Page 29 of Affectations of Candour

“What is it, my friend? Clearly you have something troubling on your mind. Will you not tell me?”

Intent then on picking at a loose thread on the patchwork quilt, Miss Hughes would not meet Elizabeth’s eyes. “Miss Althea asked me some odd questions about you.”

“What kind of questions?”

“She enquired whether you had an excessive fondness for tipple—wine, sherry, sweetened cordials, and whatnot.”

“What! An excessive fondness… For tipple? Good gracious! Why would she…” Calming herself so that she might be capable of forming a sentence, Elizabeth took a breath. “How could Miss Althea even think such a thing?”

Miss Hughes shrugged. “That is what I asked her. Instead of answering, she questioned your integrity.”

“My integrity?” That brought Elizabeth to her feet. “I cannot credit this!”

“Rest assured that I defended you, for you are not only my friend. I look up to you as a shining model of all I wish to be, although I fear that you are inimitable. At any rate, I was not the only one to come to your support, for Miss Darcy also is a staunch admirer. And Miss Althea seemed immensely relieved when we both assured her of your honesty, your strong moral principles, and, um, your sobriety.”

“Well then, truly and soberly, I thank you.” Indeed grateful for both girls’ amity, Elizabeth was determined to henceforth pay special attention to those friendships rather than fruitless hopes of anything more intimate with any particular person at Strandsmere Park.

“Miss Bennet, do you suppose it is wrong for me to be happy and making new friends so soon after the loss of my parents?”

Elizabeth sat on the bed beside Miss Hughes. “What do you suppose your mother and father would prefer—that you mope about in your room, crying and feeling forlorn, or would they want to see you smiling and laughing? I think we both know the answer to that.”

Her friend nodded. “I just wish they were here with me, so I could tell them about all the people I have met, particularly Mr Clark. And about Miss Wright’s scary aria and the feather in my cap and the antics of Hector and Heiress Tottle and the planned— Oh! I just remembered that I have something important for my aunt and uncle.” Loosening her reticule’s drawstrings, she withdrew a letter. “I know what it says, for Mr Darcy told me. It is an invitation for the four of us to attend, in two days’ time and weather-permitting, a picnic at Strandsmere Park. That is to be followed by a boating excursion along the stream, Willow Bourn, that branches off into the wetlands. Mr Darcy has two punts but wants to know whether my uncle has a flat-bottomed boat appropriate for inland waters, which I know he does because— Good gracious! Is that Mrs Poole’s Baumstriezel?”

“It is, indeed.” After removing her own half-eaten piece, Elizabeth handed the plate to her friend.

Miss Hughes thanked her, then took a bite. “I like Baumkuchen well enough, but Baumstriezel has this delicious caramel crust. Perhaps I shall ask Mrs Poole to make some for the picnic. It will be such fun to go boating, though Mr Darcy strongly recommends we ladies bring parasols and wear long sleeves because there could be horseflies or the odd mosquito. Oh, and Miss Darcy says she will bring Hector.”

Elizabeth smiled and admitted to herself that she yearned for the company of the dog and its owner. Most of all, though, she pined for Mr Darcy and the repartee they had enjoyed together.

Meanwhile, Miss Hughes had scarcely stopped talking long enough to take a breath let alone another bite of Baumstriezel. “Mr Ansel, the land steward at Strandsmere, told us that he has seen marsh orchids growing along the stream, peregrine falcons flying above the meadows, swans gliding by, and otters playing on the riverbank. Miss Darcy and Miss Althea are bringing drawing paper to capture scenes that will afterwards be painted with watercolours.” Finally, she took another bite and released a contented sigh. “Mr Darcy has devised a most delightful scheme, has he not? I pray that your fictitious headache may soon be palliated, for you must join us.”

Well, I am not going to miss such an expedition for anyone—not even mosquitoes or Mr Darcy and his future bride! And, after all, how many headaches can one feign? For all I care, Miss Wright and the gentleman may share a boat, make eyes at one another, and exchange mawkish words while I admire nature and pretend I am not at all bothered by their secret engagement.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The same day that he and Elizabeth had discussed the subject of Bingley and her sister, Darcy had written to his friend apologising for his own part in separating him from his lady-love. In the letter he suggested that, if Bingley still felt the same way about her, he should return to Hertfordshire post-haste and woo the dickens out of Miss Jane Bennet. However, any such determined effort to win the lady’s affection must be done without grovelling at her feet, because, when all was said and done, it was of utmost importance that one’s male pride and dignity remain intact.

Before he had written that letter, once everyone had returned to the villa for refreshments, and while he was making an entry in her album amicorum, Darcy had noticed Elizabeth engaging in a tête-à-tête with Miss Wright, although the latter seemed to own the greater share of that conversation. Afterwards, he had become confounded by Elizabeth’s behaviour. She remained friendly enough with others, but towards him her polite yet distant manner had discouraged any continuation of the intimate sort of intercourse in which they had partaken while walking between the clifftop and the house. None knew better than he that a person might appear withdrawn or aloof due to a desire for privacy. Nevertheless, it seemed entirely out of character for such a cordial person as Elizabeth to be unapproachable.

A se’nnight had passed since then, and Darcy still fretted about why she had kept him at arm’s length. More like not wanting to touch me with a pair of tongs! During that time, although Elizabeth’s friend had come to visit, she had not. Miss Hughes had made excuses for her, giving a lingering headache as the reason for her staying away.

He feared that Elizabeth might be disgusted or even cross or, at the very least, disappointed because of his errors of judgment where both of their sisters were concerned. She had every right to be. It had been foolish to keep Georgiana in the dark about Wickham, and it had been wrong to participate in Miss Bingley’s scheme to keep her brother and Miss Bennet apart. In that, Darcy had ventured too far, assumed too much, and made light of what ought to have been serious.

Eager to seize the day, Darcy had awakened early on the morning of the picnic and boating excursion. All four residents of Cliff House had accepted his invitation, and his plan was to use cunning and perseverance to ferret out the truth of Elizabeth’s indifference towards him. He could not countenance having to henceforth meet only as acquaintances rather than the good friends he had assumed they had become.

He, Georgiana, and Mrs Carter had arranged everything in advance, and although Miss Wright had kept offering her assistance and giving unwanted advice, the three of them had assured her that they had matters well in hand. The true purpose in refusing her help was that Darcy had not wanted to give the woman any notion that she might become Strandsmere Park’s mistress. “You are a guest here, madam,” he had told her, “and I shall not have you concerning yourself with our preparations.”

Having kept an eye on the barometer for days, he had remained hopeful as its rising pressure signalled improved weather. Indeed, on that particular morning, the Bristol Channel glistened in bright sunlight, and the thermometer on the outer north-facing wall already indicated a temperature of sixty-nine degrees Fahrenheit. An agreeable south-westerly breeze whispered across the cliff, and he hoped it might be sufficient to keep at bay all manner of winged biting or stinging insects. It would not do for his guests to be attacked on what was to be a pleasurable afternoon.

And so it was that he set about ensuring both of his own punts—and the Cliff House one that had been brought over earlier that morning by Mr Baker’s factotum—were supplied with a copper brazier and aromatic blends of camphor, cedar, and herbs to burn and produce insect-repelling smoke.

He even had Edward, his adolescent groom, fetching things and taking them by gig to the dock. “Ensure that each boat has a sturdy barge pole and a spare.” They are even longer than a pair of tongs, and Elizabeth might need one to not touch me with. “And add some blankets and cushions for the ladies’ comfort. Also, ask a footman to fetch three of the Galilean spyglasses from my study. Tell him they are to be found on a shelf behind my desk. Then you are to carefully place one in each of the boxes you will find on the punts. You will be rewarded for your efforts with additional servings of small beer today and tomorrow. Off you go, then.”

In the meantime, Darcy’s household domestics, under Mrs Carter’s supervision, were busily preparing the food, putting up a canopy, arranging tables and chairs beneath it, and carrying out all the necessary appurtenances for a sumptuous al fresco repast in the villa’s formal garden.

Yes, all is in hand. What can possibly go wrong?

When the Cliff House carriage arrived and deposited its four passengers on the avenue beside the formal garden, Darcy, who stood waiting there, breathed easier. Elizabeth was amongst them. He also was gratified to see that, unlike Miss Wright, the three ladies wore gowns with long sleeves, just as he had recommended.