‘I appreciate your candour. I shall await your opinion on the Don Giovanni. Ah, here comes my brother to give us his opinions.’
Frederick Fanshawe protested he had not come this way to inflict his opinions on anyone, but to glean those of others. ‘Not so much your thoughts, sir,’ he told his brother, affecting disdain. ‘You will tell me more – or perhaps less – than I need to know. I would prefer to ask Miss Bennet for her views.’
‘I think my view is representative of the audience in general,’ said Kitty, ‘which is that we are all delighted with what we have heard so far. What do you think, Mr Bingley? You are better able to appraise the performance than I.’
He, of course, was pleased with every aspect of the evening so far and happy to say so, leaving Kitty to silently assess and admire the two Fanshawes until it was time for the musicians to resume.
The second part of the concert held the audience rapt, just as the first had done, and it would have been strange indeed had no grateful applause been heard at its close. It was, thought Kitty, quite surprising how much noise three hundred people could make and interesting, too, that the concertgoers were not drawn from one strata of society. Certainly, she could see members of the aristocracy present, but they did not dominate; the audience was drawn by a love of music and art, indiscriminate of rank and position. It was refreshing.
As the crowd made its departure, Sir Edward emerged from the crush, the Fanshawes in tow. ‘Excellent, was it not, Miss Bennet? Excellent! The society says its mission is to perform the best and display the genius of the masters. Can’t argue with that, no?’
‘I thought it superb, Sir Edward. We are indebted to you for obtaining our seats.’
‘Not a bit of it, glad to have been of service. Capital, capital! Well, please excuse us,’ he said, speaking for himself and his nephews. ‘We are expected elsewhere. Good evening to you all.’ Thus, the three gentlemen departed, leaving the Bingley party to assemble themselves and find a carriage to take them to Brook Street and Kitty to wonder if she might see the Fanshawe brothers again. Her mother would no doubt approve of them.
CHAPTER 17
Elizabeth was expected within the hour and Kitty found herself quite agitated. It was but four months since she had seen her but it seemed longer, and so much had happened in that time. She was nervous about meeting the Darcys and could not but suppose that Georgiana would be proud and aloof, a feminine and sharply fashionable version of her elder brother. Miss Bingley was forever lauding praise upon her and in Kitty’s imagination she had become quite as cool and overbearing as both Caroline and her sister Louisa. Moreover, Miss Darcy had her own establishment in London, a fortune of thirty thousand pounds and was deemed beautiful; all in all, she was a terrifying prospect. Still, Kitty reasoned, Lizzy would be there; she could be relied upon to smooth awkward moments. She had checked her appearance, fiddled with her curls, adjusted her neckline and was now pacing the room, unable to stand still. Kitty took another deep breath, picked up her book – she and Jane had visited the lending library together only yesterday and found it well stocked – and went slowly downstairs.
In the drawing room, she found the usual arrangement: Jane and Bingley together on the sofa near the fire; Mr Hurst semi-somnambulant on a chaise; Caroline and Louisa deeply absorbed in each other’s company and taking a turn around the room, the better to preserve and flaunt the new gowns both were wearing. Nonetheless, the atmosphere was relaxed and Kitty was welcomed, and bade sit by her sister. Both were alert to the sounds of passing carriages and when one finally clattered to a halt outside the house, all formalities were dispensed with and Jane and Kitty were at the door to greet the visitors before they had had a chance to alight.
‘Lizzy! You look so very fine!’ was Kitty’s initial observation as Elizabeth was handed down from what was undoubtedly one of the newest and most elegant liveried carriages seen in a city that excelled in displays of wealth. Lizzy might have hushed her but too soon she was in Jane’s embrace, followed by Kitty’s, and then the three stood aside to allow the other passengers to alight.
With his customary polished reserve, Mr Darcy began the introductions: ‘Mrs Bingley, Miss Bennet, I trust you are well. Allow me to present my sister, Miss Darcy.’ The ladies curtsied, exchanged looks. Georgiana Darcy was as elegant and finely turned out as her status befitted, but the arrogance Kitty had been expecting was not apparent. She was tall, like her brother, and carried herself very erect, but her eyes, rather than scanning distant horizons in search of some misdemeanour or fault, were modestly downcast.
‘I think,’ laughed Lizzy, pulling her cloak closer and looking up at a leaden March sky, ‘it would be a great deal better if our acquaintance was furthered inside. We have all been longing to see you, have we not Georgiana?’
Miss Darcy smiled her assent and allowed Jane to lead her into the house. As she followed, Kitty observed that her manner towards Jane was all warm politesse; there was, thus far, nothing in Georgiana’s behaviour from carriage to drawing room to cause Kitty alarm.
Caroline Bingley, meanwhile, was having no trouble containing her unabated joy at the sight of Mrs Darcy, but the veneer of civility – indeed, friendly accord – that was now required of her if she wished to continue to court the society of Mr and Miss Darcy was a more difficult task. Having acquired Jane Bennet as a sister was bad enough, but she had the dark consolation that she had done all she could to prevent the match and, in charitable moments – were she to allow herself any – might have seen that her brother had made a worthy choice. Slowly and painfully, she had had to accept that particular mésalliance. The pretensions of Miss Elizabeth Bennet in getting and marrying Fitzwilliam Darcy were, however, hardly to be borne. To witness equal, or any felicity, in that union would be a trial, both of and for personality. Now that her own, completely fanciful, notion of becoming Mrs Darcy had been extinguished by a country nobody she fervently hoped that Darcy regretted his choice of bride. She was, of course, delighted to see Elizabeth.
‘My dear Mrs Darcy, how charming you look!’ she exclaimed, crossing the room to welcome her. ‘And Mr Darcy, Miss Darcy, you are looking exceedingly well.’
‘I thank you, madam,’ replied Mr Darcy, answering for himself and his sister. ‘And yourself? I hope we find you well?’ Further civilities were stopped by Mr Bingley’s jovial and heartfelt pleasure at seeing his old friend and his new wife. ‘Darcy, it has been too long,’ he declared, clapping a hand on his back. ‘Mrs Darcy, you look enchanting as ever.’ He kissed her hand, looking all mock permission to her husband, and drew the pair over to Jane. Kitty followed.
‘It seems an age since we last met,’ continued Miss Bingley to Georgiana, loath to allow her to escape. ‘Mrs Hurst and I were saying only last week how we longed to see you, and now you are here! Mr Darcy is very wrong to confine you to Pemberley when there is so much to enjoy here in London.’
‘I am sure you are right,’ replied Georgiana. ‘I must learn to love London society more.’
‘Indeed you must, my dear Miss Darcy. We will go visiting together, if your diary permits. I should be most happy for your company.’
‘You are too kind, Miss Bingley. My dear sister Elizabeth and I have been discussing concerts and other engagements. No doubt some of our interests will intersect. Elizabeth will know. She is become invaluable to me, I will ask her directly,’ said Miss Darcy, looking around the room for her sister-in-law and quite unaware of the arrow she had just delivered to Caroline’s heart. Elizabeth, in conversation with Kitty by the window, caught Georgiana’s faintly imploring glance and supposed she really must avail herself of Miss Bingley’s company. She took Kitty with her; it would be unfair to deprive her of Caroline’s condescending eloquence.
‘How do you like Pemberley, Mrs Darcy?’ she began. ‘Such a different house from your home. So much larger than Longbourn; you must find the change quite challenging.’
‘Not at all, Miss Bingley. How kind of you to concern yourself o
n my account but please set yourself at ease. Pemberley is my home now, and I love it quite as much as Darcy and Georgiana. The more so because they are part of it.’ Elizabeth directed her gaze squarely at Caroline, her gracious smile and open countenance masking any irritation – or even, just possibly, triumph – she may have felt towards her interrogator.
Kitty watched, inwardly proud and delighted. How in control Lizzy was!
‘The grounds and the park are so exquisite,’ continued Miss Bingley. ‘Mrs Hurst and I have often ridden across them. Such delightful sojourns we have had at Pemberley. What a shame you do not like to ride, Mrs Darcy.’
‘Oh, but Elizabeth does ride,’ countered Georgiana, without thinking. ‘She has had just a few lessons recently and my brother says he saw none who had learned so quickly. They often ride out together. I think they must have covered nearly every inch of the estate by now.’ She turned to Mrs Darcy for confirmation of such a long speech.
‘Not quite,’ said she, ‘but it is my intention to explore all of it. I do like to get out in the fresh air, Miss Bingley, as you will remember. And Georgiana is becoming quite my partner in crime in my outdoor pursuits.’
Caroline managed a tight smile. She did remember Elizabeth’s predilection for brisk walks and fresh air, and how, quite unfathomably, Mr Darcy found this attractive in a woman rather than intolerably unrefined. ‘And have your relations visited you in Derbyshire yet, Mrs Darcy?’ she enquired sweetly, hoping to disarm Elizabeth. The former Miss Bennet may have elevated herself by marriage but her mother was an embarrassment and, so too, her younger sisters, especially the disgraced Lydia.
‘As yet, only my aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Gardiner,’ answered Elizabeth, unperturbed. ‘Of course, Jane and your dear brother will visit in due course. And Mary and Kitty, too, no doubt.’
Kitty, hitherto content to be a silent witness to this tender exchange, nearly cried out in delighted surprise at the promise of an invitation. Instead, she took her cue from Elizabeth and merely smiled at Caroline and Georgiana, whilst wondering when, and for how long, she might go to Pemberley. She was saved deeper speculation on the subject, and Caroline prevented from further jealous inquiry of Elizabeth, by Mr Darcy’s joining them. The change in Miss Bingley’s demeanour – from sugar-coated animosity to a kind of cloying courtesy – was immediately apparent. Kitty watched with pleasure Mr Darcy’s attentions to her sister and his quiet pride in her. As the conversation continued, she became aware that Miss Bingley would not dare risk any slight of her in his presence. She also saw a deeply disappointed woman; Lizzy seemed impervious to her cloaked hostility but Caroline Bingley made Kitty nervous, although she could not say precisely why. Georgiana Darcy, she noted, seemed content to let the discourse flow around her and was much less intimidating in real life than Kitty’s imagination had conjured. Indeed, she was almost on the point of asking Miss Darcy her views of London when dinner was announced and Jane led the way into the dining room.
CHAPTER 18
The excitement – on the whole, benevolent – occasioned by Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy’s arrival at a drawing room in Brook Street was as naught compared to her entrance into the salons of London’s elite. Long regarded as one of the most eligible bachelors in England, many a mother had urged her daughter to try to get Mr Darcy for herself, and those same mothers, along with their disappointed daughters, curious matrons and ever-inquisitive aunts, were eager to view this young woman of insignificant means and family who had ensnared his heart, and more importantly his fortune.
The new Mrs Darcy felt sufficiently equipped to deal with the anticipated coolness of London’s high society, but she was under no illusion as to her novelty to that company. Darcy had remarked more than once that should anyone cut Elizabeth they would henceforth be cut by him and become persons of absolutely no importance to either of them. She, in turn, had assured him of her complete disinterest in making a mark in fashionable society. On his first morning in town, he had sat in his carriage as his footman presented the cards that announced the presence in London of Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy to various friends and acquaintances. He had been gratified by the number of cards that had been returned the next day, presaging the customary ‘wedding visit’ at the Berkeley Square address.
In a very short space of time, Mrs Darcy had had the pleasure of meeting some of the finest and most fastidiously fashionable ladies that London could offer, and had borne their scrutiny with bemused tolerance, properly disguised as elegant attention.
Jane, when she visited shortly afterwards, was both pleased and amazed at the row of gilt-edged cards propped up along the mantelpiece in Elizabeth’s drawing room. It was impossible and tiresome, Lizzy remarked, to remember the names and titles of all the ladies who had called during the past few days, effusive in their delight to count her among their set and invite Mr and Mrs Darcy to dinners and balls.
Darcy had maintained a straight countenance when Elizabeth had regaled him with her accounts of exacting courtesies and occasional foibles.
‘I trust,’ he said at last, ‘there were one or two ladies whom you deem worthy of your notice. Do not forget, Eliza dearest, that I have known some of these families most of my life.’
‘My love,’ said she, taking his hand and smiling up at him. ‘I am only teasing. Everyone has been most polite and courteous and it is all so very charming, as well as just a little amusing. Mrs Darcy will be delighted to accept the invitations of all who have been kind enough to proffer them, and if I were to enjoy some company more than others, would that be so very wrong?’
‘You know I would not contradict you on that score,’ her husband replied gravely, wondering where this would lead. ‘Who has particularly gained your approval thus far, may I ask?’
‘Why only the ladies of earls and baronets, my love,’ said she archly and before he could protest pulled him down onto the sofa to discuss the invitations so far addressed to Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy.
In consequence of this flurry of social interest, Elizabeth and Darcy were invited to the home of Lord and Lady Milton for dinner. Her ladyship was generally regarded as one of the most important hostesses in London, and inevitably Mrs Darcy would be under a much more comprehensive and concentrated scrutiny. First impressions, as Lizzy very well knew, were persuasive and on the day of that dinner she found herself thinking about what to wear and taking more care with her appearance than was her wont. Kitty, who had called in to visit (without first presenting a card), was keen to help and give advice, however superfluous that might be given Elizabeth’s own fairly constant opinion of what was right or not in the matter of dress. They had debated the merits of a new primrose-yellow silk gown against an equally new and fashionable rose damask and the former had won the day, a decision helped considerably by Mr Darcy, who had returned from his London bank with a cache of his late mother’s jewellery that he presented to his wife as her own. Among the treasures were some fine emeralds, set into a necklace and matching earrings. Kitty was in raptures.
‘Lizzy! You must wear these!’ she exclaimed, holding the earrings up to her ears and looking at herself from various angles in the glass. ‘I never saw such splendid stones, look how they sparkle! They are perfect for your dark hair and that yellow silk. Try them now, I cannot wait.’
Elizabeth obliged and had to admit that large and glittering emeralds really should be a part of every woman’s wardrobe; she did not understand how she had not known this before. Her thoughts went to the portrait of Lady Anne Darcy, her husband’s mother, which was hanging in the gallery at Pemberley. She had worn these emeralds for that painting. ‘And these,’ demanded Kitty, putting into Lizzy’s hair two small ivory combs, embedded with smaller emeralds and diamonds, and standing back to admire the effect. ‘You will be Cinderella to Prince Charming. All eyes will be upon you,’ said she, admiringly.
‘Well I have no intention of turning into a shoeless beggar at midnight,’ retorted Elizabeth, ‘but you are playing a very good Fairy G
odmother. Now help me rearrange these combs, I think they could be better positioned.’
‘Oh, Lizzy! You have such beautiful jewels. I would die for one bracelet or one necklace such as these.’ Kitty placed a ruby pendant around her neck and matching bracelets on her arm, and skipped around the room presenting her hand to imaginary suitors. ‘Oh, my dear Lord Whoever-You-Are. I am much obliged to you but I cannot dance the next two with you, my card is quite full! Oh Sir Somebody, my deepest regrets.’
‘I think you would enjoy this evening more than I,’ said Elizabeth, smiling at Kitty’s charades. ‘I suppose there may be plenty who would like to see me fall, although I shall not give them that pleasure. Indeed, why should I?’
‘Lizzy, they will have to be pleasant to you! You look beautiful, you have always been a ready wit, and you are sparkling within and without…’
‘You sound just like Mr Darcy!’ interrupted Elizabeth.
‘… and you have a handsome and rich husband, who adores you! Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Really, Lizzy, you will be the belle of the ball. I insist!’
‘Well this is a reversal, is it not?’ said her sister, laughing. ‘You giving me advice! There is hope for us all!’ She was looking at Kitty’s reflection in the mirror as she said it, and realised, for the first time, that her sister was becoming different – and much improved – now that she was deprived of Lydia’s company and influence.
‘But thank you, dear Kitty,’ she continued, in a softer tone. ‘I will endeavour to look and do exactly as you say. Now, give me back those bracelets and the necklace so I can stow them safely. I had best not lose them within an hour of receiving them!’
With a show of distress, Kitty handed them back. ‘I must return to Brook Street. I will tell Jane how fine you look and we shall both expect you at the house in the morning so that you can tell us how great and grand your husband’s circle is, and how well received you were.’
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