by Lory Lilian
“What do you mean, husband? Not Lady Cassandra? Then who was she?”
“Well, apparently a kinder, friendlier copy of her.” He sat upon his favourite chair after he poured himself a glass of his best brandy, carefully watching the effect his words had upon both ladies.
Elizabeth scrutinised her uncle closely while Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Gardiner, are you trying to vex us with your secretive attitude? It is far too early for games of this kind.”
“Well, Mrs. Gardiner, I suggest you use a more persuasive tone, or I shall not reveal what I discovered this very morning, both at my office and the club. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to keep it secret; I am ashamed to admit how much gossip has reached my ears in such a short time. Most of it came from a group of the most honourable gentlemen in Town. In fact, I almost felt as if I had been listening to Mrs. Long.” He hid a satisfied smile behind his glass while his wife sighed in exasperation. He was in high spirits, induced largely because the business that had kept him in Town seemed to be coming to a favourable conclusion. There was other news to be shared with his impatient companions, and he enjoyed himself, toying with their curiosity a bit longer.
“Uncle, do not try our patience too long! That is cruel, you know.”
Elizabeth had rested very little the previous night. She awoke in the morning with her eyes red and slightly swollen, and she had spent the next hours preparing both her appearance and her composure for the Darcys’ call. She found herself walking by the window and casting stolen glances outside. When a carriage stopped in front of the house and she heard the main door opening, she instantly rose from her seat, putting her needlework aside. Yet, her anxiety was hardly gratified when she discovered that it was only her uncle arriving. Then he seemed determined to test her patience and curiosity with a series of strange statements.
“Very well, ladies! You need not be so harsh with me. It seems that the honour of spending the evening in Mr. Darcy’s box did not go unnoticed. At least five persons—either clients or partners—mentioned it to me and asked me about it. Mr. Thornewill, a client of ten years, visited me today accompanied by his wife! That has never happened before, and I was quite shocked. Yet, I soon discovered that the reason for this astonishing visit was their curiosity for more details about our night at the theatre and our illustrious company.”
“Indeed? How strange…I realise the Darcys are well known in Town, but I never thought they could provoke such interest. They are not royalty, after all.” Mrs. Gardiner could not hide her displeasure at the idea of gossips having their way with the son and daughter of Lady Anne Darcy.
“No, they are not royalty. It may interest you to know it was not the Darcys who were the centre of everyone’s interest, but Lady Cassandra. It appears that Mrs. Thornewill’s brother, Lord Gordon, is the closest relative of Lady Cassandra. Better said, his wife is a cousin of Lady Cassandra’s late mother. Mrs. Thornewill did not waste any time relating to me that Lady Cassandra completely disobeyed Lord Gordon’s advice and left England four years ago precisely because of an enormous scandal relating to him. According to Mrs. Thornewill, Lady Cassandra’s behaviour kept London society entertained for many seasons as she publicly refused to accept the hand of the most eligible bachelor of the season.”
“Oh, come now, Mr. Gardiner! I have been married to you for thirteen years and have never known you to be such a gossip.” Mrs. Gardiner shook her head in displeasure and cast an exasperated glance at Elizabeth. However, Elizabeth’s curiosity defeated her propriety and common sense.
“I am not a gossip, my dear. Well…yes I am, but only with you. I scarcely spoke more than a word to Mrs. Thornewill. I only tried to disagree when she harshly criticised Lady Cassandra’s manners and character, but I had not the slightest chance to finish even a sentence. When I finally managed to say how delighted we had been with her ladyship’s kind politeness, she told me I had most likely not met the real Lady Cassandra who was presumably the worst type of shrew.
“Oh please…This is entirely unacceptable! No matter how many earls Mrs. Thornewill might have as brothers, she has no right to talk in that fashion to you, a complete stranger. I hope there is nothing more you want to tell us about the subject.”
“Well, actually there is—as I received the whole of Lady Cassandra’s biography in less than ten minutes. But I do not want to upset you, my dear, so I shall stop here.”
“Oh please, Uncle, do not stop!” Elizabeth’s voice sounded pleading and oddly serious in a conversation that should have been interpreted as humorous. Mr. Gardiner decided to indulge her inquiry but not before some gentle teasing about her newly discovered tendency to gossip. He even went so far as to remark upon her resemblance to Mrs. Bennet and Mrs. Long.
“Very well then, let me tell you what I have found out. Both of Lady Cassandra’s parents belonged to well-known, titled families. Her mother, Lady Lavinia Russell, passed away ten years ago and her father, Lord George John Russell, three years later. She was left with a splendid inheritance, including a large estate in the North which, Mrs. Thornewill assured me, had been terribly neglected.” At this, Mr. Gardiner smiled ironically, and his wife only rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation.
“She has no other close relatives except those of Lord Gordon’s wife with whom she was not on friendly terms,” continued Mr. Gardiner. “Apparently, Lady Cassandra’s parents had been old and very close friends with Lady Anne and the late Mr. Darcy; after her father’s death, she spent much of her time at Pemberley rather than relying upon the protection of her own relatives. Mrs. Thornewill seemed quite put out by this situation, which she believes was highly improper.”
“So, is there more? You have told me enough to fill an entire novel already. I imagine Mrs. Thornewill spent all her morning in your company.”
“Yes, there is more! And you will be surprised to find that Mrs. Thornewill told me the entire story in less than an hour.”
“Please continue, Uncle, if there is more for us to hear.”
“Well, it was precisely after the late Mr. Darcy’s death that Lord Gordon decided it was time for the family to intervene—on Lady Cassandra’s behalf, of course—and to convince her to settle down and have her own family. According to Mrs. Thornewill, she was already in great danger of remaining a spinster as she was already two and twenty.”
Both Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner gasped at that statement, much to Mr. Gardiner’s amusement. He continued, pleased to see how intrigued his wife and niece were; at least all that wasted time—as Mrs. Thornewill toyed with his nerves and patience for an hour—ultimately had been worthwhile.
“However, Lady Cassandra would have none of their interference. She had refused the most advantageous marriage arrangement, and she refused it publicly at a ball after having a very noticeable fight with Lord Gordon. Everyone in Town was appalled by her outrageous behaviour; Mrs. Thornewill was certain of that. A couple of days later, she left Town and then the country without a word to anyone. It appears that her return now is as much a shock as was her leaving four years ago. Again, she informed no one of her plans, nor did she meet with her relatives though they learned she has been in Town for nearly a month.”
“I am sure she informed Mr. and Miss Darcy of her plans to return,” said Elizabeth, trying to understand what she had been told.
Mrs. Gardiner attempted to deflect the topic of conversation. “Yes, she most surely did. As for Mrs. Thornewill and Lord Gordon, I think I have heard enough about them. Would you not agree?”
“Did she tell you the identity of the most eligible gentleman?”
“No she did not, Lizzy, and I surely did not consider asking. I was afraid she would not end her story before noon, so I did everything I could not to engage her further. However, if you are still curious, I believe I can arrange a private meeting for you with the lady.”
Mr. Gardiner’s amusement grew, but Elizabeth remained lost in her thoughts. It was clear to her that the gentlema
n who was meant to marry Lady Cassandra could not have been Mr. Darcy. The first question that bothered her was why Lady Cassandra, if they were on such familiar terms, did not marry Mr. Darcy? Could he have been the reason for her refusal to marry the other gentleman and for leaving the country? But why would she go so far away? Even if her relatives were somehow opposed to a marriage with Darcy, she was of age and did not need their approval. And what was the reason behind her sudden return? She and Mr. Darcy seemed quite intimate, but he had made her, Elizabeth, an offer of marriage only two months earlier—so there could be no understanding between them. Yet, Lady Cassandra had returned a month after Hunsford, and somehow, Elizabeth was certain she was not unaware of Mr. Darcy’s proposal. Was this the precise reason for her return? Did the notion that he could marry another woman compel her back to London?
Her head was spinning, and she was unconsciously playing with her needlework as she struggled to understand this latest quandary. When the servant announced Mr. and Miss Darcy, she startled so violently that she dropped her needle and sampler on the floor.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner hurried to greet their guests, and a few moments later, Elizabeth found herself curtsying to the Darcys.
Miss Darcy took a place on the settee near Elizabeth while Mr. Darcy chose to sit across the room, close to Mr. Gardiner. His gaze rested upon Elizabeth, and she turned her eyes to meet his for only a moment. Nevertheless, she continued to feel his eyes upon her as she spoke with Miss Darcy and expressed delight in seeing her again.
Tea and refreshments were ordered, and a few moments passed in relative silence with only polite exchanges and smiles as each of them tried to become accustomed to one another’s company. Even Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, usually easy in any group and exceedingly pleased with the Darcys’ visit, seemed at a loss for the proper words to begin an easy conversation.
“Mrs. Gardiner, Mr. Gardiner, you have a very comfortable home.” Mr. Darcy was the first to speak, his warm and friendly voice drawing Elizabeth’s eyes toward him again.
Certainly, the Gardiner’s house could not be compared to Mr. Darcy’s, yet Mrs. Gardiner took tremendous pride in her home, and Mr. Darcy’s compliment gave her great pleasure.
Elizabeth was grateful to him once again for his attentiveness toward her relatives, and she allowed her gratitude to shine in the smile that brightened her face. When their eyes met again, he seemed surprised at first, but then his face instantly lightened and he returned her smile.
Mrs. Gardiner thanked both Mr. and Miss Darcy—who had joined her brother in expressing her delight with the house—and thus the conversation began tentatively but soon grew more animated.
Elizabeth struggled not to look at Mr. Darcy too often but with little success.
Miss Darcy’s shyness and Mr. Darcy’s reticence soon vanished. Mr. Darcy was not as jovial as the colonel was and likely never would be, but he was polite, even friendly, or at least he was trying to be. He obviously was taking the trouble of practicing more, as she had advised him earlier at Rosings. A smile twisted her lips while their conversation came to her mind again. “I certainly have not the talent which some people possess of conversing easily with those I have never seen before…”
Deeply immersed in her memories, Elizabeth attempted to recompose herself when the servants entered with refreshments. Only then did she notice that her eyes had unconsciously been fixed again in Mr. Darcy’s direction and that he was staring back at her with a puzzled expression on his face. I have made such a fool of myself, was the only thing she could think of before taking the cup of tea with trembling hands.
“Miss Darcy, would you like some more tea?” Still not completely restored, Elizabeth realised that Miss Darcy was holding an empty cup in her hand and looking between them without daring to join the conversation.
“Yes please, thank you,” answered the young lady with a tentative smile. Elizabeth rose from her seat and then turned to her brother. “Mr. Darcy, may I offer you some tea, as well, or some coffee?”
“Or perhaps you could join me in the library for a glass of wine, sir?” offered Mr. Gardiner. “That is…if you are not in a hurry. I would not want to detain you from other appointments.”
“Not at all, sir. Fortunately, we have nothing scheduled until later this evening. I would be delighted to see your library, and yes, a glass of wine would be splendid.”
“Excellent!”
Once the door closed behind the gentlemen, the conversation among the ladies continued in a more animated manner.
“Miss Darcy, your visit is a pleasure as well as an honour for us. I imagine how busy you must be and how many engagements you must have.”
“Oh…not so many engagements. We wanted to come yesterday, but we had prior plans with Cassandra that occupied us the entire morning. My brother said we would not have time to visit you for more than half an hour; we did not want to call in haste, so we preferred to wait another day.”
“Is Lady Cassandra a relative of yours?” Elizabeth knew she had no right to question her guest, but she could not restrain her curiosity, especially when Miss Darcy seemed inclined to pursue that particular topic.
“No, she is not a relative, but she has been a friend of ours for many years. For as long as I can remember, Cassandra has been a part of our lives. I love her as dearly as I would a sister, and I hope she will never leave again.”
“Lady Cassandra seems to be a wonderful person,” offered Mrs. Gardiner. “It was a pleasure for us to have made her acquaintance last evening.”
“Yes, she is wonderful; both William and I are very happy to have her here, and I can assure you that she was very pleased to meet you, too. She confessed that she enjoyed your company very much.”
“I am happy to hear that. Are you planning to remain in town long?”
“No, Mrs. Gardiner. We plan to leave town for Pemberley in a fortnight. My brother has invited Lady Cassandra as well as Mr. Bingley and his family to join us. You are familiar with the Bingleys?”
“No, we are not,” answered Mrs. Gardiner. “By the time we arrived in Hertfordshire, Mr. Bingley and his family had left Netherfield.”
“Mr. Bingley is a friend of my brother. He is very amiable and kind.”
“Yes, he is,” agreed Elizabeth, though her thoughts about the “amiable and kind” gentleman who so hurriedly abandoned his happiness and Jane’s were not entirely cordial.
The gentlemen’s entrance and their animated voices interrupted their conversation. Elizabeth’s eyes were instantly drawn toward Mr. Darcy, and she saw him looking as good humoured as was Mr. Gardiner, that small smile never leaving his face.
“We decided not to be separated from your charming company for too long, ladies. I hope we are not intruding,” said Mr. Gardiner.
“No, not at all. We were talking about leaving London in the near future, and Miss Darcy was just telling us that your family planned to depart for Pemberley very soon.”
“Indeed we are, Mrs. Gardiner, and it is quite a coincidence that Mr. Gardiner and I were discussing the same subject. In fact, I asked him if you intended to visit Lambton during your tour.”
“We have not planned our travelling agenda in detail as it largely depends on my husband’s business. But I would like to see Lambton again as I have not been in the area for quite some time,” answered Mrs. Gardiner.
“As I mentioned to Mr. Gardiner, if you will be in the area, I hope you will inform us of your presence. It would be a pleasure to have you all as our guests at Pemberley. Mr. Gardiner and I just discovered that we share a passion for fishing.”
Elizabeth’s astonishment was great, and she looked at Darcy in disbelief. Had he just invited the Gardiners to Pemberley? This could not be; she must have misunderstood him. His words
“. . . relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own…” instantly resounded in her memory.
Yet, his invitation was clear, and no misunderstanding could be applied to it. But what cou
ld be the reason for such extraordinary civility? This time it was not Miss Darcy who initiated the overture; rather, his will and desire prompted an insistent request for their presence at Pemberley and for Mr. Gardiner’s company while fishing.
“Well, sir, if we are in the area and will not be intruding upon your privacy, of course, it would be an honour for us to visit you at Pemberley,” answered Mrs. Gardiner with no little emotion.
“Excellent! Then it is settled—if you happen to be in the area, I mean.”
Elizabeth dared a quick glance at Mr. Darcy and once more was surprised to see the expression of delight upon his face as he smiled at her. She was too overwhelmed by emotion to say more than a few polite words, consumed by both the excitement and the dread of actually being invited to Pemberley and shocked to see Mr. and Miss Darcy excited at the prospect.
The conversation continued for another quarter hour until the guests prepared to leave. As they made their goodbyes, Miss Darcy invited both Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner to join her for tea on one of the following days, and her invitation was accepted without hesitation. Throughout their visit that afternoon, Elizabeth was able to ascertain that both Darcys seemed to be taking an interest in her. While she dared not admit the reason for their kindness, she was pleased to notice it. Gone was most of the awkwardness that had gripped her whenever she was in their company.
Her aunt and uncle showed the guests out. Before they reached their carriage, Mr. Darcy bowed to the ladies with perfect politeness, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth’s, and then joined his sister in the carriage. Miss Darcy waved her delicate hand at Elizabeth as the horses moved off, and she responded with a wave of her own—but her gesture was meant for both Miss Darcy and her brother.
***
Elizabeth spent the rest of the time before dinner in her room, lost in contemplation of everything that had occurred.