Yet Elizabeth found herself wondering whether friendship entirely explained the matter. For the first time, she considered that she and her sisters had always thought of Mr and Mrs Bennet only as parents, not as a man and woman who had once been young and in love. The discovery gave her a different perspective. However many children she might one day have, she hoped always to remain a woman to her husband as well. She wanted to know more about them, but Uncle Thomas seemed determined to discover the source of that trace of guilt which had crossed her face.
“You have a great talent for escaping questions you do not wish to answer. When we left Hertfordshire, I thought you were very close to making up your mind. Now we are in London, and suddenly there is no hurry at all.”
Again, a shadow crossed her face. Uncle Thomas had seen right: she still had some doubts regarding Mr Darcy despite the feelings she could not deny.
“You like Mr Darcy!” she accused, watching Thomas burst into laughter.
“My dear, it is not I who must like him, but you. And it must be love, not merely liking.”
“I have made no decision. I need more time.”
The astonishment visible upon her uncle’s face made her uncomfortable.
“It is not that I am unreliable. I know very well how Henrietta broke your heart,” she said, blushing again before hastily correcting herself. “Her grace.”
“When we are alone, you may call her Henrietta. That is who she remains to me, the girl who lived near Luton.”
“Thank you. I like calling her Henrietta, as you do.”
“And I like hearing her name. It makes me feel that we are still young and have our whole lives before us. But you are not in Henrietta’s position. Our story was entirely different. You never promised anything to Mr Darcy. Quite the opposite. You refused him. But to answer your reproach, yes, I do like him.”
“And any other gentleman who might court me begins at a disadvantage?”
Again, Thomas laughed.
“My dear, you make it sound as though the road to your heart were a camel race!”
“It is not!” Elizabeth protested.
Yet her tone, slightly too vehement, suggested otherwise. London was proving far more interesting than she cared to admit, and meeting new people had become one of its greatest attractions.
“I am on your side, whatever happens. But you may be certain that I shall remain vigilant and will not allow an unworthy gentleman to steal your heart.”
His open declaration that he intended to interfere in her affairs left Elizabeth uncertain whether to rebel or submit. In some ways, he was reliving his youth, and perhaps he was right to be cautious. Yet she was not Henrietta. She had no attachment to remain faithful to and was entirely free to choose. For the moment, however, she still could not find within herself the overwhelming certainty she had witnessed in Jane and Mr Bingley. Mr Darcy exercised a powerful influence over her. In his presence, she felt more alive than she had ever felt before. Yet until now, he remained the only gentleman who had truly interested her.
“Do you enjoy Mr Kendall’s company?” Thomas asked.
And this time it was Elizabeth who laughed.
“You are worse than Aunt Gardiner, always wanting to discover my little secrets! I had no idea men could gossip with such enthusiasm.”
“I am a man who enjoys every variety of conversation, and ladies’ secrets are my particular favourite,” he replied, leaving her to prepare for dinner.
Chapter 21
For the first time since the Bennets’ arrival in London, Mr and Mrs Gardiner were their guests for dinner, and the conversation was even more lively than usual. The young ladies, for once, forgot the strict rules governing their manners. In the general delight and cheerfulness, everyone spoke at once, repeating the same stories about Madame Clotilde and the family they had met: Lord and Lady Wimborne, together with their son and grandson.
“The young Lady Wimborne died only a year ago, a terrible tragedy,” the duchess told them, and everybody around the table fell silent. “They are one of the nicest families in London, and I am sure we shall receive a dinner invitation from them very soon. But do not let me grieve you with such a story. Let us speak of our plans for tomorrow.”
“The theatre!” Mary said, already more confident after her conversation with the duchess on the journey back from the dressmaker’s.
“Yes,” Thomas replied, “we are going to the Haymarket Theatre, as it is the only theatre with a royal patent to performduring the summer season. We are fortunate, as the other patented theatres are closed.”
“There are only two theatres licensed to perform plays during the winter: the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, and the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden,” Mary added so quickly that the duchess gently signalled for moderation. She was so amiable and polite that no one felt embarrassed when she corrected a minor mistake.
“My dear,” she said, “you are well informed, and you read extensively, but try to express your thoughts more delicately. You do not present your knowledge as though it were a declaration of war. Rather, you invite others to listen. Your tone must be gentle and your voice soft when you say, ‘I think there are only two theatres which possess a royal patent to perform during the season,’ and then you stop. You allow others to respond, and only if they appear interested do you continue. It may even happen that another person completes your remark. That is how a pleasant conversation works. Or you may ask, ‘Is it true that only…?’”
Mary’s astonishment was so great that she forgot to eat. Yet the duchess had spoken with such ease and kindness that nobody at the table felt embarrassed by the correction. Elizabeth, seated beside her, gently touched her hand to draw her attention back to the table.
