by Jayne Bamber
“And yet that is precisely what we mean to do,” Mr. Parker replied merrily, and Georgiana wished she was in the room to share in his gaiety. “In fact, I recall visiting Darcy in this very room last autumn, urging him to bring his wife to Sanditon this summer, and take in the sights. You must remind him of my offer, for nothing would please me more than for Mr. Darcy to bring his lovely bride to Sanditon later this year.”
“You might have the opportunity to remind him of the fact yourself, if you like,” Rebecca replied. “We are attending a celebration at my aunt’s house three nights hence, and all of our family will be in attendance. You are welcome to join us, Mr. Parker, and you as well, Colonel Campbell.”
Georgiana smiled to herself – though Rebecca was being rather high-handed, at least there would be another opportunity to meet with Mr. Parker, though it would be under her brother and cousin’s watchful eye.
“I should be delighted to,” Colonel Campbell said. “I understand your brother, Lord Hartley, was formerly known as Colonel Fitzwilliam – we claim a slight acquaintance, from several years ago. I should be most happy to give him my regards.”
“What a coincidence,” Rebecca replied. “I shall say nothing of it, so you shall have all the advantage of taking him by surprise. And Mr. Parker, I am sure my cousin will be delighted to see you again, as well. Miss Darcy will be sorry to have missed you, though she is much occupied in visiting our very wide circle of friends and relations while we are here in Town.”
There was a moment of silence before Mr. Parker said, “Alas, I am engaged elsewhere Tuesday evening – you must give my apologies to Mr. Darcy and the rest of your family.”
Georgiana recoiled from the doorway in vexation. Not a word or a thought for me – wretched man! How happy she had been when she thought he had come to see her, but he cared only for Sanditon, and coaxing her brother to visit him there. Her brother! After all the time she had spent with him, believing him to have been interested in her, even flirting with her, and now he asked only after William, who barely tolerated his high spirits.
Rebecca’s reply was lost on Georgina as she stomped away from the door and began hammering out a furious piece of music on the pianoforte. Let him hear me. Perhaps he shall recall I play, if he even remembers my existence. And then he shall know I was not so very indisposed at all. Let him think I did not wish to see him, that I care as little for Mr. Parker as he does for me!
***
Lady Catherine and Sir Gerald Sutton’s wedding breakfast was by no means an intimate affair. Wishing to deflect as much attention away from Georgiana as possible, Lady Catherine had gone to great lengths to ensure that it would be herself, and not her niece, who would be the talk of London for the rest of the season.
Elizabeth did her best to speak with all of the guests, though she was feeling rather ill that morning. After wishing the newlyweds all the best, Rebecca appeared at Elizabeth’s side, arm in arm with Kate. “Well, Lizzy, Richard tells me you once predicted my aunt’s marriage to Sir Gerald, when we were all together at Netherfield. Are you relishing the triumph of your intuition?”
Elizabeth laughed in spite herself. “Oh Rebecca, would that I had your ability to always know just the right thing to say. I have been a little out of spirits of late. I find myself feeling quite stupid, and almost unbearably empathetic to everyone around me. Georgiana is so miserable it breaks my heart. Even Mary seems rather mawkish lately, and I feel for her terribly. I can scarcely eat from all the anxiety I have been feeling, and when I do – well, not to be indelicate, but I oftentimes feel rather ill.”
Rebecca looked at Elizabeth with distaste. “That sounds positively dreadful. This is precisely why I have long abstained from sentimentality.”
Kate, on the other hand, was grinning widely at her. “Oh Lizzy,” she whimpered with suppressed glee. Giving Elizabeth a significant look, she placed both of her hands on her stomach. “Sister, I believe we share a certain secret in common. Do you truly not understand your own symptoms? Aunt Cathy explained it all to me the night before I wed Robert.”
Elizabeth let out a breath of astonishment. “Our aunt did describe certain things to me before I married William, but she did not warn me how very dreadful I would feel once I had accomplished that particular feat – that is what you are saying, is it not?”
Kate nodded enthusiastically. “Oh Lizzy, and we are to experience it together! Can you think of anything more felicitous? Little cousins playing together at Pemberley and Rosings every summer! We shall have to think of names! I have begun a list already – it is just here in my reticule – I brought it along with me, in case I encountered anybody this evening with a name I took a fancy to. In fact, I am glad I have brought it, for I have met Aunt Cathy’s friend Mrs. Ferrars, whose Christian name is Theodora, is that not lovely?”
Elizabeth had not the chance to consider before Rebecca made an odd, strangled noise, and abruptly excused herself.
***
Rebecca felt terrible for being so rude, but she knew if she did not excuse herself immediately, she was likely to give further offense. Elizabeth and Kate both with child! Rebecca could think of nothing more horrid, and she began to wonder if perhaps there was something wrong with her for not finding herself capable of offering genuine congratulations. Was it not the right thing to do, and expected of her besides? And yet she could not, when she was not in the least bit pleased by the news.
It was the ultimate achievement for a woman to produce a child, to give her husband heirs, and at what cost? Women died in childbirth all the time. It had happened to two of her own aunts, a few of her friends from school. Even her own mother had died of a complicated pregnancy. And those that did survive the ordeal seemed to lose something of themselves in the process. Having secured a husband, a woman was no longer expected to be an interesting companion, merely a broodmare, their identities defined only by that single accomplishment, and how happily every mother of her acquaintance had given way to these expectations! Would Elizabeth still be Lizzy after she had a child? Assuming she survived the pregnancy? Good God, how can I even think such a thing?
Rebecca felt her gaze inadvertently stray to Mrs. Bennet, who was seated on the sofa by the fire, clad in black crêpe, mourning the loss of her despicable daughter. The woman was speaking with great animation to Mrs. Jennings, while Lydia sat idly by, looking bored. Motherhood had certainly shaped Mrs. Bennet into a strange creature indeed, and Rebecca could not but wonder how the condition would affect her daughter. Would Elizabeth still value the companionship of her dearest friends, when she had children to fill her days?
Lydia’s indecorous posture of absolute indifference brought to mind how wickedly delighted Rebecca had been, when she learned that Elizabeth had orchestrated for her youngest sister to become a companion to Caroline Sutton. Rebecca had applauded her friend’s deft maneuvering when Mrs. Sutton had come to offer her unexpected services, fearing only that Elizabeth might actually have taken a sincere liking to the woman. Now, her worries took a different path. Had it been the first stirrings of Elizabeth’s maternal impulses, to see Lydia properly looked after? Well, if Elizabeth could not take pleasure in the obvious hilarity of the situation, at least Rebecca might amuse herself at Mrs. Sutton’s expense. She approached the petulant child with a civil greeting for Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Jennings, before asking, “Miss Lydia, you appear to be as much in want of exercise and conversation as myself. Would you care to take a turn about the room with me? It would be most refreshing.”
Lydia rose from her languorous stupor and accepted Rebecca’s arm with a grin. “There can be only two reasons for you asking me such a question,” she whispered as they moved away from Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Jennings. “Either you have some great secret, and wish to finally take me into your confidence as you do with Mary, or you realize that our figures appear to the greatest advantage when walking, and are as keen as myself to look well for all of the gentlemen here,” she practically purred.
Reb
ecca groaned internally. Yes, she and Caroline will do very well indeed together. Aloud she said, “While I have no secrets of my own to confide, I believe you may. I understand you are to reside with my new cousin, Mrs. Sutton. I have been acquainted with the lady for several years, and would like to hear your own impressions of your new guardian.”
Lydia gave an unladylike snort. “It is excessively annoying how we have suddenly acquired so many new relations. It seems everyone I meet with in London is related somehow, through Mr. Darcy or Lady Catherine or someone equally stuffy. I suppose I will find Mrs. Sutton just as stuffy. At least Georgiana dislikes her – we are so very different, I suppose that must be something in Mrs. Sutton’s favor.”
Rebecca subdued her irritation – truly, how is this hoyden related to my Lizzy? – and smiled deviously at the petulant little wretch. “So… you have not yet been introduced?”
“No, for that would require Lizzy and Mr. Darcy to acknowledge I exist, which they do not. Mr. Martin made us leave Longbourn, my uncle does not want me, and even Lizzy would rather Mr. Darcy’s boring sister live with her than me, but Mr. Darcy has at least agreed to give me an allowance and some new dresses, which is more than they did when I was with them at Pemberley.”
“That is very generous of them, though I am sure you and Mary both had new gowns for Kate and Robert’s wedding, and for Christmas. No matter, I saw Mrs. Sutton arrive just a few minutes ago – that is her there, speaking with my aunt. Would you like to meet her now?” Rebecca knew the office of introduction must rightfully belong to Darcy and Elizabeth, but they seemed quite distracted already, and Rebecca knew that no one would have a greater degree of appreciation for the hilarity of it all than herself.
***
Caroline fidgeted uneasily with her shawl as she entered the elegantly appointed home of Lady Catherine. How often she had imagined receiving an invitation thither, though she had always imagined it would have been as the bride of one of the great lady’s nephews. The new viscountess was speaking with Lady Catherine, and Caroline schooled her countenance into a look of haughty ennui as she approached them. She was determined to impress her new mother-in-law, and to keep up the appearance of being a proper wife in front of her father-in-law; she would begin by being exceedingly gracious to her former rival.
Sir Gerald was the first to step forward and greet her very civilly, despite her tardy arrival. “How do you do, my dear, how do you do,” he cried affably. “We were beginning to fear you meant not to come, for all the other guests have arrived. But here you are! What a pity Seymour does not accompany you this morning.”
“Yes, a great pity,” Caroline replied carefully, prepared to give the answer she had rehearsed many times. “It is most unfortunate that he should be detained in Scotland with estate matters at this time of year, but it could not be helped. I longed to remain in Dumfries with him, but he insisted that I should come to London to see my brother off. Charles is most aggrieved at losing his dear wife, and means to travel the continent to raise his spirits.”
“Yes well, that is very like my son,” Sir Gerald nodded knowingly. “It was just what was right and proper, for you to attend your brother at such a grievous time. In fact, I may have to deprive poor Seymour of your company for some weeks longer, and beseech you to remain in London a little while, as I have not yet had the opportunity to come to know you better, my dear, though you rose in my son’s esteem so quickly.”
“You are too kind, sir. I believe I may remain in Town for some time. Pray, where is dear Cynthia? I do not see her anywhere.”
Joining her husband, Lady Catherine grimaced. “Miss Sutton has experienced a sudden desire to accompany her elder sister, Mrs. Audley, to Mr. Audley’s estate in Northumbria.”
“Yes, quite right,” Sir Gerald agreed, a strange twitch at the corner of his mouth. Elizabeth must have been right about Cynthia’s complicity in the rumors about Miss Darcy. Northumbria indeed.
“It is a pity Cynthia and Selina have gone away before the arrival of their younger sister,” Sir Gerald continued, “But you must certainly call next week, once our dear Harriet has arrived. Such a woman of fashion yourself, I daresay you must be an eminently desirable companion for her.”
Caroline thanked him sincerely, and as he moved away to speak with other guests, Caroline turned her eye to Lady Hartley, who had remained incredulously silent during Caroline’s exchange with the Suttons. “Certainly as a leader of fashionable society yourself, Lady Hartley, you must also take an eager interest in Miss Harriet’s emergence in the ton. I shall do my best to follow your lead.”
Lady Hartley smiled hesitantly, confirming Caroline’s suspicion that she must have had an unpleasant account of Caroline’s character from Mrs. Darcy, prior to their fragile new alliance. Then again, Caroline had known it would not be an easy task to rebuild her reputation in society. Suppressing every instinct of superiority, she endeavored to remain humble yet sincere. “It is fortunate for Miss Harriet, is it not, that she has so many models of elegance and good breeding within her own family?”
Lady Hartley’s expression made it clear that she believed the remark to be sarcastic, and the failure of her efforts rather stung. Caroline rallied herself to make another attempt, but was forestalled by the approach of an exceedingly overdressed woman with beady eyes and an attitude of decided hauteur. Lady Hartley glared at the newcomer with palpable contempt, and Caroline instantly resolved that she should dislike the lady as well, if only to endear herself to the viscountess. Upon hearing the lady’s name, one she had heard spoken by her detestable late sister-in-law, her resolve to hate the woman redoubled.
“Mrs. Dashwood,” Lady Catherine drawled with a superior smile. “How glad I am your dear mother has given you my invitation.”
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” Mrs. Dashwood said.
“Yes, quite so,” Lady Catherine replied.
Caroline was struck by the tension, and Mrs. Dashwood seemed to sense it as well, turning awkwardly to Lady Hartley and extending her hand. “Marianne, surely we shall not stand upon ceremony here, my dear. How John and I have been longing to see you.”
Lady Hartley did not take Mrs. Dashwood’s hand; she gazed coldly at her before turning her head and beginning to walk away. “A moment, my dear niece,” Lady Catherine said, and Caroline, feeling her presence to have been forgotten, began to move away, but curiosity got the better of her and she lingered at some remove.
“I have not yet told you of the delightful wedding present I received from Mrs. Dashwood’s mother, Mrs. Ferrars,” Lady Catherine said. “It seems that your husband, Mrs. Dashwood, has run up some substantial gaming debts, though I understand you have been unaware of the fact. Your mother, kind soul that she is, has purchased several markers, as a kindness to your poor son. She and I are very dear old friends, and she has gifted them to me as a wedding present. I do not know why she thinks I should want such a thing, though I suppose I shall have to ask my other niece, Miss Darcy, what she thinks I ought to do with them. Perhaps you may wish to offer your own opinion on the matter, as I understand you have had a great deal to say on many subjects of late.”
Lady Hartley, having just given Mrs. Dashwood the cut direct, now grinned at her. Caroline met Lady Hartley’s eye and offered a friendly, knowing smile of her own. Of course, she was sure she did not know everything, but she suspected enough – Jane had hated the Darcys, and sang Fanny Dashwood’s praises – and now Mrs. Dashwood had been betrayed by her own mother, apparently, and left to the mercy of the Fitzwilliams.
As Mrs. Dashwood stammered to make some reply, Caroline quickly interrupted her. “Lady Hartley, Lady Catherine, I cannot recall when I have enjoyed a wedding breakfast more. I hope we will speak again later.” She glanced over at Mrs. Dashwood, waiting for the wretched woman to meet her eye, before Caroline fixed her with an icy glare and walked away.
A short time later, she was approached by Lady Rebecca, and Caroline did her best to prepare herself for the wor
st. She had not seen Lady Rebecca since the very moment she had been discovered in the compromising position that had led to her unfortunate marriage, and the look in Lady Rebecca’s eyes at that moment had told Caroline that her so-called friend had not been as surprised by the situation as she herself was.
Lady Rebecca greeted her merrily. “Mrs. Sutton, how lovely to see you. I hope married life is treating you well. Are you enjoying your return to London?”
“Enormously,” Caroline replied. “Your aunt, my new mother-in-law, is marvelous – I admire her more than words can say.”
“Well then, you already have a vast deal in common,” Lady Rebecca laughed. “If it is acceptable to you, I should like to introduce one of my cousins by marriage.”
“An oft-repeated pleasure, I am sure,” Caroline replied with a smirk. “It seems half of the people here are related by marriage.”
“That is just what I said,” Lady Rebecca’s young companion exclaimed, and Caroline tried not to visibly wince at the shrill whine.
Grinning, Lady Rebecca nudged the young girl into giving a belated curtsey. “You begin to see you shall have your work cut out for you, Cousin Caroline. May I present your new pupil, Miss Lydia Bennet, who has apparently forgotten how proper introductions are supposed to go. Pray tell me, when shall you begin providing her the edification of your company? That day cannot arrive too soon, I am sure.”
4
Caroline let out a sigh of satisfaction as she and Lydia were shown into Lady Dalrymple’s London townhouse in Cavendish Square, which was even more fashionable than her lodgings in Laura-place, when she had first made her acquaintance in Bath the previous year. She had been hesitant, at first, fearing the viscountess would not receive her, or even remember her, but her admittance to the house had renewed Caroline’s natural confidence, and she smoothed out her new silk gown as she entered the drawing room. Beside her, Lydia was in fine looks as well – though it would be several more days until her new wardrobe was complete, the rosy silk gown Caroline had lent the girl fit splendidly, and made just the kind of statement she desired.