A part of her wished she could remain cuddled with a book, shunning the world and her problems behind the door to the room; however, reflection and lounging in bed were not a part of the day’s agenda.
Hattie bustled into the room with Elizabeth’s usual grey mourning gown hanging over her arm.
“Hattie, I think I will wear something different.”
Her maid’s eyebrows rose as she moved back towards the dressing room. “Which gown would you like, Miss?”
“Do you think the blue one I wore to dinner would be too fine?”
“Based on the gown her ladyship’s abigail carried this morning, I imagine it would suit, but what would you wear for dinner?”
Considering the dowager’s and Mr. Darcy’s words from the night before, she gave thought to the items they had packed. “Perhaps the yellow or the grey you are holding since I will remain within the house.”
Hattie was about to return to the dressing room when she turned at the last minute. “Your bath will be ready in a moment. I can also bring ya… your tea if you like.”
Hattie’s speech was slow and measured, so unlike her usual manner. Elizabeth reached out and grasped her maid’s hand. “Hattie, why do you speak with such care? Has someone been unkind?”
“Oh, no miss! Her ladyship’s maid and I had a talk last night. She offered to help me, ya see… you see.” She blushed a bit with her error. “Sarah… that’s her name, suggested I should speak more formally.”
“I have no issues with your accent, or the manner in which you speak…” She meant to say more, but Hattie was too busy defending Sarah to realise.
“She said I would reflect better on you and Mr. Darcy if I am to serve you when you travel.”
“Hattie, please do not feel you must do this for me. You would never do anything to cause us shame.”
“No, miss, I would never do so on purpose, but I would not want people to think poorly of you or your family because of me.”
“But…”
“I have listened to Mrs. Henderson and the resta the servants here. I sound more like the scullery maid than an abigail or even a footman in this house.” A determined look in Hattie’s eye prompted her to let her maid be. “I do not mind. I want to be what is expected.”
She sighed. “Very well. As long as it is what you wish, and not because you feel you must.”
“Thank you, miss,” she said, returning to her usual manner. “Oh, your bath only lacked a few buckets, last I looked, so it should’n be long.”
She nodded and Hattie entered the dressing room, reappearing seconds later with the gown from the previous evening, which she laid on the bed. Elizabeth was fingering the fine, pale blue that overlay the white gown underneath when a noise in the next room caused her to regard her maid with puzzlement.
“Your bath is ready, miss.”
“Ah, thank you,” she responded.
She took her time, soaking in the water as she considered what the next fortnight would bring. Her life was about to take a dramatic turn, and she could not continue to suffer from nerves lest she turn into her mother—Lord, what a nightmare that would be!
Yet, she missed her mother, and so a part of her felt guilty for thinking so of her, now that she was gone. In the end, she needed to learn to adapt to the situation that now presented itself. The idea was easier in theory than in reality, but she was determined to succeed.
Once she was dressed, Hattie, with the help of some instructions scrawled on some paper, styled her hair. The coiffure was more elaborate than she was accustomed to for every day, but then everyday would now be different, too.
When she stepped into the corridor, she nearly collided with the dowager as she passed. “Miss Bennet, I hope you slept well.”
“Yes, the room is very comfortable, thank you.”
“Good… good, I hope you will be content to spend your day with me.” She took Elizabeth’s elbow and steered her towards the stairs. “Madame Lebrun responded to my message last night, requesting her first available appointment. She will accommodate us early this morning. I am an early riser, so if I require a last minute gown, she schedules me before most of society would venture out for shopping.”
“I appreciate your help, my lady.” She was cheerful as she spoke, but was taken aback when the dowager abruptly stopped and faced her.
“Now, I insist you call me something besides my lady. You will be my granddaughter soon, and I do not have family address me with such formality.” She smiled mischievously as she clasped her hands in front of her. “I had thought to introduce you as my future granddaughter today whilst we were at the shops, but without mentioning which of my grandsons was your betrothed. That will set some tongues to wagging!”
She chuckled along with the stately grandmother. “I would not wish to be considered disrespectful, so I leave it to you to decide the name you would prefer me to use.”
“Fitzwilliam will be my first grandson to marry,” thought the dowager aloud. “Elinor, my son Henry’s wife, calls me mother. Would you be comfortable addressing me as grandmother or even grandmamma like my other grandchildren?”
“I would not mind at all, but only if you will call me Elizabeth, or even Lizzy as my family does.”
Despite their brief acquaintance, the dowager appeared open and accepting, which helped to ease her mind. Mr. Darcy had assured her that this side of his family was different than his father, but she had still been concerned he might have exaggerated to calm her.
His grandmother nodded. “I should like to.”
She glanced around at the offerings on the table, but where was Mr. Darcy’s place setting? “Does Mr. Darcy usually break his fast in his rooms?”
His grandmother glanced over to the empty seat as she took a piece of toast from the tray before her. “My grandson is almost always up and about quite early. Since his spot is empty, you can assume he has already eaten. I would imagine he wished to get a prompt start to the day. He will have a great deal of business to take care of this week. It would not do for him to be out and about dealing with those matters in the weeks that follow the wedding.”
“Of course,” she replied, disappointed.
She did grasp what his grandmother was trying to tell her, and she agreed whole-heartedly. Neither his father nor her uncle needed any ammunition to challenge the validity of their marriage. It was of the utmost importance that everything seem as though it was planned in advance, regardless of what rumours might be in existence. Yet, the two of them still required time to become better acquainted before they were wed.
During the meal, she answered questions from her future grandmother about her accomplishments, likes, and dislikes, and by the time they rose from their seats, she had promised to prepare a piece on the pianoforte for after dinner one night later in the week. She had much in common with her future grandmother, and they did not lack for conversation.
When she had sipped her last bit of tea, they both rose, and Elizabeth collected her shawl that had rested on the back of the chair while she ate.
“Lizzy,” said the dowager, as she grasped the wrap, “did you embroider this?”
“Yes, although I used a tambour stitch rather than regular embroidery. Tambour stitching is faster, and I am never the most patient with my needlework.”
“The design is lovely, dear. We should bring this and show it to Madame Lebrun. She may have some designs for gowns you could embellish. You do not have to of course, but I think you could make a very simple gown stunning with some embroidered trim work.”
“I have never done so in the past, but if Madame Lebrun has a gown that would suit, I would be pleased to attempt it.”
The dowager beamed with pleasure. “Wonderful!
She followed the lady to the entrance hall, where Hattie was waiting with her outdoor garments. Elizabeth began to put on the same fawn coloured pair she had worn the evening before, when the dowager glanced in her direction.
“Oh! Last night my grandson said
to be sure to purchase you some new gloves—ones that fit.”
Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. “I truly do not require new ones. These are still very serviceable.”
“That may very well be, but if my grandson could discern that they are not correctly sized, then so will the spiteful young things he deemed unworthy. Do not give them something so simple to criticize.”
She could not help but smile as she shook her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Coming from a small town, she was overwhelmed when she accompanied the dowager. They arrived at the drapers as they opened and were ushered inside straight away, where they were shown a multitude of fabrics.
Once they selected their purchases, the dowager steered Elizabeth to a counter with various gloves on display. She tried on several pairs with her future grandmother, who set aside those they would purchase. She attempted to object at the number, but the dowager insisted she would require several colours and styles and would not relent despite her protests.
The gloves were added to the fabric, with one pair being handed to her before they departed the shop. Having no intention of changing them right then and there, she put them in her reticule then climbed into the equipage to travel to Madame Lebrun’s.
Upon their arrival at the popular modiste’s, the footmen handed them both from the carriage and escorted them into the shop, where a young girl raced to the back calling for the Madame.
“Bonjour!” the well-known modiste exclaimed a few moments later as she entered the room. “I see you are on time as always, my lady.”
The dowager smiled. “Madame Lebrun, I appreciate you doing us this favour at the last minute. I hope it was not too much of an inconvenience.”
“Of course not! I am always very happy to add an appointment for you.”
“As I said in my note, the appointment is for my future granddaughter, Miss Bennet.” She motioned towards Elizabeth as she spoke, and the woman examined her from head to toe before returning to the dowager with a pleased expression.
“Bien sûr, Madame.” Madame Lebrun’s attention was drawn behind them, and she turned to find the footmen who had accompanied them with their fabric purchases. “Place those on the table, s’il vous plaît, and I will send one of my girls to bring them to the back.”
“Ladies,” she said, gesturing towards them. “If you will follow me, we will take Mademoiselle Bennet’s measurements and then discuss the gowns.”
They were shown to a private parlour where they were attended by the modiste and her staff. Elizabeth had never requested so many items at one time before! Not only did they order several gowns, but also new undergarments and nightclothes, which she had been accustomed to making herself. An entire new wardrobe would be hers by the time she was wed, with very little work on her part. Madame Lebrun would even have a pale ivory gown made first, so that she could embellish it with embroidery for her wedding gown.
As they were in the process of leaving, she leaned towards the dowager. “I could not help but notice that when you introduced me as your future granddaughter, no one thought to ask to whom I was betrothed.”
She was taken aback when the older woman began to chuckle. “Madame Lebrun has the utmost discretion. I trust her implicitly, but the girls in her employ are another matter. I have been witness to her terminating one of her seamstresses for gossiping about her clients, but I still do not take chances with them.” She stepped into the carriage and took her seat, waiting for Elizabeth to be situated before continuing. “Fitzwilliam will be paying for your purchases, so Madame Lebrun does know. She would never inquire as openly as you might think.”
Elizabeth glanced out of the window at the storefronts as they passed. “Are we finished for today?”
“We are heading over to order you slippers and boots. Of course, we will also need to stop by a milliners.” She glanced down to Elizabeth’s hands and back to her face. “May I ask what you did with your new gloves?”
Her lip quirked up on one side. “My gloves are perfectly serviceable.”
The dowager rolled her eyes with a smile. “That may be, but they must also fit!” The older woman pinched the empty tip of her index finger, accidentally pulling the glove off in the process. Both ladies began laughing as the offending article was handed back.
“I did not expect it slip off quite so easily.”
Elizabeth withdrew the new pair from her reticule and swapped them for Jane’s, which she placed carefully back within her bag. “I must confess that I had not either” When she had completed her task, she held up her hands. “Are they a vast improvement?”
“Quite,” replied the dowager, as they made their way into the shop.
The last few stops were not as time consuming as Elizabeth had presumed, and she soon found herself with the dowager in the lady’s favourite teashop, seated to one side of the room with them both facing the interior of the establishment.
The dowager leaned over towards her ear. “I hope you will forgive me for instructing you as to where you should sit. I do not care to have my back to those who are entering. There is nothing more dreadful than being ambushed by someone you do not like.” She straightened back up, returning her hands to her lap. “I would much prefer some warning.”
Smiling, Elizabeth repressed a chuckle. An unobtrusive servant’s hand reached past her and placed their refreshments before them. “I am not offended, and I can easily understand your motive.” She leaned closer to the older woman, much as the other had a moment before. “I would imagine it also makes it easier to whisper to me those secrets you do not wish the room to hear.”
“You understand me perfectly, Lizzy,” she said with a wide smile. “I do not generally care for gossip, and you do not seem the type to enjoy it either. Nevertheless, you will need to know some tittle-tattle to navigate society as Fitzwilliam’s wife.”
Her eyes widened and she glanced about the room. “Is he often the source of rumour?”
“Oh! No!” the dowager exclaimed. “I had not meant to give you that impression. He is the topic! Rumours have circulated for the last few years that speculate on who and when he would marry. You may find you are not received with the welcome you deserve by those parties.”
Her tension eased, and Elizabeth reached for a small cake to place on her plate. “I would imagine anyone could encounter that regardless of who they wed.”
“Very true, but I think you will find it a bit more cattish in town than in the country.”
A bell on the door sounded, and Elizabeth’s eye was drawn to the two women entering the shop. They resembled each other enough that she assumed they were sisters. The fabric and lace of their gowns bespoke money, yet, in her opinion they were a bit overdone.
“Ahhh, what a coincidence that she should appear today and this minute in particular,” the dowager whispered.
Elizabeth turned towards the dowager with her eyebrows raised in curiosity.
The older woman shook her head. “You will not have to wait long. It appears they are headed this way.”
The women had indeed spotted The Dowager Countess of Matlock and were walking in their direction, the taller of the two with a most affected smile upon her face.
“Lady Matlock!” The voice was so falsely sincere that it took Elizabeth aback. “I had heard that you intended to quit town. I cannot say how pleased Louisa and I are to have happened upon you here.”
“I was unaware that I had announced to all of London I was leaving, Miss Bingley.”
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.
“I must say, the gossip mill must be starving for a scandal if it is taking such a keen interest in the travels of an old woman such as myself.”
“I would not say that.” Miss Bingley tittered and her sister followed suit. “I just bumped into Miss Crawley and she was telling us that Lord Grantley was seen at the theatre last night with…”
“Lord Grantley is always with someone it seems,” interrupted the d
owager. She glanced at Elizabeth and gestured towards her. “I would like to introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Bennet, these ladies are Mrs. Louisa Hurst and her sister Miss Caroline Bingley.”
The ladies each gave a slight dip to their chin and a small curtsy as she said their names. They were disinterested in her and wasted no time returning to their attempt to draw the dowager into more gossip. Elizabeth continued to sip her tea until a question caught her attention.
“Does Mr. Darcy return to town soon? Charles has not mentioned it, and Louisa and I would so enjoy having him dine with the family one evening.”
His grandmother smiled. “I believe he intends to be in London soon, but to conclude matters in preparation for his betrothal and subsequent marriage.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes sharpened. “I had not heard he was betrothed.”
“Unfortunately, I am unable to elaborate at the moment—I am certain you understand—but an announcement will be made soon. I assure you.”
Miss Bingley peered towards Elizabeth, seeming to notice her for the first time. “Miss Bennet, I do not recall Lady Matlock saying where you hail from?”
“I am from Hertfordshire.”
“Her father’s estate is called Longbourn, I believe. Is that correct, dear?”
“Yes, Longbourn.” Why did the dowager speak as if the situation was current? Still, she did not contradict the statement, as the lady would have some motive for speaking as she was.
Giving a sniff, Mrs. Hurst glanced at her sister and back. “I have never heard of it.”
“Well, it is long-standing and respected, whether you have heard of it or not.” The dowager’ voice was dry, and her countenance conveyed her annoyance.
Miss Bingley, who remained oblivious, surveyed the table in the obvious and vain hope they might be issued an invitation. With no welcoming overture, it would be rude to continue on as they had, yet she tarried.
But soon, she peered around the room. “I suppose we should find a table.” The two places that had been available when they entered were now taken, but she shuffled in that direction.
An Unwavering Trust Page 7