Unexpected Friends & Relations

by Jayne Bamber

  “I must think of my lessons. Caroline – all of my family – they have the highest hopes for me, for my future. I wish to make a fine marriage someday, and my lessons must certainly help me to improve myself, to be the sort of woman any man might want.”

  “Are you not perfect enough? Are you not already the sort of woman one man in particular might want?”

  Her heartbeat grew so loud it was nearly deafening; the evening chill gave her gooseflesh, and her whole body was shivering with excitement. She wrapped her fingers around his and drew a little closer. “Mr. Audley,” she breathed.

  “I hope you may begin to think of me, to think of this….” He leaned forward, cupping the back of her neck in his hands as he drew her into a gentle kiss.

  Her first kiss! Well – her first proper kiss. She had kissed Lieutenant Denny once, but it had been a rather rushed thing, a stolen moment when no one was looking – but this, this she intended to take her time with, to fully enjoy. It was magnificent to be kissed so eagerly, so tenderly, and by such a handsome man! She returned his kiss with no little ardor, letting out a little moan as he broke away; it was over far too soon. “Oh, Mr. Audley,” she sighed again.

  “When we are alone, let us be Henry and Lydia,” he said with feeling. “Promise me, Lydia; promise me you may yet begin to think of me.”

  “I am sure I shall,” she said, smiling widely. Though she knew she must not speak of this to Caroline, she could at least boast of having made a rather thorough conquest this evening.

  ***

  Supper was gotten through, and the dancing resumed afterward. Wentworth passed a dull half-hour listening to Miss Harriet babble on about how delighted she was with everyone and everything, and then decided he had better adjourn to the card room. Mrs. Sutton had retired for the night, and Sam was playing at vingt-et-un with Jasper and Mr. Fitzwilliam, a great cloud of smoke billowing about them in the hazy, dimly lit room.

  “There’s a man with a heavy purse,” Sam cried, beckoning for Wentworth to join them.

  “Certainly I am no longer such a one,” Mr. Fitzwilliam said with a droll look, getting up from the table and offering Wentworth his seat. “I had not thought to see you here with us old married men,” said he, “but I am for the ladies once more.”

  “And how much better you shall dance with lighter pockets,” Jasper quipped.

  Robert Fitzwilliam clapped Wentworth amiably on the shoulder before making his exit from the card room, and Wentworth assumed his seat at the table, motioning for Sam to deal him a hand. Sam made an odd face as he shuffled the cards very ill indeed, and passed the deck to Jasper. Sam was well in his cups – it was something of a joke amongst them that he was a bit of a lightweight with his liquor, and Jasper seemed well entertained by it. Sam fumbled for a cigar, and offered one to Wentworth; he readily accepted, and leaned back in his chair, enjoying the first puff of it. Seeing Sam in such a state was nothing new, and certainly amusing – he called for another round of brandy, and all three of the men took a drink.

  Sam miserably overplayed and lost the first trick, and Jasper laughed merrily as he took his winnings. “Awfully good of you, old boy, to set us up here in such a merry party, and be so very obliging with your coin.”

  Sam laughed. “Keep drinking, my friend, I shall win it right back.”

  “You are a gracious host,” Wentworth agreed, venturing to broach a particular subject as best he could. “I wonder your younger brother does not join us all here.”

  Jasper grimaced. “You have not met the younger Mr. Sutton have you? Else you should not be asking!”

  Wentworth gave him a questioning look, motioning for Jasper to go on, but Sam interjected. “Seymour may be my brother, but if he were not, I am sure I would find him a right miserable sod. It is odd he should be so long in Scotland; he quite despises the place, but I daresay he despises his wife just as much!”

  Something like rage stirred in Wentworth, but he kept his cool and easily took the next hand. Jasper gestured for him to deal the next one, and as Wentworth laid the cards out on the table, he observed, “An odd thing, indeed. I daresay she is a finer sight to set eyes on than anything they might have in Scotland!”

  “To hear him tell it, when last he wrote, she quite plagues his heart out,” Sam replied.

  “You were not there the night they were betrothed,” Jasper guffawed. “We saw what you did not – what a ghastly scene!”

  “In all my years in the Navy, I have seen a great many ghastly scenes,” Wentworth said with calculated indifference. “You are not likely to shock me.”

  Sam leaned forward sloppily on the table, grinning. “From what I understand – from what my father let slip – it was a shocking business indeed. I do not know that Seymour had ever even met her before, but something possessed him – he got it into his head to stake his claim on her, if you take my meaning. Grabbed her right by the –” he completed his sentence by making a rather rude gesture with both hands. “She wasn’t having it – cannot say I blame her, for Seymour’s a berk – but her brother brought her round to the idea of matrimony.”

  Wentworth grimaced. He was beginning to feel sorry that he had asked, but he wished to know if there was any truth to what Miss Lydia had told him. He forced himself to laugh it off. “I should rather wonder at her being invited to Cranbrook, if that’s the state of things – sounds like she does not much care for him.”

  “Probably not, if she’s got any sense,” Sam replied, helping himself to another brandy. “I know I’d be bloody miserable married to the prick! Well, better for her, getting away from him in Scotland – I imagine she should be much better off here with us, for Father is determined to be kind to her, treat her like proper family, as if it’s not all a sham.”

  “And Seymour is likely consoling himself with a Scottish trollop to warm his bed,” Jasper rejoined, smiling as he puffed at his cigar.

  “He always does,” Sam grinned.

  Discouraged by what he had heard, Wentworth lost the next few rounds of vingt-et-un, and in the end he made a rather large wager and lost deliberately, buying himself some excuse to quit the room completely.

  So it is true, what Miss Lydia said – Caroline Sutton’s marriage is a sham, and one that was forced upon her. He felt rather guilty for having coaxed such information from his friends, and no little disgusted by their manner of discussing it. It was not the first time he had seen his friends foxed and speaking so coarsely. Sam seemed always to regret it later – Wentworth was regretting it already.

  He hoped, at least, that Sam and Jasper would have little recollection of their conversation in the morning, and his sudden interest in Mrs. Sutton. It was certainly a precarious situation – likely Mrs. Sutton thought she had them all fooled, with her paltry excuses for her husband remaining in Scotland. She could have no idea her new relations were fully aware of her circumstances, and discussing them in such terms – not that she would wish to be the object of their pity, a spirited woman like that. No wonder she seemed rather half-sprung.

  Wentworth knew he should not pity her – she would not like it. What he really felt was an inexplicable curiosity about her, a pull toward her, and even now he sought her out across the ballroom. She would likely not have him if he were to ask her to dance again, but he knew he was just the sort of blockhead to try anyhow; knowing what he knew now, it was going to be even harder to stay away. He wanted her, as it seemed her own husband did not, and a woman neglected by her husband was a very dangerous sort of temptation.

  16

  Surrey, April

  About a week after the arrival of Frank Churchill and Sidney Parker, the Westons gave a dinner in honor of their guests. Mr. Weston had long enjoyed a reputation in Highbury as a jovial man, fond of company, active in the community, and well-disposed towards anything that offered the slightest promise of amusement. Mrs. Weston, too, was an open-tempered woman, lively enough in her own right, and made more so by her marriage. Happy as they were to finally receiv
e the visit from Frank Churchill that had been so long talked of, they were no less pleased by his friend Mr. Parker.

  It was perhaps the one area where Rebecca might have disagreed with Mrs. Weston, or even her cousin Emma. She distrusted Mr. Parker, and found his person and his conversation ridiculous; indeed, her estimation of Mr. Churchill, whom she had entertained the highest hopes of finding to be a most suitable match for Emma, was greatly diminished by discovering him to be such an intimate friend of Mr. Parker’s.

  She had learned of their friendship at the Banfields’ ball, but had forgotten. With such reminders as she had now of the degree of intimacy between the two gentlemen, who were both daily callers at Hartfield, Rebecca’s annoyance began to increase. She liked Frank Churchill well enough in his own right – she had already decided that she wanted to like him – had wanted Emma to like him, and had wanted him to like Emma in return.

  That Emma and Frank did like one another, a hope she knew the Westons also cherished, was certainly apparent, but over the course of that week Rebecca saw her cousin grow so very fond of Mr. Parker, as well, as to give her no little alarm.

  Mrs. Weston would not allow that she saw anything in it at all – she assured Rebecca, in as much privacy as the furthest corner of the drawing room at Randalls would allow, that after such long-standing curiosity for Emma, her interest in him should certainly not be so easily supplanted by his friend. Rebecca considered, and watched them closely – this may have been true, were it not for Mr. Parker’s determination to attach himself to Emma.

  Frank Churchill, naturally aware that he had long been an object of curiosity to all of Highbury, was cheerfully disposed to make himself agreeable to them all, while his friend seemed less inclined to divide his attention likewise – it was fixed all upon Emma.

  This disparity, Rebecca could not like – how was Mr. Frank Churchill to remain foremost in Emma’s thoughts, when he abandoned her to the devices of his friend, while recommending himself to everyone else in the room?

  They were not so large a party – certainly a dozen people could not be said to be a very large party, in Rebecca’s estimation. Miss Bates was in attendance, of course, as well as her niece – she would decline, but John had been most insistent she was not to be excluded, and the new housekeeper at Hartfield was so eager to recommend herself to her new employer, and prove more invaluable than her predecessor, that she had agreed to look after the children any evening she may be required to do so. Mr. Elton had come, determined as ever to attach himself to Mary, and of course Mr. Knightley was there, though he seemed rather out of humor with them all.

  That he was still angry with her, Rebecca was quite certain. She even began to suppose that he was not best pleased with the new arrivals, and dearly wished to tease him about it, but feared he was already far too cross to be trifled with. Angry as she still was with him, Rebecca might have been inclined to cajole him very amiably, and thought herself an insufferable ninny for avoiding him instead.

  And yet, certainly it must be he who should make the first effort. She was imbued with all the justification of being the wronged party in the matter – certainly she would not speak to him first – it must be for him to apologize, and make as much effort as he chose to be friends once more.

  He did not, nor did he acknowledge her at all over the whole course of the dinner, nor in the drawing room afterwards. There was just enough company that such a thing might go unnoticed by everyone else – certainly nobody would be thinking of whether Mr. Knightley had spoken to Rebecca or not.

  She was determined not to be bothered – she was not bothered by it. Indeed, she was resolved that he should feel all the discomfort of her disapproval, and she often noticed him regarding the animated conversation of Mr. Elton and Mary with such hard looks that she was inspired to glare at him each time she caught him out, looking away only when he had met her eye, and perceived her displeasure.

  Though she had wanted to speak to Mary about Mr. Elton – she had thought of it often in the last week, though never at such a time when Mary was actually before her, and able to speak privately – she was sure that Mary need not keep up her efforts of distracting Mr. Elton for much longer. Mr. Parker would need to be drawn away from Emma, so that the natural and desirable course of things might progress, but to that Rebecca herself was determined to attend.

  While Mary amused Mr. Elton, who was determined as ever to be pleased with her, Emma graciously allowed Mr. Parker to monopolize her conversation with tales of Sanditon, and Mr. Knightley sulked about the corner of the room. Rebecca decided that something must be done before the tension became quite unbearable. A game of charades was proposed; Mr. and Mrs. Weston instantly agreed it should be a fine thing, and Miss Bates regaled them at length with her many expressions of approval before declaring that she herself must be merely a spectator.

  Mr. Knightley would not play – Rebecca declared she knew well enough that it was beneath his dignity – and certainly this made the dividing of the rest of the party much easier. There was some discussion as to the arrangement of the teams – no little arguing on the part of Mr. Elton and Mr. Parker – a division of the sexes was finally agreed upon, with both the ladies and the gentlemen equally confident in their imminent victory.

  Mr. Knightley was content to devote himself to Miss Bates’s comfort during the game, and anything that she required – if she needed more tea, if she was situated comfortably on the sofa, if she was too cool or too warm; Rebecca could not but smile to herself; as she was often spying on him glancing up at their company with little smiles not meant to be seen, and she began to hope that he was not so very out of humor after all.

  The game diverted them all for the better part of an hour, and that Emma was very often laughing and clapping and generally enjoying herself was Rebecca’s foremost occupation. Observation was her secondary object – Rebecca watched her cousin closely, determined to detect whether Emma held any peculiar regard for either gentleman just yet. Certainly she had claimed it was most impossible, upon so short an acquaintance, but Rebecca was a little dismayed at how cheerfully Emma received Mr. Parker’s persistent attentions, which only grew more overt and flirtatious as the evening went on.

  Rebecca felt vindicated in her dislike of him, for he could certainly not have ever been very attached to Georgiana, if he would recommend himself to Emma so eagerly now, without even making any mention of Georgiana – he had not asked after her health, or her season in London – nothing was said; he spoke very little to Rebecca at all.

  Frank’s attentions to Emma, Rebecca felt certain would have been enough, were it not for the overpowering presence of Sidney Parker. Mr. Churchill was very civil to everyone – determined to please his father, to make the entire company aware of his tremendous approval of the new Mrs. Weston, to be so kind to Mary as to deflect the overt attentions of Mr. Elton, and even to show some kindness to Jane Fairfax, that she might not be mortified by the great difference in her situation and theirs.

  Rebecca supposed that there must have been a considerable degree of acquaintance between them in Sanditon, through many little looks and phrases that passed between Miss Fairfax and Mr. Churchill. That Miss Fairfax was equally on cordial terms with Mr. Parker seemed apparent on her side, at least, though Mr. Parker was so thoroughly engrossed with Emma that he took little notice of Miss Fairfax’s friendly remarks or expressions. That Miss Fairfax was wounded by his negligence soon also struck Rebecca’s notice.

  Poor Miss Fairfax! Though Rebecca was quite certain that Sanditon must be the most ridiculous place, it had surely been a place where Miss Fairfax had been at liberty to move amongst fine society as an equal. To have been the cherished companion of the Campbells’, and to return to Highbury and the genteel poverty of her aunt and grandmother, and then to sink lower yet, to even accept the position of governess in her own neighborhood – Rebecca rather felt for the poor girl, for she had always been inclined to think well of those with a tragic history. The inha
bitants of Highbury were kind people, who, as she herself had predicted, continued to treat Miss Fairfax, who had ever belonged to them, with perfect civility. Even Frank Churchill, who was a man of Highbury in spirit if not actual residence, was generous to her, giving her all due notice, but Mr. Parker, it appeared, would not. More reason for Rebecca to despise him.

  After their game of charades, Rebecca took pains to be on good terms with Miss Fairfax, and braving her cousin’s disapproval, she conversed with her as much as Miss Fairfax’s reserve would allow. Now she began to feel some share of Mr. Knightley’s approval – his scowls were softened, his sulking abandoned as he took equal pains to converse, which he ought to have done before, or else remained at home entirely. He remained wary of Mr. Parker and Mr. Churchill, and Rebecca repined that she and Mr. Knightley were not presently on such terms that she might question him about it, or compare opinions with him about the new arrivals.

  He ended the evening having spoken to her not at all, and though he had spoken very little to Mr. Elton earlier on, he moved to address him at the evening’s end, with such an expression as to cause Rebecca no little consternation. She could not hear them, speaking at such a remove, but watched their faces closely, and from the increasing dismay Mr. Elton exhibited, with the occasional glance in her direction and Mary’s, Rebecca knew what their subject must be. Mr. Elton was the first of them to leave, though the rest of the party broke up soon afterward, and though Mary appeared perfectly tranquil, Rebecca was vexed in the extreme, and resolved when next she met with Mr. Knightley to make her sentiments known to him.

  ***

  The next morning, Mary, Rebecca, and Emma were occupying themselves in the usual way – gossiping idly in the parlor and waiting for the inevitable visit from Randalls. Miss Fairfax was to have a couple days to herself in the village with Miss Bates, and John was occupied in playing with his children on the lawn. He came into the parlor ere long, just after the post had come, and remarked upon receiving a curious note from Mr. Elton.