CHAPTER THREE
"May I call you by your first name?" said Lord Gosford after a while.
I looked at him, surprised. "I hardly think it proper, sir. I am trying most fervently to be proper and not an embarrassment to my sister, and I have only just met you."
He sighed. "In other words, no. What a lot of breath you could have saved by being impolite and abrupt."
I giggled. "Yes, that's true, and so here is my answer: no."
"Well, I must acknowledge you are probably wise to reply in that fashion," he said, smiling at me. "There will be enough gossip at my talking to you here, before I even know you properly, without the addition of my calling you by your Christian name." As I looked worried, he continued. "Oh, don't worry your pretty head about it, gossip of this sort always happens whenever I am around, and depend upon it, they will gossip more of me than of you. Small-town England necessarily lives and breathes and survives on gossip."
I laughed again. "I think that is taking it a little far, sir. The structure of the economy may have a small part to play in the existence of a town, and so might the beauties of the surrounding area, and the virtues of its water, and things like that."
"Ah, but the economy relies upon women meeting in the general store to gossip! And the beauties of the surrounding only play a part in that lovers take walks through them and provoke gossip! And what was your other argument? Ah! – the water. Miss Bennet, the good water of a town will only bring people to it that others can gossip about! You see, Miss Bennet, everything relies on gossip."
"You are ridiculous," I replied, my nose in the air. "I am persuaded you are just being contrary in order to argue, not because you believe it any sense at all."
Now he laughed. "You may be right there, Miss Bennet, but at this particular moment I believe it with all my heart. Perhaps after an hour's reflection I will decide the continued existence of a small town relies upon the success of the farmers. And then I will discover that it relies upon the fashions of the time. It does not take much to change any man's beliefs, Miss Bennet, and I am no different to any man."
"Now that I certainly cannot agree with," I said, smiling still, but serious. "Any man with strong beliefs does not just change them on an hour's reflection. If he sees they could be wrong, he will look into it for a very long period; he will reflect; he will study; he will ask the advice and opinions of those superior to him. Maybe once he has proved his previous beliefs wrong without a doubt, he will change them, but usually a man has confidence in any belief that is felt so strongly and he will not change at a moment's notice."
"Upon my word, Miss Bennet," he said, "you are very thoughtful on this! Maybe you should become a clergyman."
I smiled. "Well, Mr Wakefield is quite proof of my feelings. You listened to his sermon today; you must have seen his eloquence and his fervour and his conviction. Do you think he would just out of the blue change his beliefs if a friend told him an angel had truly come down from heaven to warn him that he was following the wrong path? No, of course not. He would look for proof and still would not doubt his own path. A rather unrealistic scenario, perhaps, but you must have seen him. He would not falter."
Lord Gosford was frowning, and I was perplexed. Why did everyone frown whenever I talked of Mr Wakefield? Not everyone, of course, as of that time I had spoken of him only to this man and to Sir Thomas. "Miss Bennet," he said, "I wonder have you been on any expeditions around Derbyshire yet? No, of course you will not have had time to yet. Maybe we should organise a pleasure-bent party to show you some of the sights."
Again, a changed subject! I did not understand it, and I still do not. But I let it go, and quietly replied, "No, I have not done any exploring. My brother-in-law talks of an expedition to a particular forest at some point – the name of it escapes me now, but Mr Darcy thinks it very beautiful, and Lizzy promises it is enchanted. I would be very eager to discover more of Derbyshire at any time."
He was smiling again now; my brief sermon was forgotten. "I know a wonderful spot on Falconhurst Hill; a lake, and caves. It would be a most promising picnic spot. We must organise an outing. I daresay many would be pleased to come; I am sure even Julian Montgomery would bestir himself. There would be you, and Miss Darcy, Miss Brandon and Miss Tait. And I, of course, you could hardly not invite me when the idea was mine!"
I smiled. "Oh, what a disappointment."
"Yes," he said, "I am aware it is very difficult for you to suffer my company, but in this case, it would be only polite, I am afraid."
"Then I suppose you may come."
"And we must invite my great friend Archibald Walters," he said mischievously. "A more handsome, amusing man I do not know."
"Now that is rude, sir."
"I am sorry," he said, repenting slightly. And he listed the names of all the young or single people at the dinner party, except for Mr Wakefield, who I reminded him of. He had forgotten him by mistake. "And another group outing we could have would be riding, through Benson Woods. They are delightful, and we could pick wild blackberries and eat them. It would be wonderful."
Lizzy came up to me at this point; we were off to Pemberley. Lord Gosford gallantly escorted me to our carriage. "I will have to start organising this outing," he said. "I declare I am looking forward to it already. I will call around to Pemberley another day to speak to you of it, and to Mrs Darcy, and we can arrange everything. It will be superb."
I am still quite bemused how it is that men always change the subject when I talk about Mr Wakefield. I do not know why it is.
Monday April 6
Everything is organised for a picnic and outing. Lord Gosford came around today and persuaded Elizabeth to allow a picnic – she didn't take much persuading really, and she and Mr Darcy were invited too, as chaperons. She laughed and laughed at that – being very young herself, only just two-and- twenty. But she has decided she must not go, for the safety of her unborn baby, although she would most fervently love to go. And Mr Darcy will stay with her to comfort her feelings in being left behind. What a nice husband he must be to have. And so we are not going to have a chaperon, as we cannot think of anyone else who would be proper and who would want to. Alice's parents are of a comfortable frame of body and hate to climb hills, even little ones, and Lady Posy's guardian is much too lethargic to even think of. At least Sir Thomas is much older than the rest of us and can comfortably pass off as being our chaperon, if he is not too insulted by the idea. And so we are going on Thursday, and everyone we invited has agreed to come.
I went for a walk with Mr Darcy before dinner and found him most agreeable and disposed to open himself up and talk to me. I had thought we would be walking in silence and awkwardness, but he was most kind and thoughtful, and even funny at times. And do you know what? I had a part in his proposal, in a way!
"It was because you ran away to visit Maria Lucas that I had a chance to talk to Elizabeth," he said. "And I am eternally grateful for that!"
I laughed and laughed. "I am pleased you find me so obliging."
"Oh yes," he said, "it was the finest thing you had ever done, in my eyes."
"I am offended," I smiled. "If that is the finest thing I have ever done – going to visit Maria Lucas – I am truly sunk."
"Ah, but the finest thing you have ever done, in regards to helping me!" he said. "I did not mean to offend you."
Poor man, he thought he actually had offended me. "Mr Darcy, don't trouble yourself!" I protested. "It was a joke! I am not offended in the least." I think he is going to need still more Elizabeth before he is quite adept in recognising humour, even the mild sort. But he is, without a doubt, much less stiff than he used to be, and all in all, I like him very much. I'm sure that if he was not already married to my sister, and obviously so happy with her, and if he was not much too mature for me, I would fall madly in love with him and forget about all the Lord Gosfords and Sir Thomases and Mr Montgomerys and Mr Beaupays on the planet for he is very handsome, and certainly truly amiable indeed. He is the epitome of anyone's dream of a handsome knight. In this case the knight is my brother, and I am very proud of him.
In the evening, Mr Beaupays came by with a little bag Lizzy had dropped at church and forgotten. He is very attentive to details like that – it is actually quite amusing. He was extremely concerned that Lizzy had been without her accessory for a day, and then turned his attention to me. "Miss Bennet, I was most struck by your bonnet on Sunday, as I said before. I wonder, where did you purchase it?"
"I purchased the frame in a shop in Meryton," I smiled, waiting to see his reaction, "and I fashioned the ribbons and decoration myself."
He blinked. "Upon my word, I am astonished, Miss Bennet. You must have some skill in bonnet-making!"
"Oh, no," I said, "I have just been accustomed to fashion my own bonnets with my sister Lydia for a long time."
"That is quite amazing," he said, still unable to believe what he heard.
"I think you take it a little far, Mr Beaupays," I giggled.
"Well," he said, "Maybe I do, but I must confess I am amazed. You may have noticed."
I laughed again. "Yes, I did notice."
He got up. "I must leave now. My valet is awaiting me with a new suit, or so I hear. Oh, but Miss Bennet!" he said, clapping his hands together in a very fashionable way. "Will you consent to tell me what exact shade of blue is the ribbon on your bonnet over on that table?"
"I would if I knew, sir," I replied, "but I don't know."
"Oh, that is a pity," he replied smoothly. "Good day for now, in that case."
"Good day, Mr Beaupays."
Right now I am earnestly trying to decide which man I should choose. They all have good qualities. Mr Beaupays is very amusing and I don't doubt he would make a very useful husband. And I should like leading society and throwing dinner parties and balls frequently and so on. He has a defect though; he seems like he would never fall violently in love enough to stop talking about clothes.
Mr Montgomery, as I have said before, is very lazy – a definite defect. But he has a good sense of humour, something which I find invaluable in a man, and his laziness could suit me. I hate running around doing things energetically that I don't enjoy one bit. It seems to me to be such a waste of time, and so no doubt I would have a bond there with him. He is nice, too. So far, looking back on my journal, I have only mentioned his languor. But he is amiable, and he does think of others' feelings – whether he acts on them or not is another question.
Sir Thomas is much too old, of course, but I really don't see that as an insuperable obstacle. He looks so young that it would not really matter, and there are benefits in marrying an older man. But he is wonderful to flirt with, and he is very kind. Rich, too. Richer than Mr Montgomery, will probably stay rich whereas Mr Beaupays may end up running away to the Continent chased by debts, like Mr Brummell did, and just as rich as Lord Gosford. Generous too, which could be a problem, but when we are married I will see to it that he does not give away too much. That is, if we are married. Sometimes I get caught up on an idea and run wild with it and forget that it's not even close to settled yet. But there is something very tempting about the thought of marrying Sir Thomas. I am sure I should enjoy it very much.
And Lord Gosford is of course witty, handsome, rich, clever, amusing, and in his own way, kind. He doesn't stand nonsense. Which could be a good or a bad thing. Sometimes I am so nonsensical it makes me cringe. But marrying him would be good for me, in that case. The main problem I see with him is that he is the sort of man whom I could imagine getting bored. I don't know if I could trust him to stay true to me. That seems very old-fashioned nowadays; I know many society wives just turn a blind eye on their husbands' little strayings. But I could not; not if I was in love, and I don't understand why I could not. It always seemed to me that I was so much like Lydia, and Lydia would not care one little bit if Wickham strayed, as long as he came back home in the end. I must admit now then, that maybe I am not so much like Lydia as I thought. I have no desire to run away and elope, nor do I wish to marry a man who would be unfaithful to me. I am certain it would make me very unhappy.
But now I am straying, only from the subject. Of course it is silly to brand Lord Gosford as such a man! For goodness' sake! I hardly know him yet! And although he does seem very wicked sometimes, he does have a goodness about him, in a way, I think.
I wonder which one I will marry? For I am sure I will marry one of them. There is no doubt about that. I can see that they are all falling madly in love with me, especially, at this point, Sir Thomas. Mr Montgomery takes things so slowly that whatever happens in that quarter will be a long time coming. Lord Gosford likes me, I can tell, but he is careful too. And Mr Beaupays' heart is unlikely ever to be touched above the ordinary.
"May I call you by your first name?" said Lord Gosford after a while.
I looked at him, surprised. "I hardly think it proper, sir. I am trying most fervently to be proper and not an embarrassment to my sister, and I have only just met you."
He sighed. "In other words, no. What a lot of breath you could have saved by being impolite and abrupt."
I giggled. "Yes, that's true, and so here is my answer: no."
"Well, I must acknowledge you are probably wise to reply in that fashion," he said, smiling at me. "There will be enough gossip at my talking to you here, before I even know you properly, without the addition of my calling you by your Christian name." As I looked worried, he continued. "Oh, don't worry your pretty head about it, gossip of this sort always happens whenever I am around, and depend upon it, they will gossip more of me than of you. Small-town England necessarily lives and breathes and survives on gossip."
I laughed again. "I think that is taking it a little far, sir. The structure of the economy may have a small part to play in the existence of a town, and so might the beauties of the surrounding area, and the virtues of its water, and things like that."
"Ah, but the economy relies upon women meeting in the general store to gossip! And the beauties of the surrounding only play a part in that lovers take walks through them and provoke gossip! And what was your other argument? Ah! – the water. Miss Bennet, the good water of a town will only bring people to it that others can gossip about! You see, Miss Bennet, everything relies on gossip."
"You are ridiculous," I replied, my nose in the air. "I am persuaded you are just being contrary in order to argue, not because you believe it any sense at all."
Now he laughed. "You may be right there, Miss Bennet, but at this particular moment I believe it with all my heart. Perhaps after an hour's reflection I will decide the continued existence of a small town relies upon the success of the farmers. And then I will discover that it relies upon the fashions of the time. It does not take much to change any man's beliefs, Miss Bennet, and I am no different to any man."
"Now that I certainly cannot agree with," I said, smiling still, but serious. "Any man with strong beliefs does not just change them on an hour's reflection. If he sees they could be wrong, he will look into it for a very long period; he will reflect; he will study; he will ask the advice and opinions of those superior to him. Maybe once he has proved his previous beliefs wrong without a doubt, he will change them, but usually a man has confidence in any belief that is felt so strongly and he will not change at a moment's notice."
"Upon my word, Miss Bennet," he said, "you are very thoughtful on this! Maybe you should become a clergyman."
I smiled. "Well, Mr Wakefield is quite proof of my feelings. You listened to his sermon today; you must have seen his eloquence and his fervour and his conviction. Do you think he would just out of the blue change his beliefs if a friend told him an angel had truly come down from heaven to warn him that he was following the wrong path? No, of course not. He would look for proof and still would not doubt his own path. A rather unrealistic scenario, perhaps, but you must have seen him. He would not falter."
Lord Gosford was frowning, and I was perplexed. Why did everyone frown whenever I talked of Mr Wakefield? Not everyone, of course, as of that time I had spoken of him only to this man and to Sir Thomas. "Miss Bennet," he said, "I wonder have you been on any expeditions around Derbyshire yet? No, of course you will not have had time to yet. Maybe we should organise a pleasure-bent party to show you some of the sights."
Again, a changed subject! I did not understand it, and I still do not. But I let it go, and quietly replied, "No, I have not done any exploring. My brother-in-law talks of an expedition to a particular forest at some point – the name of it escapes me now, but Mr Darcy thinks it very beautiful, and Lizzy promises it is enchanted. I would be very eager to discover more of Derbyshire at any time."
He was smiling again now; my brief sermon was forgotten. "I know a wonderful spot on Falconhurst Hill; a lake, and caves. It would be a most promising picnic spot. We must organise an outing. I daresay many would be pleased to come; I am sure even Julian Montgomery would bestir himself. There would be you, and Miss Darcy, Miss Brandon and Miss Tait. And I, of course, you could hardly not invite me when the idea was mine!"
I smiled. "Oh, what a disappointment."
"Yes," he said, "I am aware it is very difficult for you to suffer my company, but in this case, it would be only polite, I am afraid."
"Then I suppose you may come."
"And we must invite my great friend Archibald Walters," he said mischievously. "A more handsome, amusing man I do not know."
"Now that is rude, sir."
"I am sorry," he said, repenting slightly. And he listed the names of all the young or single people at the dinner party, except for Mr Wakefield, who I reminded him of. He had forgotten him by mistake. "And another group outing we could have would be riding, through Benson Woods. They are delightful, and we could pick wild blackberries and eat them. It would be wonderful."
Lizzy came up to me at this point; we were off to Pemberley. Lord Gosford gallantly escorted me to our carriage. "I will have to start organising this outing," he said. "I declare I am looking forward to it already. I will call around to Pemberley another day to speak to you of it, and to Mrs Darcy, and we can arrange everything. It will be superb."
I am still quite bemused how it is that men always change the subject when I talk about Mr Wakefield. I do not know why it is.
Monday April 6
Everything is organised for a picnic and outing. Lord Gosford came around today and persuaded Elizabeth to allow a picnic – she didn't take much persuading really, and she and Mr Darcy were invited too, as chaperons. She laughed and laughed at that – being very young herself, only just two-and- twenty. But she has decided she must not go, for the safety of her unborn baby, although she would most fervently love to go. And Mr Darcy will stay with her to comfort her feelings in being left behind. What a nice husband he must be to have. And so we are not going to have a chaperon, as we cannot think of anyone else who would be proper and who would want to. Alice's parents are of a comfortable frame of body and hate to climb hills, even little ones, and Lady Posy's guardian is much too lethargic to even think of. At least Sir Thomas is much older than the rest of us and can comfortably pass off as being our chaperon, if he is not too insulted by the idea. And so we are going on Thursday, and everyone we invited has agreed to come.
I went for a walk with Mr Darcy before dinner and found him most agreeable and disposed to open himself up and talk to me. I had thought we would be walking in silence and awkwardness, but he was most kind and thoughtful, and even funny at times. And do you know what? I had a part in his proposal, in a way!
"It was because you ran away to visit Maria Lucas that I had a chance to talk to Elizabeth," he said. "And I am eternally grateful for that!"
I laughed and laughed. "I am pleased you find me so obliging."
"Oh yes," he said, "it was the finest thing you had ever done, in my eyes."
"I am offended," I smiled. "If that is the finest thing I have ever done – going to visit Maria Lucas – I am truly sunk."
"Ah, but the finest thing you have ever done, in regards to helping me!" he said. "I did not mean to offend you."
Poor man, he thought he actually had offended me. "Mr Darcy, don't trouble yourself!" I protested. "It was a joke! I am not offended in the least." I think he is going to need still more Elizabeth before he is quite adept in recognising humour, even the mild sort. But he is, without a doubt, much less stiff than he used to be, and all in all, I like him very much. I'm sure that if he was not already married to my sister, and obviously so happy with her, and if he was not much too mature for me, I would fall madly in love with him and forget about all the Lord Gosfords and Sir Thomases and Mr Montgomerys and Mr Beaupays on the planet for he is very handsome, and certainly truly amiable indeed. He is the epitome of anyone's dream of a handsome knight. In this case the knight is my brother, and I am very proud of him.
In the evening, Mr Beaupays came by with a little bag Lizzy had dropped at church and forgotten. He is very attentive to details like that – it is actually quite amusing. He was extremely concerned that Lizzy had been without her accessory for a day, and then turned his attention to me. "Miss Bennet, I was most struck by your bonnet on Sunday, as I said before. I wonder, where did you purchase it?"
"I purchased the frame in a shop in Meryton," I smiled, waiting to see his reaction, "and I fashioned the ribbons and decoration myself."
He blinked. "Upon my word, I am astonished, Miss Bennet. You must have some skill in bonnet-making!"
"Oh, no," I said, "I have just been accustomed to fashion my own bonnets with my sister Lydia for a long time."
"That is quite amazing," he said, still unable to believe what he heard.
"I think you take it a little far, Mr Beaupays," I giggled.
"Well," he said, "Maybe I do, but I must confess I am amazed. You may have noticed."
I laughed again. "Yes, I did notice."
He got up. "I must leave now. My valet is awaiting me with a new suit, or so I hear. Oh, but Miss Bennet!" he said, clapping his hands together in a very fashionable way. "Will you consent to tell me what exact shade of blue is the ribbon on your bonnet over on that table?"
"I would if I knew, sir," I replied, "but I don't know."
"Oh, that is a pity," he replied smoothly. "Good day for now, in that case."
"Good day, Mr Beaupays."
Right now I am earnestly trying to decide which man I should choose. They all have good qualities. Mr Beaupays is very amusing and I don't doubt he would make a very useful husband. And I should like leading society and throwing dinner parties and balls frequently and so on. He has a defect though; he seems like he would never fall violently in love enough to stop talking about clothes.
Mr Montgomery, as I have said before, is very lazy – a definite defect. But he has a good sense of humour, something which I find invaluable in a man, and his laziness could suit me. I hate running around doing things energetically that I don't enjoy one bit. It seems to me to be such a waste of time, and so no doubt I would have a bond there with him. He is nice, too. So far, looking back on my journal, I have only mentioned his languor. But he is amiable, and he does think of others' feelings – whether he acts on them or not is another question.
Sir Thomas is much too old, of course, but I really don't see that as an insuperable obstacle. He looks so young that it would not really matter, and there are benefits in marrying an older man. But he is wonderful to flirt with, and he is very kind. Rich, too. Richer than Mr Montgomery, will probably stay rich whereas Mr Beaupays may end up running away to the Continent chased by debts, like Mr Brummell did, and just as rich as Lord Gosford. Generous too, which could be a problem, but when we are married I will see to it that he does not give away too much. That is, if we are married. Sometimes I get caught up on an idea and run wild with it and forget that it's not even close to settled yet. But there is something very tempting about the thought of marrying Sir Thomas. I am sure I should enjoy it very much.
And Lord Gosford is of course witty, handsome, rich, clever, amusing, and in his own way, kind. He doesn't stand nonsense. Which could be a good or a bad thing. Sometimes I am so nonsensical it makes me cringe. But marrying him would be good for me, in that case. The main problem I see with him is that he is the sort of man whom I could imagine getting bored. I don't know if I could trust him to stay true to me. That seems very old-fashioned nowadays; I know many society wives just turn a blind eye on their husbands' little strayings. But I could not; not if I was in love, and I don't understand why I could not. It always seemed to me that I was so much like Lydia, and Lydia would not care one little bit if Wickham strayed, as long as he came back home in the end. I must admit now then, that maybe I am not so much like Lydia as I thought. I have no desire to run away and elope, nor do I wish to marry a man who would be unfaithful to me. I am certain it would make me very unhappy.
But now I am straying, only from the subject. Of course it is silly to brand Lord Gosford as such a man! For goodness' sake! I hardly know him yet! And although he does seem very wicked sometimes, he does have a goodness about him, in a way, I think.
I wonder which one I will marry? For I am sure I will marry one of them. There is no doubt about that. I can see that they are all falling madly in love with me, especially, at this point, Sir Thomas. Mr Montgomery takes things so slowly that whatever happens in that quarter will be a long time coming. Lord Gosford likes me, I can tell, but he is careful too. And Mr Beaupays' heart is unlikely ever to be touched above the ordinary.