Chapter 106

The next day is like a dream come true, driving to town in their least conspicuous clothes, visiting a debating club with the largest collection of books they have ever seen. Time flies while they are there, and since these books are also for sale, a large parcel is taken back to their carriage by a porter. They view even more glassworks, and have lunch in a quaint old inn. Then Bob drives them to a coal mine, which is rather a depressing sight, and then a limestone quarry, which is rather impressive. They ramble through the parts open to the public, and admire the unique vegetation of limestone areas. Too bad it's winter, a couple of other sightseers tells them the flowers are spectacular in summer.

And before they know it, their lovely day is at an end and it is time to go home and dress for dinner. Elizabeth wants to feel the carriage fly, and there is plenty of space here, Bob must be getting used by now to the sickening lurch of the horses leaping into a full gallop with only the box to hold on to. He insists on Fanny moving inside the carriage, though, before he lets the horses have their heads. Elizabeth reacts like Anne and is delighted, Fanny only slightly less so. Maybe the colonel was afraid because he is used to being in control.

Still a bit giggly from the fast ride, they file into the familiar building of the inn, Elizabeth deciding there is no time for a little privacy before she gets dressed: if Fanny is to go all out on her toilette, she will need every minute they have left.

'Will you come with us and keep Bob company at the colonel's house?' Elizabeth asks.

'I'd love to, ma'am,' the girl replies, 'I'm starting to enjoy seeing how other people's households are run. I don't think I can stay a personal maid forever, maybe I can learn to become a housekeeper by seeing many different ways of running a household.'

'I think that may be very true. You'd have to work for an experienced housekeeper for a few years, but seeing how a lot of other houses are run will certainly add to your knowledge. Do they treat you well as visiting staff? And right here in the inn?'

'Oh yes, ma'am, we get a lot of respect. Bob says Colonel Drummond's household is reputed to be very formal, and I suppose we'll soon find out. Mrs Wickham's maid was very nice, she adores Mr Wickham but of course I do, too, since he rescued me that night. Abbey is very worried about her mistress. And I so loved that you let me accompany you on your shopping trip, I saw such wondrous things, I still cannot believe I'm here, doing all this when I've never been this far from London before in my life.

The landlady here is different from the staff in a great house, she treats everybody the same, and she lets Bob and me have our dinner together in the breakfast-room, as if we are a couple on our honeymoon ourselves. Says we are her guests as much as anyone else here. It's so romantic, and none of my friends ever got to stroll on the beach with their fiancée. No, we're quite satisfied, ma'am, Bob just loves being in charge of the thoroughbreds, and wasn't he a hero to let them run that fast sitting on a simple bench? I thought he'd certainly fall off, but he said it's actually the best place to sit, very exciting, you can see everything flash by.'

Fanny is one of those people who can chat and work at the same time, and while she is relating her experiences so far, Elizabeth's hair is once again made to fall in perfect ringlets, her dress is in perfect order, her powder applied. Then she rummages in a drawer of the simple dresser, and takes out a package.

'Will you wear this one tonight, ma'am? It'll be a perfect match with this dress.'

'I will, Fanny. I want the whole company to know that I'm not too good to wear local workmanship. Show it to the master before you put it on, please, Fanny. Or he'll be breathing down my neck ogling it, and he and I will get all distracted again and be late for our appointment.'

Poor Fanny is still so innocent, she blushes delightfully, but she does dare spill a little gossip proving she is a city girl after all.

'Oh, Mrs Darcy, Mr Darcy, you know the businessmen staying here have staff as well, clerks mostly, but some drivers, too, and even one valet. They've noticed your disappearing act just before dinner, and they're all mooning over young love or making coarse jokes. They have no respect for Mr Darcy's name.'

'They probably don't even know my name, Fanny,' Darcy tells her, only a little put out over being the subject of speculations of that kind. 'This is not a place where my family and connections would be staying. They probably think we are a young couple having their honeymoon.'

Meanwhile Darcy studies the necklace Fanny handed him, an intricate pendant made of some kind of beautiful amber beads set in silver. It must have cost a fortune, though that is not at all how he knows Elizabeth. But she will undoubtedly tell him what those stones are, and whether he will have to sell one of the horses to pay for it.

'Do you like it?' Elizabeth asks.

'I love it, but what is it made of? It looks like amber.'

'I told you he wouldn't spot it, Fanny, you really have a knack for these things. No-one in London will realise the admired Mrs Darcy is in fact wearing glass beads! We bought one in red, and in blue as well. Rubies and sapphires. They cost practically nothing, Fanny bought a few without the silver for her sisters and herself. And the good people of London will think you spent a fortune in precious stones, with us laughing our heads off.'

'Glass? This is glass? You're not serious! I've never seen anything like it.'

'In fact you have, at the glassworks today. But jewellery doesn't interest you unless I'm wearing it. So you checked out the vases and the burned glass windows and you skipped the fancy work. I'm very curious whether anyone at Colonel Drummond's will recognise it as local work.'

Then it's time for Fanny to bully her master's hair into shape, arrange his coat to perfection and tie his cravat for him, she must have been practising for her work is starting to approach Simon's level of proficiency.

When they arrive at Colonel Drummond's in the dark and Fitzwilliam hands Elizabeth out of the carriage, a snub-nosed boy of around sixteen is talking to Bob.

'Your master ask me to assist you with these beauties, I suppose they are rather high-strung, being thoroughbreds?'

Bob, always friendly, replies, 'I never have problems with them, but then, I'm a very calm kind of person. These chaps reflect your own mind, if you're cool, they're the same. But they will not forgive you little mistakes. If the master wants you to help me, he trusts you to be a calm and friendly horseman.'

'He was very nice to me yesterday, did me a lot of good with a horse I thought wasn't treated right. Nobody listens to me because I'm the youngest here, but my father works with horses and I've helped him since I was seven or eight.'

Elizabeth cannot hear the rest, for the butler takes them into the house, a grand affair, but by now she is used to that, imagine the circle in which she finds herself nowadays, that marble facades and portrait galleries no longer impress her. Though she cannot remember being inordinately impressed with Netherfield or Rosings either. Pemberley, yes, but Pemberley is different from all the great houses she has seen so far, maybe it's its lack of ostentation that endeared its master to her, for there is no doubt that seeing the beautiful, unadorned grounds and the expensive but tasteful interior made her take Mr Darcy a lot more seriously. Still, she would be happy with Fitzwilliam if they lived at Longbourn together, and even in a parsonage, though preferably not Lady Catherine's.

The butler seems awfully formal, strange, for Fitzwilliam said the colonel himself is a bit too informal to his liking, calling him Darcy and boy without invitation. Fitzwilliam guessed it must be the effect of the army, where men depend on each other for survival. But the butler seems unaware of this, he is so correct he doesn't seem to be altogether human. It doesn't make Elizabeth feel much at home here, but maybe the company will make up for that.

When they are shown into the richest drawing-room Elizabeth has ever seen, though in excellent taste, she can see they must be a little late. She guesses there are at least fifteen guests present already, and most of them are men! Officers, most likely. Her eyes are drawn to the room itself, its magnificent high ceiling, cream woodwork, midnight blue velvet curtains and furniture, all in the latest fashion except for the ceiling, which is painted expertly with, as far as Elizabeth can tell in a few seconds, biblical scenes in the Renaissance style. Well, if she were making over a house with such a ceiling she would not have it painted over either, that would be a crime. Priceless crystal chandeliers and a walnut sideboard complete the impression of staggering riches, and all this in the house of a colonel of the army? Who most likely rents this place because his stationing here must be temporary? Intriguing!

But first the introductions. She has met the colonel, of course, and he is still as informal and friendly as ever. His wife does not like to see him do that, and compensates by showing Fitzwilliam and herself every civility that is their due, and a little extra. Probably because of their 'fame' as public figures who have been mentioned in the papers, for Mrs Drummond praises Elizabeth's ensemble and her personality so excessively it makes her feel almost embarrassed and shy. Of course Elizabeth prefers the colonel's easy familiarity.

'Mrs Darcy, you are even more beautiful than the papers say, and I can see now why they call you an icon of fashion, I have never seen a collier like you are wearing but I'm dead certain it will be the next fashion.'

As every attempt to intimidate Elizabeth makes her more courageous, so formality apparently encourages her to become familiar, and she finds herself replying gaily, 'Why thank you, Mrs Drummond, you are looking very much up to date on the latest fashion yourself!'

Which is true, she is wearing the current high fashion, though of course the colonel's wife is nearing fifty, so she has made some adjustments befitting her age, though her figure is not as portly as that of a lot of ladies her age. The good lady beams, and Elizabeth adds playfully, 'If my collier is to be the next fashion, Mrs Drummond, the craftsmen in your beautiful town will no doubt profit, for my maid discovered this treasure in one of your local shops.'

The lady is suitably impressed, and forgets all her decorum for a moment to remark, 'I cannot believe it, Mrs Darcy! Your maid found this exquisite piece? Right here in Newcastle? I have never managed to find a silversmith who sold precious stones, I have mine brought in from London.'

Elizabeth goes for the kill, smiling.

'Oh, but they're not real precious stones, Mrs Drummond. They're glass. We bought them at the glassworks in town. My staff and I don't care that much whether what I wear is expensive or real, we just search for a certain look, a certain sense of style. And that can be found anywhere, as long as one recognises it. My maid is an expert, and I have an advisor in London, well, two actually. The three of them together have helped me stay ahead of fashion.'

Mrs Drummond now looks hungry, she wants to be in fashion, desperately. Money is no object. There must be a reason, and Elizabeth will try to find out. Hopefully Fanny will pick up some information as well, in the servants' common-room.

'May send my maid over to choose some of these, Mrs Darcy? Or do you want to keep them exclusive? I'd understand.'

'I'm back to London next week, Mrs Drummond, besides, the local craftspeople would profit from your patronage. Though I would advise you to pay the glassworks a visit yourself, Mrs Drummond. It's a very inspiring place to view, they have so many beautiful objects and most are for sale. You have such a beautiful house, you clearly have a talent for decorating, I'm sure you will love the vases and the fancy objects they make. Stained and burned glass, too. The colours are vibrant and they can make any shape you wish. It's less than twenty minutes from here, and their little coffee-corner has the best brew I've ever had.'

'Thank you for pointing that out to me, Mrs Darcy! I've never even thought of going there, though I've lived on this estate all my life. I grew up here, you see, it was my father's estate, and when he died I inherited it. Theo and I run it together now, but when I die, my nephew will inherit. We never had any children, you see, we were in our thirties when we got married. Before we met I thought I was going to stay an old maid forever. He has made me so happy, though my family objected to him being of lesser standing. I never cared, I don't need their approval. I merely hope Theo will not be sent abroad again. Though I do try to keep up a certain air, a gentleman's house should look the part, don't you think?'

'I guess so, Mrs Drummond. I'm like your husband, from a different level of society. When I married Fitzwilliam, his houses were decorated to perfection already, he did that himself. But I love your feminine touch, and I'm glad you spared the ceiling.'

'You are the first person to notice that I did the decorating myself, most people hire someone to do that for them. But I like to do it. And the ceiling is indeed very old, my great-grandfather had it done by some famous Italian painter. I grew up admiring it, I could never destroy such a thing of beauty.'

It's obvious this lady is very likeable, and Elizabeth will enjoy talking to her some more, instead of being an upstart like herself and Jane this lady is the reverse, she married beneath her. But first they have to meet all the other guests, starting with a couple in their early forties. The husband seems quite average looking but the wife has an almost hypnotic charisma. Despite her age, she is attracting a lot of attention from the single officers, who seem to be mostly in their early thirties, Colonel Drummond's captains most likely. The man turns out to be a well-known actor from the famous Kemble family, Mr Stephen Kemble, who has taken charge of the Theatre Royale in Newcastle, and the lady is his wife, Mrs Elizabeth Kemble, née Satchell, a famous actress. Fitzwilliam shakes hands with both husband and wife, and Elizabeth is ready to do the same, when the man takes her hand and kisses it gallantly instead. Well, with his wife the object of so much attention, maybe he wants some for himself.

'Mrs Darcy,' he says, his voice is magnificent, a deep baritone that somehow gives her a little thrill, 'the papers have done you justice. Generally I feel a twinge of disappointment when I meet the object of such devotion as you have been in both the fashion and the gossip section, but in your case it is entirely deserved. And I can see you have been at the glassworks. I'm impressed. You have been in town for what, two or three days?'

'This is my third day, Mr Kemble, and my maid discovered these beautiful colliers yesterday. She is the one who deserves the credit. I'm very pleased you noticed they are a local product.'

'Eliza and I make a point of knowing what is going on in town. If we are to bring the people into our theatre, we need to know what makes them tick. And one cannot overestimate the value of good staff, we have had ours with us for at least a decade, we'll take them wherever we live. We're a team.'

Elizabeth now shakes hands with the other Elizabeth and finds her as charming as she appears. Then they meet a lot of captains, one of whom Fitzwilliam apparently already knows. That must be Wickham's former captain. They mingle and chat a lot, and during dinner Elizabeth finds the seating arrangements very formal indeed, which means that as Mr Darcy's wife her seat is pretty high up at the table, next to their hostess in fact. Fitzwilliam is on her other side, and Colonel Drummond is on his wife's other side, which gives her an excellent chance to get to know them a little.

They talk about decorating, Elizabeth doing most of the listening, starting to understand how to apply a little more femininity to a décor. Then she mentions Miss Darcy and her own sister decorating a room with antiques from the attic, and Mrs Drummond is wildly enthusiastic.

'I'm going to explore my own attics tomorrow, Mrs Darcy, what a grand idea! This house has been in my family for centuries, and some of the family were explorers, who knows what I'll find.'

After some time Colonel Drummond introduces his scheme to ride out on the moors and visit a stud farm afterwards, and Elizabeth can assure him that she will be very pleased to join in.

'I've always wanted to see a stud farm, so many beautiful horses in one place.'

'I cannot guarantee they will be beautiful, Mrs Darcy, these are not gentlemen's horses. I know the owner because we buy our army horses from him. Sturdy, stable horses, not the elegant hunter type you will be used to seeing.'

Elizabeth laughs heartily.

'At home our carriage horses were used for farm work, Colonel, you can imagine what they looked like. Though my father did always have at least one hunter in his stable when he was in his younger years. He prefers a less spirited horse now, though he still likes to hunt. It's hard to find a fast horse with a cool mind, but my father has always managed to do so.'

Why does this make Fitzwilliam look smug? He likes high-strung horses, he praised the colonel's dynamite stallion sky-high! Maybe its because he proposed to the colonel that he starts a breeding program for calmer hunters. Well, papa would be his first customer, if he could afford it.

'That is exactly what your husband proposed I might set up a breeding program for. Darcy, I like to pretend I'm a gentleman, but in my heart I'll always be an infantryman. We have the acreage, and my wife's family has always bred the best hunters in these parts. I've tried to get used to riding those beauties, but I suppose one has to start that at an earlier age. How old were you when you got your first horse?'

Fitzwilliam digs up some precious memories, with an irresistible smile.

'I've always had a pony, as far back as I can remember, but I got my first full-blooded hunter at twelve. I rode that pony like a plains Indian, facing forward in a saddle when my father could see me, but any other way as soon as he was out of sight. Remember Anne telling us about riding my pony bareback? Well, that was my first hunter. I could ride him facing backwards or hanging onto his side, with or without rein.'

'There you have it, Mrs Darcy. I learned to ride in the army, because an officer is supposed to sit on a horse to be visible to his men. And when Mrs Drummond and I met at the theatre and fell head over heels in love, I felt I had to continue the family tradition and learn to properly ride and hunt. But I think there is a market for cooler hunters, for me, for your father and maybe even for your husband, once he has a few children underfoot, or reaches a certain age.'

Fitzwilliam smiles at the image of himself with children, he's probably planning his first son's first pony already, and observes, 'I suppose it has to do with being in control, colonel. I only ride a horse that I will trust even if I should momentarily lose control over it, and I am certain I can judge a horse to know that after riding it once or twice. I suppose you want to be in total control all the time, and you just can't be on a hunter. I guess the solution is indeed to breed a different kind of hunter, it would offer ladies the opportunity to pick up the sport as well.'

Mrs Drummond is tired of talking about horses, she has probably heard it all day. To change the subject she asks Elizabeth, at the first convenient pause in the flow of the conversation, 'Do you play an instrument, Mrs Darcy?'

And Elizabeth, now certain she practises enough to satisfy even Eric, replies truthfully, 'I do, Mrs Drummond, and a lot better lately than I used to. I used to be too lazy to practise, but Mr Fielding, our protégé, has been teaching me, and he may be even more determined as a teacher than as a concert pianist. I dare say I'm a gifted amateur by now.'

'Then may I ask you to play for us after dinner? We all enjoy music so, but none of us are truly proficient.'

'Certainly. It'll be nice to show off my new skills for the first time, at home no-one is impressed, with two professionals playing all day, every day.'

Darcy is very pleased with the prospect of hearing Elizabeth play. He is also very interested to see the actress, Mrs Kemble, the object of a lot of admiration and attention from the much younger officers, practically all the time they have been in this company. Mr Kemble does not look disturbed by this, he mostly seems very proud of his wife, and spends a lot of time amusing himself with others, talking, joking, he is very lively and it seems real. Of course he is an actor, and a really good one, he could be fuming inside, but somehow Darcy doesn't think he is.

After dinner, when the ladies have retreated and the men are enjoying a truly excellent brandy, Mr Kemble approaches Darcy and observes dryly, 'I've seen you keeping an eye on my wife and her entourage quite frequently, Mr Darcy. And you have a very pretty lady yourself that you let leave very reluctantly just now. I suppose you are wondering how I can bear to have my Elizabeth the centre of attention?'

Darcy is astounded, is he that transparent?

'You're not projecting jealousy, my dear sir. Shall we say I'm an expert on human nature, having studied it out of professional interest? There are certain types of men and women, and you're one and your lady is another. Like Mrs Kemble and myself. She is outgoing, and likes to talk to all kinds of people, make new acquaintances, entertain a whole group. I save up my charisma for the stage, that is where I get my share of admiration and entertain the crowd. Then when I'm off stage, I'm back to my usual, reticent self. Though the difference is more marked in my wife and I, Mrs Kemble is an actress after all, and had a string of suitors before she decided to bequeath her hand on me whilst I guess your lady was a sheltered genteel girl before she bloomed under your guidance, it is still there. She is outgoing and will find friends everywhere. You prefer to have her to yourself. You must feel the sting of jealousy sometimes.'

Even more astonished to have this stranger assess him so easily he blurts out, 'Don't you? With half a dozen handsome young men hanging on her lips, praising her every word, sending her infatuated glances?'

Mr Kemble looks him straight in the eye, and says, 'I don't. I love it when she has a good time in public, and when we get home she is all mine again. She has chosen me over countless others, and she has never given me even the slightest reason to doubt her commitment to me. I admit acting is her job, but I'm certain your lady wife never has a string of six following her around.'

Stunned into frankness, and actually eager to hear more, Darcy replies, 'Never more than one at a time. And never this blatantly. One man I know is in love with her, but she treats him with nothing more than kind concern. One other I hate but cannot get free of because he is my brother-in-law. She doesn't even like him. I despise myself for feeling this way when I know she loves only me. I have no problem refraining from blaming her or trying to keep her secluded. That's not it. It merely makes me feel guilty towards her, and dependent on her. Out of control.'

The older man nods and admits, 'I've had that, too. I had a few bouts of jealousy at first, but we talked about it freely and I told her I didn't blame her, just myself for feeling that way. And she didn't blame me, just supported me. And after a while I stopped being jealous, those men are like an audience to her, she entertains them, then comes home to me. As will your little lady. Will you let me speak to her later?'

'She's planning to entertain all of us by playing the piano.'

'Even better. I'll admire her openly, and you can try to let it go. If the papers can be believed, your protégé is adulated by scores of young women, and quite some not so young ones. Does you sister have problems with that?'

'Frankly, her fiancée is suffering more. He stays behind the stage before his concerts, and only talks to his audience for half an hour afterwards, then wilts. My sister actually talks to his fans and they adore her, too. She says she knew this was going to happen and she never complains, though they have bought a special licence to get married a little sooner than we planned.'

And as soon as they enter the drawing-room together, Elizabeth joins them to give Darcy a barely decent kiss, then sits at the piano and starts to play. She was not lying, she has improved more than Darcy realised. She is playing a sonata, and she is doing it well! But sonata's are just for bragging, Elizabeth doesn't really like them, and she moves on to other kinds of music, folk-songs but also Italian songs and some Bach.

Even the officers notice her now, and Mrs Kemble joins the two of them with an indulgent smile. 'A moment of rest,' she whispers. It's obvious Mr Kemble has nothing to fear of those other men, she stands right next to her husband and wraps an arm around his waist. He kisses her as barely decently as Elizabeth did Darcy, and they listen to the music together.

Between two songs, Mrs Kemble observes, 'Did I hear your wife calling herself a gifted amateur just now, Mr Darcy? I'd say she is ready for the stage!'

That is funny, for he used to think that of Georgie before he heard Fielding play, and now Georgie has indeed reached that level, but Elizabeth never will. She has no ambition to improve herself more than this, and why should she? Practically no-one hears the difference anyway.

'I listen to two stage pianists practising all day, every day, Mrs Kemble. There is a marked difference, though I, too, had to hear it to believe it. If you could hear my sister or her fiancée play, you'd know instantly my wife is right.'

'I suppose playing the piano does rely more on technique than acting. A gifted amateur can capture the attention if she has a certain something that pleases the audience,' Mrs Kemble acknowledges.

'That won't work for a paying audience in music, though of course people love hearing music of this quality at a private party.'

Then Elizabeth starts to play again, and Darcy is perfectly satisfied admiring her from a distance, watching the young men vie for her attention and applaud and flatter her. Mr Kemble is right, it is possible to even enjoy this spectacle.

And when Elizabeth is done playing, Mr Kemble gives Darcy one significant look and joins the crowd around the piano, catching Elizabeth's eye instantly and gaining her undivided attention. So he has that actor's charisma indeed, he merely uses it sparingly. Still Darcy does not feel jealous, though Elizabeth is talking to the other man with interest. She does check the crowd briefly to find him, inconspicuously so as not to insult Mr Kemble. And not to check him for jealous behaviour, she is merely seeking eye contact to send him a look of love. After that there is nothing left to do but chat with Mrs Kemble, which passes the time quite pleasantly though he's not at all bewitched by her charms. Soon after that they decide to go back to their turret room, but not after having been urged by Mrs Kemble to visit their current show at the Theatre Royale. They set a date the next week, and are invited to join the couple for dinner before the show.