To Teach the Admiring Multitude

by Eleanor Wilton

  “Hence your love of solitary walks?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “It seems we shall give one another what we each most require. You, a little less company and I a little less solitude.”

  “Perfect companionship,” she replied happily, reaching forward and caressing his cheek before rising again to continue her inspection.

  Elizabeth approached the bookshelves and ran her hand across the bindings. On the following day she was to go to the dressmaker to augment her wardrobe. New dresses had been made before her wedding, as a start, but there was certainly more required that would be adequate to the increased obligations and entertainments she would have as Mrs. Darcy. The need gave her no pause. She had every desire to present herself in society in a manner that would be a credit to both herself and her husband. She possessed no false modesty. As she ran her hands across the rows of books, her concern was more complicated and of greater consequence: the improvement of her mind. The perusal of his library, which she knew to be nothing to the library at Pemberley, opened her eyes to what she could only reluctantly consider her deficiencies of education.

  “If you were to recommend me one book from these shelves, which should it be?” she inquired to Darcy.

  “That would depend upon the purpose of the book.”

  “The improvement of my mind. I begin to think myself less prepared than I ought to be.”

  “Whatever can you mean?” he asked, rising and coming to her side.

  “I begin to think myself insufficiently prepared to be Mrs. Darcy.” She spoke in a jesting, humorous tone, but her concern was sincere.

  “Elizabeth?” he intoned with genuine surprise, for he did not comprehend from whence came this uncharacteristic diffidence.

  She began to play nervously with the buttons of his waistcoat. “At Longbourn, when we were engaged, I was surrounded by friends and neighbours who have known me all my life and must wish me well. Here we have only each other to please. The multitudes are not so easily pleased. When I go out into the world as Mrs. Darcy I do not wish to disappoint.”

  “The multitudes are hardly exemplary for discernment,” he declared disdainfully. “Such arbitrary opinions are not worth considering. When Lady Catherine went to you at Longbourn did you not assert that you would not be guided by the possible indignation of relations or the world at large should you become my wife? Pray explain.”

  “I did indeed so assert. Yet now I am your wife and recognize myself the most fortunate of women to have you for my husband, I would hope for your friends and relations to not only wish you happiness, but dare I say, to join in your happiness? I am not so selfish to accept my own happiness be achieved at the expense of your comfort or credit.”

  “Excepting my sister Georgiana, you cannot truly imagine that I care for the approbation of a single person. I am the fortunate one. That you should entertain such concerns on my behalf, however unwarranted, simply confirms that it is so. I can think of many who in your situation would not be so troubled. Elizabeth,” he continued, bringing her close into his embrace. “I would not have you be anything other than as you are. Did not you yourself attest that I loved you for being so different from all the rest with their artful insincerity? Your charm and vitality are precious, uniquely yours. We can certainly all study to improve our minds, and ought to do so, but do not, I beg of you, do not be other than as you are. We would neither of us be happy, I am sure.”

  “How convenient for me that you should always have such reason-able answers to give. Therefore it is settled, I require no improvement; I am delightful just as I am.”

  “Indeed you are,” he replied warmly.

  Nevertheless, Elizabeth silently resolved that she would seek counsel of her Aunt Gardiner whose good judgement and natural refinement had long served as criteria and model for her own. Elizabeth was now powerfully aware that she had much to learn.

  Chapter 4

  Richmond House

  The Earl of Richmond, a tall, stout man with more than a few vestiges of a handsome countenance, hesitated a moment before opening the letter just delivered into his hands by his butler. He was not sure what to anticipate and found he did not welcome the prospect of a taciturn civility to equal his own recently displayed aptitude for the same. Said hesitation was brief and he opened the communication with a sudden impatient eagerness. It took only a moment to read, for it was a brief piece of correspondence. Once completed he shook his head and handed it across the table to his wife with solemnity.

  “Pray, read this letter, Eleanor, it is from our nephew, Darcy.”

  Lady Richmond extended her richly bejewelled arm across the table and took the paper into her slightly aged hand. “From Darcy? I would not have expected him to be inclined to write so soon after his wedding. Perhaps he is not as agreeably engaged with his new wife as anticipated,” she replied mordantly. “Are they not happily ensconced at Pemberley?”

  “I am not satisfied we have done well by him.”

  “Everything has been done as it ought, my dear. We could hardly have been expected to travel into Hertfordshire for such a minor affair, and with your health barely restored. Whatever the familial relationship may be, his bride’s entire lack of consequence could hardly justify such an abandonment of our customs. An express with our congratulations was delivered at the very moment the wedding breakfast would have been commencing. No doubt the entire assembled company was immediately aware of the compliment we thereby paid his bride. It was as good as our presence. What is more, Henry escorted Georgiana to and from the wedding. Such an attention could not go unnoticed. We have been entirely correct and entirely forbearing.”

  “We had no alternative but to be forbearing. It is not as though we had any authority regarding the person he should marry.”

  “Perhaps no authority, but that does not impede that we should be disconcerted regarding the surprising choice he has made. I do not know what further consideration we ought to have bestowed. Certainly we did not receive his news with warmth, but he cannot fault our final civility.”

  The Earl waved his hand tiredly. He had no delusions as regards both the virtues and deficiencies of his wife’s character and could merely be resigned to the unfortunate truth that Lady Richmond’s one satisfaction in this entire business of their nephew’s singular marriage was the consternation it caused in her sister-in-law, Lady Catherine, with whom she had never got on. He sighed loudly, wearily. His health had been most irregular of late and between his sons and his nephew, he was finding too many sources of uneasiness and vexation. If only they were all more like his daughter Edith all would be well. “Pray, read on and tell me your thoughts.”

  Lady Richmond opened the letter expecting a sort of humble rapprochement now that the marriage had been confirmed.

  Portman Square, London

  My dear uncle, I hope this letter finds both you and my esteemed aunt in excellent health and that the weather so typical at such time of year has not been adverse to the recent restoration of your strength.

  My wife and I wish to thank you for the congratulations you made arrive on the morning of our wedding. Given what we have received from other quarters I cannot adequately express my gratification to find that you have not sustained the unjust and presumptuous censure of our union we continue to suffer from others.

  Sir, I unreservedly confess the happiness I have found in my newly married state, certain that no man could claim a wife more lovely or more charming than my own. Mrs. Darcy is a truly superior woman, as you shall, I trust, soon have occasion to attest. I remain eager for an opportunity to introduce her to you and to my aunt, as is she to be so honoured by your indulgence.

  We stay in town only a few days before travelling on to Pemberley where we will remain beyond the Christmas season.

  Yours, etc., Darcy

  Lady Richmond put down the letter and smiled. Therein was plainly no humble plea for rapprochement. Indeed, he was instead most delicately calling them to attention. She fou
nd she was more amused than not, for if one is to defy all the expectations of friends and family it ought to be done with spirit.

  “They are in town. Shall we have them to dine?” the Earl inquired.

  “It would appear the time is propitious to do so. Nothing will be served by prolonging the disagreement. The young lady is now Mrs. Darcy. If only for the sake of Georgiana, we must abide her company. I acknowledge that I am curious to know the young lady who has made Darcy so bold in actions and relatively effusive in words.”

  “I am pleased we are in agreement, Eleanor. Whilst I was certainly opposed to this marriage—her situation is so shockingly inferior to his own—we must hope that she is not all that my sister has proclaimed. Darcy is not a man to lose his senses absolutely and I prefer now to trust our son’s assertion that the young lady is in all manner a gentlewoman.”

  “Let us hope Henry’s judgement is unbiased, although his attachment to Darcy has indubitably prejudiced his assessment strongly in favour of the young lady. As for Darcy, I suspect he has lost a great deal more of his reason than you suppose. To have made such an unfortunate alliance is still too much to comprehend.”

  She picked up the letter anew and perused the few phrases in which her nephew spoke of his wife—so banal and yet so suffused with honest admiration. She laughed softly, elegantly. “Who should have ever thought that our dear nephew, so correct as he has always been, so reserved as he has grown, to be so overcome with passion as to make a love match with a penniless girl with no meaningful connections to speak of. She cannot be ordinary. If she is even half the cunning, scheming young woman that Lady Catherine has marked her to be I may choose her as my special favourite this season, if only to vex your sister.”

  With a grimace the Earl called for his secretary and ordered that word be sent to his nephew. Consequently, it was not much time passed that Mr. Darcy shared the following communication with his wife.

  Grosvenor Square, London

  The Earl of Richmond presents his compliments and requests that Mr. and Mrs. Darcy join Lady Richmond’s dinner party on this forthcoming Thursday evening. Kindly advise by return post if there will be any inconvenience to the same.

  Yours etc., Thomas Pickering, Esq.

  Elizabeth read the brief missive and smiled archly as she returned it to her husband. “Does your uncle always communicate through his secretary?” she inquired.

  Looking momentarily puzzled, Darcy responded evenly, “It is generally his habit to do so, excepting on very particular occasions.”

  “Oh!” was all the reply she made, and Darcy thought it best to not pursue with any dedication the meaning behind such a provocative exclamation.

  “You are pleased with the invitation, are you not?”

  “Naturally. I shall wear one of my elegant new gowns and Evans will arrange my hair in a manner none at Longbourn could have ever equalled. I shall look exceedingly handsome. All the fine personages who make my acquaintance on Thursday evening will be required to acknowledge that whilst your choice of wife was certainly unexpected, it was not altogether inexplicable.”

  Darcy stepped forward and embraced her. “They will adore you,” he declared with an unusually ingenuous enthusiasm. “Just as I do.”

  Elizabeth rested her hands upon his breast; she tilted her head, smiled as she looked up into his face, delighting in the unreservedly open affection that softened his expression when he held her in his arms. Slipping her arms up and around his neck, she replied at last in a soft and playful tone. “Perhaps not just as you do.”

  “Eliza,” he whispered, and they were immediately too distracted by those warm attentions with which the newly wed are so frequently distracted to give more thought to the Earl and his grand Lady. The grand Lady, however, had them very much top of her mind.

  Chapter 5

  The Colonel’s Defence

  Lady Richmond sat in the quiet solitude of her sitting room and examined her conscience. When Darcy’s message arrived her husband had declared that he feared they had not done well by him. She had brushed aside the concern. She certainly possessed her fair portion of faults, but lack of civility was not among them. Nevertheless, she questioned now if she had lacked kindness. They might have had Miss Bennet into town easily enough during the season of courtship, but they had objected too strongly to the engagement for such a courtesy to be contemplated. Yet—knowing they would surely pass through town immediately after the wedding en route to Pemberley—it was perhaps unaccountable that they had not offered the invitation to dine without requiring Darcy to so delicately remind them what was her due as his wife, to say nothing of the basic consideration that he himself so manifestly deserved.

  She rose and retrieved the letter Darcy had sent on the occasion of his engagement. She read it anew.

  Netherfield Hall, Hertfordshire

  My dear uncle and aunt, I write with news that will undoubtedly surprise, but which is of the happiest. I am engaged to be married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn Manor in Hertfordshire. I first made the acquaintance of Miss Bennet a twelfth month ago whilst staying at Netherfield Hall with my friend Charles Bingley; just this week she has made me the most fortunate of men by consenting to become my wife.

  I am eager for an opportunity to introduce her to you and only await your indication as to when that may be convenient; your son made her acquaintance when we were all in Kent at Easter. I have every confidence you will be delighted by her intelligence, her vivacity and her amiability. She is a woman of exceptional character—loyal, honourable and courageous. I consider myself a truly fortunate man to count her as my future companion in life, and having witnessed for myself her devotion to her own sisters, I am certain she will prove the sympathetic sister Georgiana has long desired.

  I have communicated my engagement to Lady Catherine and anticipate that she will express her disapprobation with the forthrightness that characterizes her, but trust that reason and affection will soften her disappointment. Her proffered wishes apart, I have long asserted that I was without obligation and at liberty to seek my own wife; having now done so I hope to be in receipt of your sincere good wishes.

  Yours etc., Darcy

  Closing the letter, Lady Richmond felt belatedly ashamed of her hard heartedness. She recalled the exquisite kindness and delicacy Darcy had shown when her dear daughter Alice had died so unexpectedly three years past. Dear, dear Alice, who had been the bright centre of their lives. How he had borne them all up, so utterly distraught were they by her sudden, unfathomable death in the very bloom of her youth and vigour. Yet when he had come to them with a wish for no more than sympathy, how arrogantly had they dismissed his news, how cruelly—all but Henry. Indeed, Henry had defended his cousin whilst they had all scoffed and disdained Darcy’s news as an abasement, a disgrace for himself and the family.

  It so happened that Colonel Fitzwilliam had found himself in town on business for his general at the time of the engagement. He had joined his parents and his elder brother, Edward, the Viscount Highpointe, shortly after the news had been received at Grosvenor Square. He himself had received a letter from Darcy in which his cousin expressed himself with such genuine and unadorned happiness that he could not be anything but sympathetic to the future marriage.

  “You arrive at just the right moment, brother,” Edward had remarked with his customary air of contemptuousness as his brother arrived tardy for dinner. “We are discussing Darcy.”

  “Oh?” the Colonel responded evasively as he took a seat and indicated to the servant to fill his glass with wine.

  The Earl began an inquisition in a voice as markedly displeased as his eldest son’s was markedly contemptuous. “As you and Darcy are so intimate, Henry, perhaps you could explain what he is thinking with this extraordinary engagement he has announced.”

  “Thinking, sir? Why nothing at all but that he is to be married.”

  “Do not pretend such stupidity, son.”

  “Sir, I am not sensible to wha
t further explanation you desire.”

  Edward interjected with his habitual acerbity. “Father, an explanation is hardly required. At long last some clever beauty has succeeded in bewitching Darcy. Not so remarkable when you come to think of it; a gentleman cannot go on forever as unyieldingly measured as he has long been. After Miss Morris played him falsely, he has been meticulously correct and determinedly, wilfully reserved. I know few gentlemen who have been so severe in their private conduct. Although I confess I would not have expected the successful lady to be a common fortune hunter utterly beneath him. He has long been so distrustful of women in general he appeared to be quite safe from the arriviste.”

  “Hitherto Darcy has been wise enough to be distrustful of people in general,” the Earl replied. “As well it should be. When one is of a certain station and in possession of so splendid a fortune the only wise course is to be dubious of the intentions of others. The avaricious and the dissolute are always looking to abuse of one’s purse or influence. It is preferable to remain within one’s own circle to avoid such clever, ambitious people as this Miss Bennet must surely be.”

  “If you all wish to speak ill of Darcy’s intended, I will not join you,” Colonel Fitzwilliam vowed.

  “You always take Darcy’s point of thinking,” Lady Richmond replied in irritation and jealousy.

  “Only when I think him correct and reasonable.”

  The Earl dropped his heavy silver fork onto the china plate that held his half-consumed partridge, resulting in a resounding clatter that would have startled the gathered family if they were not all accustomed to such occasional abruptness. His rich baritone voice boomed through the smartly decorated room in all its potency, its very sweetness of timbre belying the fury of his words and emotions. “What can possibly be considered reasonable and correct about this abomination of an engagement? Slighting his cousin Anne, going against the wishes of his entire family and promising himself in matrimony to some unknown, obscure country girl.”