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The next morning, Lizzy went downstairs and joined her aunt and sister in the breakfast room. The sideboard was set out with a variety of delights. Toasted muffins, raspberry jam, boiled eggs, and plum cake were amongst the offerings. She poured herself a cup of chocolate, the sweet aroma wakening her appetite.
It was their at-home day, so they took their morning meal a little earlier than usual. With Jane engaged to Bingley, they would have fewer gentlemen callers. But the ladies of the ton would come to offer their best wishes.
They moved into the drawing room to await their visitors. Jane exclaimed at the new bouquets. Lizzy enjoyed their beauty, but had otherwise become inured to them.
The ton had declared Lizzy an original. Some men, it seemed, were attracted to that appellation. Their butlers sent her flowers of a morning, and they danced attendance on her for a quarter hour out of their day. It was sheer gallantry, without any substance to it. She did not expect an offer from any of them.
A vase of red roses, however, drew her eye. The colour was unexpectedly rich, almost black at the edges. The texture had the look of velvet.
She expected that the flowers were for Jane from Bingley, but she checked the card anyway. Her lips parted when she saw it was addressed to her.
Thank you for the book of poetry. Georgiana cannot put it down.
Yours &c.
Darcy
Lizzy stared at the message, written in a clear, firm hand. She did not mind his terseness. It was what she expected of him. Still, she did not know what to make of the gesture. Had he truly sent this bouquet to thank her for a kindness towards his sister?
Did he not realize the book had been meant for him? Or was this a way of communicating something more? Something a single gentleman could not say directly to a single lady?
Her pulse quickened. The bouquet itself was not extravagant, but...red roses. She leaned in and breathed their sweet scent. Did Darcy understand what they signified? Lightning shot up her spine at the thought of it.
Despite appearances, she warned herself not to read too much into it. She would not contemplate the possibility that Darcy was in love with her. She paced to distract herself, to burn up the excitement pulsing through her muscles.
Her musings were interrupted by the arrival of Greymore, Cressida, and their mother. Greymore was attentive as usual, but she felt no spark with him. The only man on her mind was Darcy.
Lizzy turned her attention to their female visitors. “Lady Greymore, I must compliment your cook. The supper at your ball was the best I have had since coming to London.”
“Thank you, my dear,” she said fretfully. “We put so much planning into that evening. Everything went well, I thought, until poor Arabella...”
She broke off at that, her eyes glistening and her lips trembling. “Greymore tried to protect me from the worst of it, but—oh! I wish I had never thrown that ball. Every time I think of it, I get such flutterings in my heart. Thank heavens, dear Miss Elizabeth, you saved her from that scoundrel. Otherwise, I would be confined to my bed with the horror of it.”
Lizzy bit back a smile, regarding the older woman with surprising fondness. Lady Greymore seemed like a more cultured version of her own mother. Mrs. Bennet had been weighed down by five daughters and an entailed property. Without those worries, she might have been a different person.
Now that Jane’s engagement had lessened that burden, would her mother’s anxiety ease? Would she grow more graceful over time? It must be exhausting, seeking husbands for her girls. Constantly inserting herself into the concerns of others. She would likely appreciate a respite.
After the requisite half hour, the Greymore family took their leave. They were soon followed by the arrival of the Countess of Matlock. With her were two noblewomen, each between forty and fifty, whom Lizzy had not yet met. They were the picture of fashion. Their perfectly tailored walking dresses were decorated with ruffles and bows.
Lizzy felt small and insignificant by comparison. Yet she forced herself to hold her head high. Lady Carson and Lady Featherstone seemed happy to meet the Bennet sisters. Lizzy suspected their attitude resulted from their respect for Lady Matlock.
Were the other women close friends of hers? Or were they simply influential women the Bennets ought to meet? Lady Matlock was a master of diplomacy, a seasoned political wife. She understood the value of connections, even where no personal attachment existed.
The visitors had been there about ten minutes when a commotion was heard in the hallway. “My trunks are in the carriage,” a familiar female voice said. “Have the housekeeper ready a room for me. I am staying indefinitely. Now where are my dear Jane and Lizzy?”
The Bennet sisters’ eyes met. Jane appeared as surprised as Lizzy, who then turned to her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner sat frozen a moment, then rose to her feet.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Matlock, Lady Carson, Lady Featherstone. My sister Mrs. Bennett has arrived...earlier than anticipated.” Before she reached the door, however, the unexpected guest glided into the room.
“Oh, sister!” Mrs. Bennet greeted. She was wearing her best day dress, a striped silk of coral and brown. “I have come to relieve you from chaperoning my daughters. What a lovely house this is! Your friend Lady Purcell must have a pretty penny. A pretty penny! And there is my dear Jane. Come and give your mama a kiss.”
Jane rose obediently and kissed her mother’s cheek. Lizzy, gathering her wits, followed suit. Her mother’s rosewater fragrance transported Lizzy back to Longbourn. To the comfortable feeling of home. But that sensation was all wrong now, in this place where a single false step could wreck her future.
Mrs. Gardiner made the introductions whilst Lizzy held her breath. She prayed her mother would not say anything foolish. To her surprise, her mother was all graciousness, without being obsequious.
“What a pleasure to meet you all,” Mrs. Bennet said. “Lady Featherstone, I quite admire that gown. I have heard that longer sleeves are the fashion now in London.”
“The modistes must make their money somehow,” Lady Featherstone quipped. “If they did not lengthen or shorten the sleeves or hemlines, we could wear last years’ fashions. No one would be the wiser.”
“Heavens, Amelia,” Lady Carson objected. “I have known you twenty years, and have not seen you wear the same gown twice.”
“I admit,” her friend said, “clothes are my vice. Featherstone scolds me to no end on that score.”
Behind a plastered smile, Lizzy gritted her teeth. She wished the small talk would end. The longer the conversation lasted, the greater the chance her mother would make a faux pas. “Mama,” she said gently, “you must be tired after your journey. I am sure our guests would understand if you wished to rest—”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Bennet said, looking darkly at her. “I would not dream of abandoning our guests.”
Our guests, she said, Lizzy noted, as if her mother was now lady of the house.
“Did you have a long journey?” Lady Carson asked.
Mrs. Bennet waved her hand. “It is an easy distance, just one change of horses. I travelled with my friend Mrs. Long, who has come to see her nieces. They are staying with her cousin, Baroness Manley. You know the baroness, of course. Everyone who is anyone does.”
Lizzy cringed at her mother’s airs. The room grew silent. Judging from their guests’ faces, they did not know the lady in question. Lizzy had not heard the name mentioned at a ton event. She might live mostly in the country, and had come to town only to sponsor her young cousins.
The crack in her mother’s thin veneer of gentility soon spread. Lizzy felt as if she were sinking into a cold lake, a layer of ice freezing over her. What had her mother been thinking, arriving unannounced? All hope of making a good impression on Lady Matlock’s friends was now lost. Lizzy could imagine the gossip.
Thank goodness Bingley had already made an offer and could not back out now. Not that he would. He had never been put off by their mother as Darcy had.
At the thought, Lizzy’s chest tightened. Things had been improving between her and Darcy, but now...
Could anything more than friendship exist between them? Perhaps she was a fool to think so. If he did not share her feelings, how could she hope to get over him?
Once Jane and Bingley were married, Lizzy and Darcy might frequently be in each other’s company. He had hinted that he would marry soon, for Georgiana’s sake. And it was right to do so. Georgiana would show more confidence at her come-out if she had a sister guiding her.
The prospect cut like a rapier into Lizzy’s chest. She had not realized until that moment how much she had wanted that role. Darcy’s wife, Georgiana’s sister—that was who she longed to be. Seeing her mother again might drive any amorous intentions out of Darcy’s heart.
She pushed the disloyal thought from her mind. If Darcy could not endure Mrs. Bennet, then he was not a husband worth having. She could not live with a man who made her feel ashamed of her family.
Pushing aside her musings, she forced herself to keep her wits about her. Aunt Gardiner would need help steering the conversation. Jane was too distracted since her engagement to be of much use—in this or any other capacity.
It spoke well of Lady Matlock and her friends that they did their best to put Mrs. Bennet at ease. “Do you have any other daughters at home?” Lady Carson asked. Pleasantly plump and dressed in yellow, she looked like a grapefruit. But as her husband was a crony of the Duke of Devonshire, she might be one of the most powerful women in England.
“I have five daughters,” Mrs. Bennet said. “The youngest three are at home in Hertfordshire. Jane is the first betrothed, as she ought to be, since she is the eldest. Now that we have made this alliance with Mr. Bingley, my other daughters will be thrown into the way of other rich men. I expect Lizzy will be next. Though I confess she would have been married by now, if only she did not think herself too high for her cousin. Mr. Collins is rector at Hunsford. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is his patroness. But now he is married to our neighbour, Miss Charlotte Lucas that was. More’s the pity.”
“Charlotte tells me,” Lizzy cut in, “that she is comfortably settled into her role as a rector’s wife. I could not be more pleased for her.” The lie rolled off her tongue so easily it surprised even herself. Such was testimony to her desperation. “She makes Mr. Collins happier than I ever could.” That much, at least, was true.
“Well, Mrs. Bennet,” Lady Featherstone said, a kind smile on her face. “I daresay Miss Elizabeth will make a fine match soon. You will forget about her rector cousin.”
“Are you aware, Mama,” Jane said, “that Lady Matlock is sister by marriage to Lady Catherine de Bourgh?”
“Is that so, ma’am,” Mrs. Bennet remarked, turning to the countess. “I have heard wonderful things about her grand manor house at Rosings Park. Is it true that the fireplace alone cost eight hundred pounds?”
Lady Matlock blinked twice and said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I confess I cannot say.”
Lizzy wanted to sink through the red-cherry floorboards. After that horrifying exchange, she could not relax for a moment. It was nerve-wracking enough to be entertaining two countesses and a marchioness. How could she carry on an intelligent conversation? She would be preoccupied with guarding against her mother’s missteps.
The visitors took their leave so Mrs. Bennet could settle in. Lizzy took Jane aside. “We must convince Mama to return to Longbourn.”
Jane looked at her in confusion. “But Lizzy, think what a relief this must be to aunt Gardiner. If Lady Purcell does not object, aunt Gardiner can return home to her family, while we stay on with Mama.”
Lizzy’s spirits sank. She could not argue with Jane’s point. Of course Mrs. Gardiner longed to be home with her husband and children again.
What was left of Lizzy’s hopes fell into despair. She had been so enjoying the season with their aunt as chaperone. Now, she half wished she could hide in the country until Jane’s wedding.
But of course that would not do. At a minimum, the wedding clothes would need to be purchased. They would have to remain in town at least another week, possibly two. But Jane might wish to stay longer. Indeed, why should she not?
The thought struck Lizzy that there was no reason for her to stay, however. Her father would be eager to have her home, now that he was alone with her youngest sisters. Poor Papa!
She had entertained the hope of finding a husband from amongst the ton. But with her mother as chaperone, she would soon become a laughing stock. She could not endure that. Better to leave at the height of her popularity than to stay and watch it plummet.
Lent was approaching. The balls would stop then, until after Easter. Parliament would go into recess, and many families would return to their country estates.
Amidst the noise of her mother’s demands to the servants, Lizzy secreted herself in her room. Silently, she contemplated her next steps. Standing at the window, she watched the grey, sooty clouds amass above the city.
Sadness washed over her. She could picture the scorn in Darcy’s eyes when he saw her mother again. Leaving London was not what Lizzy wanted, but the humiliation of staying would be worse.
***
LIZZY SAT IN THE MODISTE’S shop jumping out of her skin. After four hours of looking at fabrics and patterns, she had reached her limit. Jane’s patience seemed to have no end, but Lizzy lacked her sister’s gentle nature.
“Mama,” Jane said, “I believe we have ordered enough night rails. And this fabric is so sheer—”
“My dear, I have been married to your father for twenty-five years. I know better than you do what a man prefers in his wife’s night rails.”
Lizzy’s stomach rolled. The image conjured by her mother’s words made her want to wash out her eyes with lye. Jane seemed shocked into silence.
“Mama,” Lizzy spoke up, “would my father approve of all these purchases?”
“Jane is marrying a wealthy man. We cannot skimp on her wedding clothes.”
Lizzy took a deep breath and blew out a thin stream of air. Her mother’s extravagance was beyond anything Lizzy had seen. For all her mother’s faults, she knew how to economize. She must be using up the clothing budget for all her daughters for the next year.
While the modiste showed Jane the selection of bridal bonnets, Lizzy spoke to her mother in low tones. “I know Jane’s wedding is an important event for our family. I do not begrudge her the expense. But have you tallied up the cost of all this? London modistes are more expensive than the shops in Hertfordshire. Are you quite certain my father can afford this?”
Her mother did not turn to her. She looked straight ahead, watching Jane. “It matters not whether your father can afford it. It matters only that Bingley can afford it.”
Lizzy furrowed her brows. “But Bingley is not the one who will be paying—”
A gasp escaped her, cutting off her words. Surely her mother did not mean...even she was not capable of...
“Mama, please tell me you are not expecting Mr. Bingley to pay for Jane’s wedding clothes!”
“I do not see why not. They will be married by summer. If we economize, he will only have to buy her more clothes later.”
Lizzy’s head spun. Her mother’s logic was not wrong, but it simply was not done. A man did not pay for the clothes of a woman who was not a family member, unless she was his mistress. Expecting Bingley to pay was unseemly.
“Has he agreed to this?”
“It is not the sort of subject for a lady to discuss with a gentleman.”
“Then has Papa discussed it with him?” As if that would be better!
“I see no reason for your father to be involved. When Mr. Bingley receives the bill, he will gladly pay.”
Lizzy clutched her reticule, running her fingers over the blue beadwork. How could she make her mother understand how improper this was? “You are having the bill sent to him without warning?”
Her mother turned, her features pinched. “I have had enough of this inquisition, Miss Lizzy. I shall not have my judgement challenged by a girl who knows nothing of the world.”
Lizzy said no more. It would be pointless, anyway. Should she tell Jane? Her sister would be horrified. Neither of them could warn Bingley, after all. Lizzy considered writing to her father. But by the time any correspondence was received from him on the matter, it would be too late.
Oh, how Lizzy missed her aunt! Lady Purcell had given her blessing for Mrs. Gardiner to return home to Cheapside. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters could stay on in the Berkeley Square house. Without aunt Gardiner to act as a buffer, Mrs. Bennet had free rein. Her daughters had no choice but to go along with her dictates, however foolish they might be.