To Teach the Admiring Multitude

by Eleanor Wilton

  Darcy smiled in response to his cousin. “My dear Edith, it is not you or I who must live with Lady Patience. If Edward is satisfied, I am certainly not called upon to opine.”

  “There was a time you were apt to opine with some firmness on such matters. But that was before you became such a surprisingly rebellious gentleman.”

  Before Mr. Darcy could respond, Mr. Norbury entered the room. A large, bald headed man who was many years older than his wife, he was well dressed and in possession of a keen, inquisitive gaze. Darcy and Mr. Norbury greeted each other warmly and Elizabeth was unhappy to discover that though he spoke of the Norburys infrequently he evidently found their company quite congenial. In her husband’s tone and conversation she saw as well that they encouraged those parts of his nature she found least agreeable and it was reason enough for her to dislike them both. Indeed, she was so entirely displeased that she sat as quietly as Georgiana; she recognized that she was making no great impression on the formidable cousin and that Lady Richmond looked at her with concern and disappointment, but she was in possession of some stubborn independence and could not be troubled to mend her efforts.

  At last Edward arrived with his betrothed and Elizabeth quickly noted that the young woman was welcomed with a far warmer civility than that with which she had ever been greeted, and whilst she had been bravely defiant to all coldness and adjudication, she recognized within herself a quiet, passing resentment that such easy amiability as that with which Lady Patience was received had been so wilfully denied her. Such a sentiment did not encourage an improvement of her current disposition.

  Lady Patience Faircloth was surprisingly tall and with a figure so reedy and lanky as to accentuate her already generous height. Everything about her was long and thin: her figure, her face, her neck, her hands. She dressed with great attention to the latest fashion plates, but with a discernment that ensured she never looked ridiculous or awkward. She was not handsome and in her countenance was more often than not to be found an expression of distraction accentuated by a perpetually slacked lower lip. In her large and lovely toned dark blue eyes there was but a blank, emotionless quality. Lady Patience Faircloth neither wished ill on any person nor wished particularly well; she was neither malicious, nor petty, nor generous, nor broad minded. She was simply a relentlessly bored lady of three and twenty who had been obliged to exert herself only as far as the basic requirements of her station, and who had never developed the habits of a just mind or a firm character.

  Introductions and welcomes attended, they adjourned to the dining room. Dinner proved a pitiable affair. Although the evening was to celebrate the engagement between the Viscount and Lady Patience, there was an utter lack of joy and between the betrothed couple there were no confidential glances or warm smiles, only the most perfectly executed civility. Elizabeth could not help but recall the happy liveliness of Longbourn when she and Jane had become engaged, and for all the elegance of the room and the excellence of the manners here in Grosvenor Square, she recognized that in such cases as this it was her mother’s boisterous good heartedness that was the more to be desired.

  Lady Richmond could not disguise her frustration with the entire assembled party. Not a one among them seemed in possession of sufficient talent to carry the conversation forward with grace: her daughter was domineering, her niece silent, her future daughter-in-law conventional, the gentlemen monotone and to her great disappointment, Elizabeth, who had been her great hope for lightness and amiability, was stubbornly and uncharacteristically reticent. When at last a particularly awkward silence fell across the table, Elizabeth, in gratitude of the kindness Lady Richmond had shown her, made an effort to ease as best she could the embarrassment of the table. She succeeded at last in engaging Lady Patience in some conversation. It seemed the preparation of the trousseau was a topic that could inspire some fixed interest on the young lady’s part. Before long Lady Patience was lamenting some underhanded dealings recently experienced at the hands of a tradesman she had engaged in the same.

  “Lady Patience, what else are we to expect from a person engaged in trade, after all?” Mr. Norbury remarked dryly and indifferently.

  Elizabeth turned to Mr. Norbury and replied in a firm but sweet voice. “If I may, Mr. Norbury, we should expect precisely what is expected from a gentleman.”

  “You cannot be in earnest, Mrs. Darcy,” Lady Edith cried. All her dismay at her cousin’s rash marriage was sharply renewed as she recalled the young wife’s unfortunate connections. “I have heard from my brothers you are a lively young lady. Surely you jest and would not equivalence a tradesman’s behaviour with that to be expected from a gentleman. Truly, Darcy, what can your wife be thinking?”

  “My wife is perfectly capable of answering for herself, Edith,” Darcy replied, turning to Elizabeth with a small smile; he knew she would not let such a comment pass in silence and was confident the deftness of his wife’s mind and the subterfuge of her sweet address would serve her well.

  “Indeed I can,” she replied evenly, noting that with the exception of her husband, the entire table was looking at her with open incredulity, if not absolute alarm. “A gentleman must of course exemplify honesty and generosity to merit the term at times too freely offered. Certainly we should hope for all men to strive for the same regardless of their station in life. Perhaps we should not be so quick to deny a tradesman the same characteristics of honour and integrity we so freely bestow upon a gentleman, merely for the accident of his birth.”

  “I could not disagree with you more, Mrs. Darcy, we can and ought to assume such a distinction precisely because of birth,” Lady Edith argued coldly.

  “Birth is no guarantee of excellence of character. A man must be judged upon his conduct not solely upon his place within society. Certainly there is as much of a distinction between the man who keeps a shop dishonestly and without even-handedness and the man who runs a warehouse of goods from across the globe with such honesty and industriousness as to improve his lot in life, as there is between that latter tradesman and a profligate eldest son who squanders the very heritage he is born to promote and protect. If the first shopkeeper and the eldest son are both profligate, where lies the great distinction? Who is the finer man, the tradesman whose integrity and industriousness, whose honourable conduct, allows him to rise in the world or the so named gentleman who, through his conduct, verily renounces all his rank affords and demands?”

  Lord Richmond listened to Elizabeth in disbelief and wary agitation. “Your wife is quite the democrat, Darcy. Preaching the demise of rank she is. Quite bold in given company I dare say.”

  “Your lordship has misapprehended my wife’s meaning completely,” Darcy replied calmly, proud of his wife’s sharp mind and poised defence of her principles.

  “How so? She preaches the rise of tradesmen and the confusion of rank.”

  “She said no such thing.”

  “I certainly did not,” Elizabeth interjected in her own defence. “I speak of individual men, not of a collective. Society cannot be sustained if we have not some structure; if we do not all understand our role and our duties within it the result would be disorder and turmoil. It need not be so immutable, however.”

  “Instead she has rightly suggested,” added Darcy, “that as a society we would be better served to learn to judge men by their own merits and that we should expect from all men the same superior standards of behaviour we commonly require of a gentleman. We would then be, as individuals and as a society, the richer for our resulting greater respectability and humanity.”

  “Well, whatever she meant to suggest, Darcy, we can all agree your wife is an uncommon woman,” Lady Edith interjected with no attempt to mask her antipathy towards the opinions expressed by Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth turned to Lady Edith and they looked at one another for a brief moment, mutely recognizing that their common affections for Darcy notwithstanding they were unlikely to be friends. She smiled sweetly and looked to her husband with an expres
sion of bemused annoyance not a little reminiscent of the expression he had sometimes seen on her countenance when they were first acquainted.

  “An uncommon woman?” Darcy repeated. “Indisputably, and to my great advantage,” he replied evenly, smiling warmly to his wife.

  “Here, here, cousin,” Edward interjected unexpectedly. He had listened to the exchange between his sister and his cousin’s wife with a new admiration towards Mrs. Darcy, for Lady Edith was not a woman commonly challenged and it was pleasing to see it so, regardless of the merits of the argument itself. Mrs. Darcy was a spirited creature, to be sure, and he doubted not that the private advantages for his cousin must indeed be gratifying. He turned and looked at Lady Patience, her posture perfect, her manners faultless and her countenance expressionless, and quickly reminded himself of her impressive fortune and noble lineage.

  Showing a grace and generosity her own daughter lacked, Elizabeth turned towards Lady Richmond and changed the conversation to a less polemic subject. She sensed Lady Richmond’s displeasure with the exchange and was regretful on her behalf. Lady Edith watched Elizabeth for a moment, her chin elevated and her expression pinched, and then turned away from her to converse with her father for the remainder of the meal.

  After dinner the ladies retired to the drawing room and as Lady Richmond sat and spoke quietly with Georgiana, Elizabeth was left to the conversation of the two women who would soon be sisters. They were not strangers and spoke of common acquaintances Elizabeth herself had no familiarity with, thereby relegating her to silence. The entire evening was proving far more tiresome than she had anticipated—her relationship with Lady Richmond was certainly promising, but with the rest of the family there were no natural sympathies.

  “After you are married I shall have you to Matchem with my brother,” Lady Edith was remarking to Lady Patience. “You shall come before going off to Highpointe Manor. The Manor is so terribly remote and Matchem is so ideally situated, you will enjoy visiting. Mrs. Darcy,” she said at last turning some attention towards Elizabeth; “your husband is ever so proud of Pemberley, but Matchem is more than its equal, and the gardens are quite superior. Matchem’s are all in the French manner. It is a pity the French are presently out of favour, for no one understands gardens or dresses better than the French. I am sure they will return to high favour soon enough when all the unpleasantness on the continent is settled and forgotten. What say you, Mrs. Darcy? Will you have the gardens at Pemberley improved? Darcy thinks them perfection but they are a little wild to my taste.”

  “I find Pemberley in need of no improvements. I have never seen a place for which nature has done so much or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste,” Elizabeth responded.

  “Well, you would, I suppose, not knowing perhaps any better. And what of you, Lady Patience? Highpointe Manor is rather in the style of Pemberley’s gardens, if not more so.”

  “I leave gardens to the gardeners. It is no concern of mine,” Lady Patience answered with entire indifference.

  “When I married Mr. Norbury I wasted no time in setting to improve Matchem. It was of course already a great estate, but I am not averse to recognizing the improvements I have made as mistress. An estate will never be at its finest without a discerning female hand. I would expect you to understand, your ladyship; Goodstone Park is very impressive. Of course, Mrs. Darcy, you might not comprehend all that is required. If I am not mistaken your father’s estate is quite modest. Of course, Darcy has been master for so long now and Mrs. Reynolds is so capable I imagine your active management is scarcely required.”

  “It hardly seems necessary to alter what is already good for the mere sake of alteration,” Elizabeth replied curtly.

  Lady Edith considered Mrs. Darcy for a moment. Her cousin’s wife was certainly free of diffidence, but she found little to admire, did not distinguish the easy charm her mother had averred. She turned away from her companions entirely and began to address her mother about some impressive accomplishment one of her sons had recently displayed.

  Elizabeth was greatly relieved when the gentlemen joined the ladies. She was no longer surprised at Georgiana’s anxiety, there was certainly something about Lady Edith that made one feel less than brilliant, though she found she could not admire her.

  “You did not like my cousin,” Darcy said to Elizabeth later that evening when they were returned home.

  “Nor did she like me. You had not expressed to me how well you got on with her, though it was evident enough from the moment we entered the drawing room. Are you disappointed that we are unlikely to become friends?”

  “I have always admired Edith. She is an accomplished and intelligent woman who knows her own mind. But I recognize that her sister Alice had far more amiability than Edith ever will. Of course I should like for you to be friends, but it is hardly a requirement for my happiness. I have sometimes gone to Matchem in the spring, after Easter, but I rarely see her above twice or thrice a year. I do not believe a little common civility will be too hard a burden for either of you to bear when you should on occasion find yourselves together.”

  Elizabeth went to his side and began toying with the buttons of his waistcoat. “I am afraid I was not my most charming this evening. I am sure your cousin wonders what could have inspired you to betray all expectations for my sake. She is hardly alone, I am sure. I feel as though half the people at least who have made my acquaintance wonder you could not have found a more suitable mistress for Pemberley. I wish it were otherwise,” she added softly. It was the closest she had come to confessing to her husband the vexing desire to be more than simply politely tolerated by his relations and the large circle of his acquaintance. So few people had been unequivocally welcoming.

  Darcy brought Elizabeth gently into his embrace, smiled as he breathed the delicate lavender aroma that washed lightly from her person and felt the now familiar feel of her hands as they rose up against his chest. “You are the only woman suitable for my heart and therefore the only suitable mistress for Pemberley.”

  “Thank you,” she replied suddenly grave with emotion. “Thank you for never asking me or expecting me to be other than I am, even when I express my opinions with such obstinacy at your uncle’s table.”

  “You once again mistake my selfishness for goodness. Why should I ever wish to change what brings me pleasure and delight? Why would I wish to change what I love?”

  “Do you comprehend what it is for a woman like me to have the privilege of love?” she inquired philosophically. “Young ladies with no prospects, no fortunes, no connections, as I was when you came upon me in Hertfordshire, we are taught that in life we should be prepared to accept whatever security we are offered. We have before us no respectable prospect but marriage and we are encouraged to clasp at whatever opportunity is presented, no matter how distasteful or how repugnant to our sense of self. I rebelled against such subjugation.”

  “As when I first went to you?”

  “Yes,” she laughed softly. “So is it not paradoxical that I have been rewarded for my obstinate disobedience precisely with you?”

  “You are happy, Elizabeth? You possess such a naturally joyful spirit. It is not my conceit to believe you as happy as am I?”

  She smiled affectionately. “No conceit, my darling Fitzwilliam. Why would you believe contrariwise?”

  “There have been occasions since we came to town; as this evening; I am not confident the society in which you now find yourself is entirely to your liking.”

  “I acknowledge it is not so welcoming to the newly arrived as what I was accustomed to in Hertfordshire. But I have no desire for fast friendships. I have learnt to be wary of confidences given too easily or too quickly. Within your circle of true friends, I have become acquainted with more than enough amiable ladies and gentlemen for my pleasure. Do not fret, darling. With time I shall find my proper place. All that is truly important is that between ourselves all is well.”

  “More than well,
” he affirmed.

  Nevertheless, the following days proved to be not what Elizabeth would consider the happiest of her young marriage, for they spent much time at Grosvenor Square in the company of the Norburys. Whilst Elizabeth quickly recuperated her regular disposition, she found that Lady Edith had a disheartening ability to bring out her husband’s least appealing manners. If she had come to understand his comfort with reserve when in greater company, the return of a disdainful tone and an unsympathetic hauteur was not equally comprehensible. Fortunately, Lady Edith never cared to remain away from Matchem for any length of time and Mr. Norbury had always some mysterious project awaiting his return, so the unpleasantness was of short duration. With a little affectionate teasing Elizabeth was able to remind Darcy of his better self, for he had indeed learnt to be laughed at, if only by herself.

  The displeasure increased her anticipation for the arrival of members of her own family to London. She did not confess to her husband what a reprieve it would feel to be surrounded by people with whom she felt no requirement to impress or charm, for Elizabeth comprehended that Lady Edith was not the only person in London society to have found her wanting.

  Chapter 15

  A Family Party

  Mr. Bennet leaned back a little in his chair and observed the table. All he could do was smile, heart warmed. There was not a single caustic remark he could make, nor a foible worth the effort to relish. He believed himself at the moment to be entirely satisfied, a condition he was exceedingly unfamiliar with. The table was laid with great elegance, the meal was superior, and the room was imposing, but such refinements could not affect the heart of a man of such modest tastes. He had thought himself too old, too cynical for such contentedness, but to see his two most deserving daughters together again, and with such admirable husbands, warmed his cynical heart. He owed all these joys to Mr. Darcy, much as the gentleman would evade any expression of gratitude. Had Mr. Darcy not saved Lydia from ruin and disgrace, all of his daughters would have suffered with her and all respectability and peace would have been lost. Instead of such family wreckage, his two eldest daughters were as well settled as could have ever been aspired to.