sofa. Elizabeth had not expected the matter to begin resolving itself so quickly.
“My dears,” said the duchess kindly, “your uncle wishes you to be received in our society here in London.”
Elizabeth grew still. She knew Mrs Bennet and Lydia too well. Yet both remained properly seated, waiting with evident respect for the old lady to continue.
“As Miss Jane Bennet is already Mrs Bingley, I have an important duty: to see her sisters also married to gentlemen from pre-eminent families.”
It was an excellent beginning. Nothing interested Mrs Bennet more than seeing her daughters married. Their new circumstances had encouraged very ambitious hopes; at times, she even dreamed of a title for one of them. She nodded with great deference.
“Yes, your grace, it is what we all want!”
“Good. Then you must understand that we do not break the rules, because a single misdemeanour committed by one of you may cause all of you to be cut by many families. It is neither just nor pleasant, but it is the manner in which this society functions.”
She paused before continuing. The subject had already presented itself during dinner, when Mrs Bennet had taken every opportunity to mention what they now possessed in Hertfordshire and the fact that her daughters were heiresses.
“Never, dear young ladies, refer in public to what you possess.”
It was a severe beginning, but by directing the remark only towards the younger ladies, she softened the blow. Mrs Bennet blushed and concealed her embarrassment beneath an appearance of acceptance on behalf of her daughters.
“To discuss your fortune, possessions, or dowry in public is much like discussing your most intimate concerns or your relationship with a gentleman. Think of the most private matter you possess, something you would never mention publicly, and then imagine that fortune, possessions, and dowry are even worse.”
Elizabeth expected the lesson to end there, but Mary surprised her by asking, “Your grace, would you give us some examples of subjects we may discuss in public?”
The duchess approved of the question. Without her spectacles and dressed in a becoming gown, Mary was a pleasant companion, and her eagerness to learn was evident.
“That is a very good question. A lady may discuss her rose garden, for instance, to give an impression of her house, but never how much she pays the gardener,” she replied, making everybody laugh. “This is the principal rule. We present beauty, not value. It is also important for any newcomer not to mention a member of society who is absent, whether for praise or criticism. The safest course is to participate in conversation about general subjects, a play you have seen, rather than the people you met at the theatre. In time, you will be received into one circle, perhaps several, and each possesses its own customs. Some delight in gossip, but they will never permit a newcomer to gossip about those already accepted amongst them. Be patient and cautious at the beginning, and I am certain you will do very well. But remember, you will be viewed as a group. If one of you is not accepted, none of you will be.”
Mrs Bennet blushed again. She had arrived in London full of hopes, and suddenly those dreams seemed rather less simple than they had at home. Elizabeth wondered whether her mother would ever be capable of observing such rules or whether, on her first visit, she would become the laughing-stock of London.
“You may become either the darling of the ton or its dupe. My role is to guide you towards a successful entrance into this new society.”
She smiled before adding, “Whenever you are uncertain, come to me with your questions.”
Everything the duchess had said appeared perfectly natural to Elizabeth, but at least two ladies were deeply offended: Mrs Bennet and Lydia.
∞∞∞
“I want to go home. I will never like this society with so many rules,” Mrs Bennet said to Elizabeth that evening before bed. She had come to Elizabeth’s room to express her disappointment.
“It depends, Mama, on what you want. If you wish us to marry here in London, we—and I mean all of us—must follow the rules.”
“There are nice gentlemen in Hertfordshire.”
“Perhaps, but remember that the only one of us who is married has a husband from London. We don’t have much chance in Hertfordshire, at least not all four of us. You may talk freely amongst the family, with Aunt Gardiner, or at home with your old friends—”
“And remain silent in public whilst in London,” Mrs Bennet said bitterly, from the depths of her dissatisfaction.
“Yes, at least for a while, until people come to see us as a pleasant and interesting family whom they may trust to include in their circles.”
Elizabeth knew they were far from obtaining Mrs Bennet’s acceptance, and Lydia would almost certainly commit a blunder or two; even Mary might bore society with her insipid observations. Still, she hoped that each of them would keep the duchess’s first lesson in mind.
But all at once, as she looked around that beautiful room, something curious happened. Her worries vanished as though carried away by the wind, and in their place she found peace of mind. Every object in the room increased her affection for the house: the delicate china vase filled with white roses; the two paintings showing the same landscape at dawn and atsunset; the four-poster bed seemingly prepared for a princess. Everything was elegant and marked by exquisite taste. She intended to like the house and the duchess and to profit from everything her grace wished to teach them. She had no desire to spend her life in London, but what the duchess taught could be useful wherever one lived. She loved her mother dearly and knew that Mrs Bennet did not wish to endanger her daughters’ future through tactless remarks. The duchess wanted to teach them, to show them how to temper their impulses and avoid harmful prejudices.
Approaching the window to admire the beautiful night, Elizabeth discovered the garden illuminated by torches. She wondered whether they had been lit in honour of their arrival or whether London appeared thus on every summer evening. Lost in contemplation, she opened the window and noticed a figure pacing in the garden. The sound from the window caused him, for it was a gentleman, to look in her direction. Her first impulse was to retreat into the room, but the beauty of the night persuaded her otherwise, and she stepped onto the small stone balcony.
As the gentleman stopped, she recognised Mr Kendall. He stood motionless, watching her with a steadiness that bordered upon insolence, yet the night softened everything. He was too far away for her to distinguish the details of his face, but his stillness spoke more eloquently than a thousand glances. Struck by her presence, he made no effort to conceal his admiration. There were few stars visible in the London sky, but from time to time the almost full moon appeared from behind the clouds, lending the entire scene a dreamlike quality.
