Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  “Wonderful,” Sam exclaimed when his sister accepted. “And perhaps a little while later, you might favor my new cousin Miss Darcy, as well,” he said, gesturing in the direction of a willowy blonde standing not too far away from them.

  Rushworth was obliged to decline. Lowering his voice, he replied, “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Sam, but I have heard the whispers about that young lady’s reputation, and I believe I have had my fill of scandal already.”

  Sam frowned, glancing nervously at his cousin; Rushworth began to fear she had overheard them, for she abruptly walked away, approaching a very attractive brunette and speaking to her with great animation. Before his friend could rebuke him for making such a faux pas, he hastily offered Miss Harriet his arm and they joined the dance.

  He found Miss Harriet to be a pleasant partner, though her manners were very different from the fashionable ladies of the ton. Given how his own fashionable ex-wife had behaved in the end, he could not fault Miss Harriet for her lack of fashion, for she seemed a good sort of girl. She was eager to please and be pleased, full of nothing but the highest praise for everyone she had met and everything she had seen and done since she had come to Town.

  Happily for him, she carried most of the conversation on her own. As she had been in Town, had indeed only been Miss Harriet Sutton for three weeks, much of her history was of the time she had spent as Miss Smith in Highbury, and Rushworth thought he quite liked Miss Smith just as well as he liked Miss Harriet Sutton.

  Having been recently married to a woman who was never quite satisfied, despite having so very much, Miss Harriet’s unabashed positivity was a breath of fresh air. She spoke warmly of her friends in Surrey, and had good to say even of the lowly widows and orphans of her former home, as well as the one gentleman’s daughter whom she had befriended before her own surprising elevation.

  “How happy I was when Miss Woodhouse offered me her friendship,” said she. “All the other girls at Mrs. Goddard’s school were very lovely indeed, and I could not at all account for it when Miss Woodhouse chose me from amongst them as her particular friend. Indeed, were it not for all I have learned from her about fashionable manners, I am sure I should have been in a sorry state indeed when my mother and father invited me to London.” She laughed nervously.

  “I am sure they must be delighted with you, dear Miss Harriet,” said Rushworth. As she had been so long in the country, he might dare to hope she knew nothing of him, neither of his wealth nor of the scandal in his family. She was seeing him just as he would wish to be seen, only for himself. It was a singular feeling indeed, and he thought he was quite enjoying it.

  He was sorry when their dance came to an end, and wondered if his tardy arrival precluded him from asking her for a second set. Before he could do so, Miss Harriet cheerfully recommended him to one of her new cousins by marriage, Miss Mary Bennet, sister-in-law to Mr. Darcy.

  Rushworth consented to be introduced to the Darcys, and found them both pleasant and genteel people, perhaps the wife more so than the husband. Miss Bennet was unfortunately not as handsome as her sister Mrs. Darcy, but her dress was both elegant and modest, and her comportment entirely appropriate – he declared it would be a pleasure to escort her to the set.

  “Your new cousin was quite singing your praises, Miss Bennet,” said he as they took to the floor. “Your family must be quite delighted to have her now amongst you.” Miss Bennet agreed that it was so, but did not elaborate. He tried again. “Miss Harriet seems quite the ingenue, but I understand you have not been long in London yourself. Do you find you and your new cousin have much else in common?”

  The girl seemed uncertain of how to reply. “I am still getting to know her better,” she said cautiously. “At present I would not dare to speculate, or gossip about her in any way.”

  Though disappointed by her reticence, Rushworth was pleased at least by the morality of her impulse. “I appreciate your sentiments,” he replied, “though I believe we must have some conversation.”

  “Do you talk by rule then, while you are dancing?”

  “Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together, particularly when one might become better acquainted with someone new.”

  Miss Bennet appeared to consider his words. “Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine you are gratifying mine?”

  “Both, I would hope,” he replied.

  The movement of the dance separated them for a moment, and when they came back together for the next movement, Miss Bennet offered him a smile. “I apologize if I have seemed discouraging. In my admittedly limited experience, I have always been content to let my dancing partner say whatever he liked, and have little experience with leading the conversation myself. Were it left up to me, I am sure I should talk of books, and you should find me exceedingly dull.”

  “And you, in turn, should find me exceedingly disappointing,” Rushworth said, attempting to put her more at ease by admitting to a fault as she had done. “Unless, of course, your taste in reading material tends to a more botanical direction.”

  “It does not, though it does not follow that I should not find such subjects uninteresting. Are you a naturalist, sir?”

  He regretted now that he had mentioned it, though it would not do for him to fall silent now. “Last year, I took an eager interest in the improvement of the gardens and grounds at my estate, and did a little research in anticipation of the project.”

  “And what was your success?”

  “The project was unfortunately suspended, though I hope that proves to be a temporary condition. Indeed, I do hope to finish the improvements at Sotherton someday.”

  “I can see how that project might be quite interesting, though it is not what I would have guessed of you. You seem quite suited to London, though it seems your interest lies in the country.”

  “I am less often in Town than at home, yes,” he replied. “Though it is gratifying indeed to hear that I do not appear as a fish out of water tonight.”

  “I am certain I must,” Miss Bennet said ruefully. “I have spent most of my life in the country – all of it, actually, until last September, when we came to London after my sister Lizzy married Mr. Darcy. Then we were in the country again, at Pemberley in Derbyshire.”

  “I hear it is one of the most spectacular estates in the north.”

  Here Miss Bennet grinned at him. “Do not say so, Mr. Rushworth – in Mr. Darcy’s hearing, it must be the finest estate in the whole of England!”

  Miss Bennet, in time, became more conversant. She had claimed to have four sisters, but spoke only of three – one elder, Mrs. Darcy, a younger sister who had married the second son of the earl, and the youngest, who was only just sixteen, and not yet out in society. She had nothing but pleasant things to say about the sisters she did mention, yet again another great difference between Miss Bennet and his ex-wife.

  As full of praise as she was for her sisters, she was more modest regarding herself. Though she enjoyed practicing music, she described herself as more of a hopeful student than a polished performer. “I do take pleasure in the fact that I have been told I have shown a tremendous improvement, these last several months. Though my friend Lady Rebecca tells me I shall never sing truly well, my performance at the pianoforte is much improved, and she is even teaching me the harp.”

  “I wonder at your having time to be an avid reader,” he replied.

  “I daresay I shall always have time for that. Only Lady Rebecca says I must give up Mr. Fordyce, who was always a favorite of mine. I am learning to appreciate poetry more, as Lady Rebecca says it will improve my ear for music. I have become her protégé, you see, as she is Mr. Darcy’s cousin and my sister Lizzy’s dearest friend. I have also developed, I must admit, something of a taste for novels, much to my new cousin Harriet’s delight. She was eager to recommend The Romance of the Forest when first we met, and I suppose I shall have to read it, for she decla
res she shall not be satisfied until she has somebody to discuss it with.”

  He conjured up a most pleasant image in his mind, of the two young ladies huddled together, whispering between themselves. Miss Bennet was certainly not as lovely as Miss Harriet, nor so well dowered, but her modesty and intelligence were highly in her favor. By the time their dance had ended, Rushworth found himself obliged to remember that he was not, at present, in want of a wife.

  ***

  Mary spent the greater part of the evening feeling rather uncomfortable. She had been happy enough with Elizabeth’s new family in the three months they had spent in Derbyshire, but she had not felt entirely at ease since they had come to London. Despite the pride she took in her own personal improvements and the pleasure Rebecca’s friendship brought her, London itself held little appeal.

  Being so constantly in the public eye at one social function or another had been difficult for her to adjust to, and the rumors circulating about Georgiana had only made it more arduous for Mary to face the fashionable world. The moral quandary of knowing the gossip was true, yet wishing to protect Georgiana nonetheless, was nothing compared to the constant fear of what society might say about her. She had not Georgiana’s good looks or large dowry, and despite having grown more accomplished, she felt her finest qualities were the ones that were least prized by the London ton.

  She was trying to be gay tonight, for her family’s sake. With Elizabeth and Kate both in a delicate condition, Rebecca mourning the loss of her cousin, Georgiana attempting to put on a brave face amidst the recent scandal, and Harriet Sutton newer even than herself to such elevated society, Mary felt it incumbent upon herself to support her friends and relations as best she could, if only by causing them no further alarm.

  She was disappointed that Mr. Tilney, who had been so attentive at Mrs. Sutton’s dinner, was not present, having gone already into Kent. She was further dismayed by the ever-charming Henry Audley, who had flirted with her as much as he did with any other lady since their return to London. He was certainly handsome, and could always be depended upon for lively conversation and a gratifying yet appropriate amount of flirtation.

  Tonight, however, he was grating on her nerves. He began their dance with all of his usual pleasantries, but quickly moved on to plying her with increasingly impertinent questions about Harriet. Mary had no wish to gossip about the poor girl, who was already facing an uphill struggle in society, nor could she run the risk of being known as a gossip, when she had only her virtues to recommend her.

  Mr. Audley first attempted to pass his curiosity off as an idle interest, such as any of their circle might take in the unexpected newcomer amongst them, but Mary saw through him. Harriet was just the sort of girl Mr. Audley would wish to encounter, well dowered enough to be a desirable match, and vulnerable enough to be considered attainable; Mary felt it her moral duty to discourage him.

  “I am sure you understand,” said he, “I am only eager for conversation, as we are to be dancing together for some time yet. We are old friends, are we not? You cannot think I would form any serious designs on a girl so new to society, particularly when her mother frightens me out of my wits. No, I am sure Lady Catherine has no wish to part with her daughter so soon after discovering her, especially after such a lengthy separation.”

  “That I cannot say,” Mary replied cautiously. “What Lady Catherine might wish for her daughter is their business alone; I can do naught but wish them well.”

  “Quite so, quite so. I have been speaking with Sam tonight, and I understand he wishes to form a little house party at Cranbrook to give his new sister the benefit of some society when her new parents remove her to the country. There is fine sporting to be had in that part of Kent, and if Miss Harriet is in want of any gentlemen upon whom she might practice her newly acquired charms, I see no harm in volunteering as tribute.”

  Mary bristled at his nonchalance. “I cannot agree that her charms are so newly acquired – I am sure she was quite amiable even before she came to London. I understand she was the particular friend of Lady Rebecca’s cousin, Miss Woodhouse. As the near-constant companion of one such as she, I daresay Miss Harriet was not without charms even when she was in Surrey.”

  “Oh yes, of course. Indeed, I had not meant to suggest otherwise. It is only that Lady Catherine, you know, has the highest of standards for all her family, would you not agree?”

  Mary hesitated. “Certainly, as the daughter of an earl, and sister to one as well, Lady Catherine occupies a much higher sphere, but I cannot think Miss Harriet unworthy of her mother.”

  “I see you are determined to mistake me, and think ill of me, Miss Bennet. It is such a shame, as we have always been friends. You wound me, and provoke me to speak to your friend Lady Rebecca about the matter, for I fear she has been a rather prickly influence.”

  Mary glowered at her partner, and was tempted to leave the dance at once. “I rather think it is you who wishes to provoke me, by making shocking statements.”

  “That Lady Rebecca is prickly is a shock to no one,” Henry Audley drawled, “though I will tell you quite candidly I like her all the better for it. Her manners are peculiar, to be sure, but that is what makes her company so exciting. One never knows what she will say or do, when all the rest of the world seems determined to be dull and predictable.”

  “I seem to be in an impossible situation, then. You would admonish me for following her example, and yet if I do not, I too would be dull and predictable.”

  He laughed appreciatively at her logic. “Perhaps you deserve a category of your own, Miss Bennet. There are few enough in this world who are so fiercely loyal to their friends and relations, and I commend you for it, even though you judge me so harshly. Tell me, do you really think I am such a bad sort of fellow?”

  Mary considered this for a moment. “I hope I do not pass judgment on anybody, as that is certainly not my place, nor any man’s. I only wish to be good, and encourage others to do the same. If you find this an unusual quality in others, then I am very sorry for you, for in general I would say the greater portion of my acquaintance can also be described as such.”

  Henry Audley grinned at her as they spun together with the other dancers. “Determined to speak with honesty and conviction, and yet determined to see naught but good in everyone around you – you appear to be at cross purposes, in London society at least.”

  “I must disagree; I believe there is good to be found in everyone, if one takes the trouble to look. Perhaps society is too full of people who take delight in finding fault rather than virtue in those around them.”

  “Such as those who would whisper about your poor sister, Miss Darcy,” Mr. Audley replied with a significant look. “How horrid I felt when I first heard of it, and I was greatly troubled at how your poor family must be suffering. You are, as you say, all very good people, who do not deserve the stain of such a scandal.”

  Mary felt her muscles stiffen as she forced herself to continue through the movements of the dance. It was just what she had feared, that somebody would sense her weakness and press her about the matter. “Knowing me as you do,” she replied, “you cannot expect me to speak about that matter, any more than I would gossip about Miss Harriet.”

  “I would expect nothing less than you categorically denying the vicious rumors about Miss Darcy; indeed I would suppose you to be her staunchest defender, for your moral conviction is your greatest virtue.”

  He had verbally cornered her, for in observing her morality he challenged her to either confirm the rumors, or forgo her morality by touting the lie her family was determined to perpetuate. As neither of these was an appealing option for her, she said merely, “Defending against these rumors only keeps them alive, sir. I think we would do better not to speak of it at all, and the whispers will die away as they ought.”

  “You needn’t fear I actually believe them,” he replied evenly. “I speak only out of concern for your family, nothing more. It pained me, truly, to hear p
oor, sweet Miss Darcy spoken of so cruelly. I fear it will damage her prospects, which had seemed so promising at the beginning of the season. Though Lady Catherine may wish to keep her daughter close, I am sure Miss Darcy was expected to make a splendid match this season, though it may now no longer be possible. Indeed, as I claimed your hand for this dance, I observed Mr. Rushworth flatly refusing to dance with Miss Darcy. Her prospects may have been damaged beyond repair. If it were to come to that, I would happily offer myself up as a candidate for marriage, for I think she is a good sort of girl, who deserves better than the degradation of spinsterhood.”

  Mary turned her face away, that he might not see her grimace. If only Rebecca were here to hear him speak in such a way! “I hardly think it will come to that, sir! If you truly wish to pursue her, I would advise you to cease all mention of this malicious gossip immediately.”

  He shrugged. “As I said, I am not actively seeking a wife at present – I only wish to offer any help that may be needed. You need not give your family any undue alarm, by mentioning my offer, if you think it would not be well received, or necessary.”

  The dance came to an end, and not a moment too soon, in Mary’s estimation. Mr. Audley bowed, then extended her his arm and offered her some refreshments. “That will not be necessary, sir,” she replied. “You may be assured I will endeavor to forget this conversation entirely.”

  Such was Mary’s tumultuous state of mind when Mr. Rushworth asked for her next dance. Though she wished to come up with some excuse to refuse him, she could not, and was obliged to dance with the very man who had insulted poor Georgiana.

  In spite of her predisposition to dislike the man, and even in spite of his own awkwardness, she began to enjoy his company a little more over the course of their half hour dancing together, so much so that she began to wonder if perhaps Mr. Audley had been mistaken, or even fabricated the story entirely for his own purposes.

  It was only after she had finished her dance with Mr. Rushworth, and sought out Georgiana and Rebecca, that Mr. Audley’s accusation was confirmed – Mr. Rushworth had been overheard telling Samuel Sutton that he could not dance with Georgiana, as she was tainted by scandal.