A Matchmaking Mother

by Jann Rowland

  “There you are incorrect,” replied Darcy, trying to inform her through his earnest reply that he was telling her nothing but the truth. “There are, perhaps, others who play with better technical proficiency than you, but you play with such a feel for the music that I think there are few who could disapprove.”

  After a moment of searching his eyes, Miss Elizabeth seemed to understand he spoke the truth, and she thanked him, though not without a little self-consciousness. Knowing it would not do to praise her to excess, lest she suspect him, Darcy decided to change the subject.

  “The music you were just now playing—was it Mozart?”

  “A sonatina by Clementi, actually,” replied Miss Elizabeth. “Their styles are sometimes considered similar, though a true proficient like your sister would not have made such a mistake.”

  “I think we have covered the fact that I am not a proficient, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Which is why I shall allow your lapse for the moment,” replied she.

  The silliness of the conversation induced them to laugh, and Darcy felt the cares of the world and his previous reflections melt away at the sound of her joy. Eager to continue the conversation between them, Darcy turned the subject to her preferences, asking:

  “Do you find the works of Clementi pleasing, Miss Bennet?”

  “Some, yes, though I would not call him a favorite.” She smiled and added: “As I understand he considers England to be his home, I would find myself privileged to hear him play in person one day. But I appreciate the skills of many composers: Mozart and Beethoven, and Haydn and Scarlatti, to name a few. Your sister has convinced me of the wonders of Bach, though I had never heard of him before coming to London.”

  “Ah, yes,” replied Darcy with a nod. “I have often heard my sister and my mother speak of Bach. Though I understand he was once considered to be a true master, his popularity has waned in recent years.”

  “Such that it is the true musicians who know of him,” agreed Miss Elizabeth. “Many of his works I find beyond my level of skill, but I do appreciate his music for its genius.”

  They spent some time in the music room discussing their various likes and dislikes, with respect to composers, and musical forms and instruments. Darcy discovered Miss Elizabeth was knowledgeable, and that she loved the pianoforte, but appreciated many chamber styles as well. The opera was not to her taste, though she claimed to like certain works better than others, and she appreciated being in London, for it allowed her greater opportunity to hear music played with skill than she could experience in Hertfordshire. It was when the discussion was becoming interesting that they were interrupted by a most unwelcome source.

  “Darcy!” boomed the voice of his aunt. “What are you doing in here alone with Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Lady Catherine,” said Darcy in greeting, rising to bow, noting Miss Elizabeth’s curtsey at the same time. “Miss Elizabeth and I were discussing music, for I came upon her when she was playing the pianoforte.”

  The virago’s gimlet eye fell upon Miss Elizabeth for some moments before his aunt sniffed and said: “If Miss Elizabeth attended to her practice more often, she might not play amiss. Unfortunately, she has not the taste that Anne possesses, which is not something that may be taught. Now, attend me, Darcy, for Anne expressed a desire to see you today.”

  Privately, Darcy doubted Anne had made any such declaration. More likely, she had made some comment and Lady Catherine had interpreted it—or expanded on its meaning—to convince herself her daughter was desperate to be in his company. Feeling resigned to their interesting tête-à-tête coming to an end, Darcy offered his aunt his arm and led her from the room. The thought made itself known, though it remained at the back of his mind, that the prospect of marrying Anne was losing its appeal. It always did when Darcy was in the company of his aunt.

  “Miss Elizabeth Bennet!”

  The voice, so close by when Elizabeth had not expected it, caused her to jump in surprise. Looking up, she noted Lady Catherine presence, as the woman stood over where she was speaking with Mr. Darcy, an expression of extreme displeasure etched upon her severe countenance.

  “It seems to me you have forgotten your place, Miss Elizabeth, for it is clear to me you are attempting to distract my nephew from his duty.”

  “I am afraid I do not know—”

  “Silence, and allow me to speak,” interrupted Lady Catherine. “Since I found you alone with him in the music room three days ago, I have watched you, have seen the arts and allurements you deploy to attempt to capture my nephew. I will not have it, young lady. Darcy will never debase himself to offer for one such as you!”

  “I have never attempted to distract Mr. Darcy from his duty, or from anything else,” said Elizabeth, recognizing the tight note of anger in her own voice.

  “If you will recall, I approached her, Aunt,” said Mr. Darcy.

  “Please do not berate my guest, Catherine,” added Lady Anne, bringing her sister up short. “Elizabeth has not behaved improperly—and I will remind you again that nothing is decided, and I would thank you not to speak in a way which makes the engagement you wish for to appear a fait accompli.”

  Again, as had already happened several times, Elizabeth was treated to the sight of Lady Catherine swallowing her tongue. It was obvious the lady wished to snap a reply, but equally obvious she did not wish to offend her sister.

  “Yes, well I know it will be decided soon enough.” Her gaze swung back to Elizabeth. “Remember your place, Miss Elizabeth, and we shall not be at odds.”

  Then the lady stalked off, calling to her daughter to sit near Mr. Darcy and watching Elizabeth for as long as she was present. In truth, Elizabeth was becoming more than a little annoyed with the woman. Several days before, Mr. Darcy had begun to speak to her, his manner becoming less severe, his conversation more interesting. Elizabeth did not know what prompted this change and could only assume his growing comfort with her and Jane had allowed him to relax.

  This change had not come without consequences, however, for whenever they were in company, Lady Catherine would watch them, her comments becoming more pointed the longer he persisted. That day had been the first time she had spoken in so severe a manner, but Elizabeth knew her reprimands would grow worse the longer the situation continued.

  It was thus fortunate that Mr. Darcy recognized the problem and allowed a distance to spring up between them—or he did so when Lady Catherine was present. When she was not, his increased civility continued, and Elizabeth began to understand the gentleman more than she had ever thought possible.

  Elizabeth was not the only one who drew Lady Catherine’s ire. The lady would direct it at any young woman she deemed too close to Mr. Darcy—anyone with whom he shared even a few words. An amusing illustration of this occurred a few days after her first explicit words of warning to Elizabeth.

  Though the Bennet sisters had now been in London for more than six weeks, there were still many to whom they had not been introduced, despite the fact that Elizabeth had by now met so many people, she could not possibly remember them all. Lady Susan and Lord Matlock had been a constant presence, though their schedules did not always coincide. On the day in question, Lady Susan planned for a large dinner party, and the residents of Darcy house were invited.

  At dinner, Elizabeth and Jane were seated together, and neither was situated close to anyone of their party. Even so, Elizabeth found enjoyment in the evening, for there were always new people to meet and characters to study. After dinner, when the company retired to the house’s sitting-room, Lady Catherine’s irascible nature once again made itself known.

  “Come, Miss Bennet,” said Mr. Bingley, making his way to Jane as soon as the gentlemen rejoined the ladies. “Let us sit together and speak for a time.”

  Jane, as always, went willingly, her preference for Mr. Bingley’s company as clear as ever. There were several other men who approached to strike up conversations with her, and while Mr. Bingley endured it, it was clear
he was not happy with their interruptions. Elizabeth’s amusement at the situation did not go unnoticed.

  “It seems you are enjoying my friend’s annoyance, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy.

  As she always did when Mr. Darcy approached her where Lady Catherine might see, she darted a look at the lady, noting some of the other matrons who were like her in character had distracted her. Thus assured a short conversation could proceed without her interference, Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy.

  “I am not so much enjoying it, Mr. Darcy. But Jane is often the center of attention wherever she goes, and it is no surprise to me there are men in attendance who wish to speak with her.”

  Mr. Darcy peered at them for several moments, his manner grave, and Elizabeth wondered what he was thinking. For a time, Elizabeth thought he would not speak, but then he turned to her, as solemn as she had ever seen him.

  “Though I would never accuse your sister of acting improperly, I wonder at her level of interest in my friend. Bingley’s affections are obvious, but Miss Bennet does not seem to receive him with any more emotion than those other men who seek to interrupt them.”

  For a moment, Elizabeth was tempted to snap back at him, but she mastered her pique. “To one who does not know Jane well, I am not surprised her affections would be difficult to discern. I would tell you, however, to look closer, Mr. Darcy, for her character is, in many respects, similar to your own.”

  His countenance lightening a little, Mr. Darcy fixed her with a curious look. “That she is reticent is clear. Are you suggesting she holds my friend in esteem?”

  “I will not presume to speak for my sister, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “However, I would have you know that if she did not favor him, she would let him know, though, again, she would do so with tact and discretion. Should he misread her feelings, she would never accept an offer of marriage or even courtship if she felt she could not esteem him as a woman ought to esteem her husband.”

  The pause this time was much longer, as Mr. Darcy watched Jane and Mr. Bingley, his eyes sharp and inquisitive. When he turned back to her, Elizabeth could sense he was more at ease after hearing her assurances.

  “I hope you will attribute my interest in the matter to a sincere desire to ensure my friend finds his happiness.”

  “As I hope you will credit my motives to be identical regarding my sister.”

  “Then we are agreed, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Darcy.

  At that moment Elizabeth noted Lady Catherine watching and could see Mr. Darcy had become aware of the same. Though they did not separate at once, by unspoken agreement they allowed a distance to grow in between them. It did not placate Lady Catherine to any great degree, for her suspicion remained unabated. At least she did not make a scene. Or she did not when Elizabeth spoke with Mr. Darcy.

  At any such event when she was present, Miss Bingley did her best to garner Mr. Darcy’s attention. This was fraught with danger, as Elizabeth had cause to know, even when a woman was not intending to tempt Mr. Darcy. That Miss Bingley most assuredly was, and yet Lady Catherine had not seen fit to reprimand her, Elizabeth attributed to the lady’s surety that her nephew would never do something so crass as to offer for the daughter of a tradesman. It seemed Miss Bingley’s actions were so overt that evening, however, that Lady Catherine could not ignore them. As Elizabeth was still situated nearby, she was close enough to hear Lady Catherine’s reprimand.

  “What a lovely evening this is, Mr. Darcy,” exclaimed the woman, filling the space where Elizabeth had stood only a few moments before. “How lovely it is to make your aunt’s acquaintance at last and to be invited to an intimate dinner at her house!”

  If it was an intimate dinner, Elizabeth would liked to have known what a large one would be like—there were, by her count, over forty people in attendance! It was unfortunate for Miss Bingley, but her statement elicited little response from the gentleman, as was usual.

  “It is not so intimate,” said Mr. Darcy, echoing Elizabeth’s thoughts. “I am convinced it could not be termed so with more than half the present number, and most of those in the room replaced by extended family or intimate acquaintances.”

  Miss Bingley frowned at the way Mr. Darcy so easily rejected her claims of familiarity with his family, but it did not deter her. “Yes, well, I suppose there are some here who could not be called intimate.” In the next moment, Elizabeth felt the heat of Miss Bingley’s eyes on her back and knew the woman was glaring at her. “Our closeness has suffered to some extent, given those . . . undesirable elements who have latched onto your mother’s train.”

  “Nothing could be further from the truth,” replied Mr. Darcy. “My mother and sister have enjoyed our company, and I have not objected to their presence either.”

  The soft huff of exasperation which reached Elizabeth’s ears attested to Miss Bingley’s annoyance. “Well, be that as it may, our own intimacy seems to be increasing, and for that, I am well pleased.” Miss Bingley paused as if expecting some response, and when none was forthcoming, she said: “Are you to attend the Davidson ball next week?”

  “I would imagine we shall, given Davidson is a longstanding friend.”

  “Yes, well, I believe we shall attend too. Mr. Davidson and his wife are particular friends, you understand, for better or more elegant people cannot be found. Shall you anticipate it as much as I?”

  “No more so than any other ball, Miss Bingley, which, as you know, is not my favorite pastime. Though I am not opposed to an evening in company with friends, I always find a ball to be tedious.”

  “Oh, I cannot disagree, Mr. Darcy!” exclaimed Miss Bingley. “As you know, I have often said conversation would be a more rational way to spend such an evening.”

  “Yes, I remember your opinion. I shall only observe, as your sister did on that occasion, that it may be more rational, but not nearly so much like a ball.”

  “I suppose not. However, I will observe, Mr. Darcy, that should you find the proper partner to pair for a dance, the evening would not seem so tedious.”

  It was all Elizabeth could do not to laugh out loud at the blatant suggestion that Mr. Darcy ask her for a dance—the first dance, no doubt—at a ball which was still a week distant. There was another who had moved nearby, and while she understood Miss Bingley’s purpose as well as had Elizabeth, she was not so amused by it.

  “For perhaps the first time in our acquaintance, I agree with you, Miss Bingley.”

  Elizabeth had moved to a position where she could just see the conversation out of the corner of her eye, and thus witnessed Miss Bingley’s start of surprise at the lady’s nearness. Lady Catherine, however, was not about to allow her to respond.

  “And for the proper partner, it is obvious my daughter is the perfect option, for not only is she his cousin, she is . . .” Lady Catherine trailed off, and Elizabeth noted Mr. Darcy’s stony visage, warning her to desist. Though with evident ill grace, Lady Catherine refrained, finishing her sentence by saying: “Yes, well, Darcy should choose someone who would complement him in every way, not only in lineage and wealth but in compatibility, shared admiration, not to mention the wishes of his family.”

  Again, Elizabeth held in her hilarity, as Mr. Darcy shook his head at his aunt’s transparent suggestion—if suggestion it was and not a demand. Lady Catherine, however, was not finished with Miss Bingley.

  “Let me warn you, Miss Bingley,” said Lady Catherine, leaning in close to the lady, though her voice was no more a whisper than if she had put a trumpet to her mouth. “My nephew is not for you, so you had best cease your attempts to draw him in. Why you are wasting your time is beyond me, for you are no more suitable to be his bride than Miss Elizabeth. At least she possesses the ancestry to lay claim to the title of gentleman’s daughter, something of which you have no claim. Do not seek to rise above your station, for it will go ill with you.”

  “I believe that will do, Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Darcy, while Miss Bingley looked down in utter mortifi
cation.

  Lady Catherine directed a critical gaze at Miss Bingley and nodded once. “Yes, you are correct.”

  Then she turned and walked away without another word or a second glance. Miss Bingley was far too embarrassed to say anything further, and she took herself away, appearing as if she wished to sink into the floor. A quick glance around the room informed Elizabeth that she was likely to escape infamy, for the confrontation appeared to have gone unnoticed.

  For Mr. Darcy’s part, he passed the rest of the evening in seeming annoyance, though Elizabeth caught his eye on more than one occasion. Those times, she smiled and shook her head, inducing him to respond with more wryness than she thought he felt. Lady Catherine was a meddling, persistent sort of woman, and Elizabeth had long determined the best way to deal with her was to allow the feeling of amusement at her antics. It was clear Mr. Darcy had not yet come to the same conclusion, but she hoped he would before long.

  Chapter X

  Margaret Bennet possessed the curious ability to take any situation, say something inappropriate and improper, embarrass her daughters, and make what should be a happy time into one anxious and mortifying. That she did not mean to cause such trouble was something Elizabeth understood. Mrs. Bennet could be a loving woman when she so chose. The worries of the entail, having five daughters of little dowry and few prospects often overwhelmed what little sense with which she was blessed, and her opinions concerning the best ways to attract husbands and her lack of understanding of proper behavior did not make matters any better.

  If one observed the presence of the Bennet sisters in London, coupled with their mother’s continued residence in Hertfordshire, the witness would be excused for assuming there was little she could do to discomfit said daughters. Sensible as they were of their mother’s limitations, Elizabeth had little desire to endure her mother ruining the friendships forming between herself and those with whom she stayed in London. Unfortunately, a letter that arrived the day after the dinner threatened to do just that.