This chapter took a turn I did not expect. Enjoy.
55. Our Esteemed Dinner Guests
When the ladies arrived at our home for dinner, Lady Catherine's eyebrows rose almost to her hairline on spying my husband's injuries, but she said naught about it. To my great surprise, once we went into dinner, Lady Catherine let Georgiana, Miss de Bourgh and Mrs. Jenkinson talk, and instead engaged with Fitz and I. While I was curious as to what the others would converse about after discussing how Miss de Bourgh found town thus far (she confessed to seeing little of it, having only been conveyed to Gunthers and remaining in the carriage while others fetched her ice), within moments Lady Catherine demanded every attention from Fitz and me.
"I am given to understand, Darcy, that Lady Henrietta has used her arts to attempt to cover up your wife's youngest sister's shame with tales about her prior marriage and recent widowhood. However, I would not be surprised, as other reports are circulating about, if a canny newspaper man should take the trouble of visiting Mrs. Darcy's hometown to suss the matter out. No one would care about the young Miss Bennet's fatherless child (but for the shocking nature of the report and the opportunity to use it as a cautionary tale) were she not the sister of Mrs. Darcy, married to a rich man and nephew to the former earl. You know how gossip can rule town and such reports could stain Georgiana by association, greatly lessening her chances of making a good match.
"A patched up marriage for Mrs. Darcy's sister would be far superior to a quickly revealed lie. Keep the one about her being a widow if you like, but get her remarried quickly again. Such haste would be excused for the sake of the child."
"Lady Catherine, what have you done?" Fitz asked and in a moment I understood that he believed she had or in short order would see that someone investigated the matter and published a story in the gossip rags.
"Nothing, nothing at all since I learned of your unfortunate marriage. Unlike you, nephew, I care about the reputation of the family. But although Meryton is a little market town, barely worth mention, is it not likely someone in town does not have connection to such a place? After all, I heard of her disgrace without ever leaving Rosings. And even now I understand Mrs. Darcy's whole family is staying at the Meryton Inn and your sisters freely carry the bastard child about, though few have anything to do with them. Mr. Collins wrote the rector and was reassured that they are not admitted to the church, cannot take communion."
I felt the weight of what most especially my sister Mary suffered in being excluded from the forms of our faith, but inwardly rejoiced that now that was no longer the case in town. In defiance of Lady Catherine I lifted my chin slightly and said, "Your news is outdated. My other sisters live with my uncle in town and soon my mother and the youngest shall remove for Bath.
Ignoring me and addressing him, she rejoined "Darcy, truly, that shall not do at all. Many of the fashionable take the waters in Bath and I understand that Mrs. Bennet tells all that will listen about her daughter's provident marriage to 'Mr. Darcy, a man of great property in Derbyshire, with an income of ten thousand a year and likely more, nephew to an earl.' Those are the very words that Sir William wrote to my former rector. Can you truly imagine she would be more discrete away from those who witnessed your marriage? While it is well that the other daughters have been removed from that household, even though the only option for them was to live with an uncle who I understand is in trade, more needs must be done. Now that this Miss Lydia is connected, even if very peripherally to our family, she should marry and soon. Pay a man for that task if you must, but act with all haste. There can be no delay."
"Truly, Lady Catherine," I replied, "while I thank you for your concern, I am not sure that you should be dictating what my husband and I should do."
She gave a little harrumph and replied, "It is as I recall, you are quite decided in your opinions for someone so young. You are undoubtly canny and through some scheme have managed to marry quite higher than you ought. But listen to your elders in knowledge and wisdom on such a matter. Hear me now, a baby must need have a father and his wanton child of a mother shall need a firm hand. Clearly her parents failed her, no governess, no limits, so leaving your sister with her mother shall just give further opportunities for vice, of shaming you all with another fatherless child."
As if that concluded the matter, she looked over at Fitz and said, "Darcy, if I were you, I would find her a simple farmer for a husband, one well out in the country, at least half a day's journey from any village, or better one located in Scotland or farther. If she must fetch and carry, cook and clean she'll have less time to be the wanton. Indeed, it is better than she deserves."
I wished to reject her advice, even though she was not speaking to me (a matter I found rather infuriating, after all it was my sister, my family), but before I could decide quite how to do it, my husband quelled my words with a look and said diplomatically enough, "We shall consider all that you have said."
That seemed to conclude the matter, and we all attended to the others for a time, our interest piqued by hearing Miss de Bourgh laughing, laughing! I had not caught the context except that it seemed to be at something Georgiana had said. I saw then that Miss de Bourgh could be pretty if only she were typically livelier. But Lady Catherine spoiled it all by saying, "Anne, what has made you laugh so?"
Under such attention, Miss de Bourgh's face dropped, became closed off and indifferent. "Nothing of consequence, Mother."
Perhaps for something to do, to remove attention from herself, she dipped a spoon into her soup bowl, but even with tilting it was only able to get half a spoonful to her evident dismay. Then she even wiped up the dregs with a bit of bread.
I told an attending footman, "See if Miss de Bourgh wants more soup."
He asked, she answered, and requested "Yes, please." You can be sure I felt quite accomplished as a hostess for having procured with Georgiana's help something that evidently pleased her.
Before the footman returned, Fitz had engaged Lady Catherine in a topic of conversation which I believed was designed to keep her occupied, rather than being one my husband preferred, "I expect that since you are both in town, you shall attend Lady Henrietta's ball."
"Yes, that was in part our very purpose in coming her." Lady Catherine then discussed who was likely to attend, possible matches for her daughter and the upcoming appointment she had to have the both of them outfitted (with scarcely a breath between anything, not long enough for either of us to make a comment). She surprised me by adding, even as she gave me an irritated look, "Mrs. Darcy might as well accompany us. Doubtless she has little idea of what is appropriate for a ball of such importance and would benefit from the advice of her betters."
I felt the insult keenly, believing it to be intentional. I also believed given that Lady Catherine had not been to town for many years she could scarcely know what was fashionable. Judging by her taffeta gowns, she had not updated her style in many a year. But Lady Catherine then added, "Lady Henrietta has scheduled the appointment for us all, and she will know what we all need. Lady Lavinia shall also attend. She thought to excuse herself on account of her expectation but with a proper high waisted gown it will not be a problem in any account. We must show all of London that we maintain a united front."
"Elizabeth will attend," my husband answered for me, adding much to my previous irritation. I seethed inside, clenched my jaw to hold back the words I wished to say. How dare he speak for me!
I looked away from them both and observed the others. Miss de Bourgh was finishing her second bowl of soup. I well recalled how much Mrs. Jenkinson had to urge food upon her at Rosings and wondered if the problem was the food and not her appetite. I observed she had not taken a single bite of mutton (despite it occupying a good portion of her plate), nor of any of the dishes I had ordered based on their former presence on her mother's table.
When it came to the choice of sweets, the result was similar. She had two helpings of the strawberries and cream, and none at all of the spiced apples with nuts that Lady Catherine ate with evident pleasure.
After dinner we only separated long enough to refresh ourselves and then reassembled in the guest parlor. Georgiana stepped into the breach and almost immediately declared, "Anne, I have been most curious. Do you agree with me that women of means ought not to marry unless they desire to do so? I know that I might very well happily live at Pemberley my whole life. Having seen how very much in love my brother is with Elizabeth and she with him, I cannot see entering into the marital estate without feeling love for any man I would marry."
We all turned toward Miss de Bourgh, anxious to hear her response, but she had not even opened her lips before Lady Catherine's strident voice rang out. "Poppycock! I can only conclude that Mrs. Darcy is a very poor influence on you, Georgiana. I have half a mind to take you back to Rosings with us. Such notions shall only do you harm. Every woman needs to marry, and if you marry the right sort of man, you will grow fond enough of him soon enough. I was quite happy with my Lewis in the end." She nodded and crossed her arms, leaned back, daring any to contradict her.
Georgiana's bravery fled at this pronouncement, and she tucked her head down. I was very tempted to contribute my thoughts on the matter, but my husband shook his head and then inclined it in Miss de Bourgh's direction. Her lips were pursed, and I was unclear whether she was about to speak or not. We silently waited, and I had just about made up my mind that I must say something if everyone else would not, for what did I care about Lady Catherine's good opinion, when I certainly did not have it now.
"Mamma," Miss de Bourgh uttered in a tiny voice that sounded more like that of a child than of a woman fully grown.
"Yes Anne?"
"I suppose I always assumed I would marry."
We waited again. I believe we were all wondering if she would say anything more at all.
"And marry you shall," Lady Catherine said a little more gently than before.
"But I am not sure . . . that I should wish to marry . . . someone from town." Miss de Bourgh seemed to struggle to formulate her thoughts. But as no one interrupted her or interpreted her thoughts for her, she was evidently encouraged to continue.
"I believe I should like . . . should like someone . . . who would be happy living at Rosings with me, . . . someone . . . who should like the countryside in Kent as well as I do, who would like Rosings especially and be ever so kind to the tenants." Miss de Bourgh gave a little sigh of contentment once she had gotten her thought out.
"There are many fine men in town who should love to live by your side in Kent." Lady Catherine responded. "While men of trade (who should never be suitable) may dwell in London all year, men of any real worth spend a good deal of their time in the country."
Miss de Bourgh continued on, not contradicting her mother, but not just accepting her words, either. She stared out past us, conjuring up a picture with her words that only she might see. "I should like a quiet, soft-spoken sort of man . . . who would like to do quiet things: read books before the fireplace, like I do, write a pretty bit of verse. Perhaps we could speak together later about what we have read. I would not mind if he would smoke a pipe as Papa used to do or be busy much of the day working at accounts or riding the estate, so long as we could companionably listen to a bit of music together perhaps once a week, take tea together most days. It would not bother me if he were ordinary in appearance. I would not mind if he should be a shorter man, be going bald, have a paunch, or even have been married before. None of this would bother me, if he were a kind man.
"Sometimes I am quite lonely. I should like a husband that would be my friend for always, who should like to spend time with me. Perhaps he would like to ride in my phaeton with me . . . instead of Mrs. Jenkinson. I should like a man who would be willing to go on a picnic with me on a fine summer's day and would hold me tight and keep me warm better than hot bricks in my bed on cold winter nights." Miss de Bourgh then made a great sigh, evidently relieved at having gotten the whole thing out.
Lady Catherine rejoined. "I am sure there are many fine men who would suit. I shall keep all these things in mind as we try to determine the right husband for you."
As it seemed that Miss de Bourgh was inclined to marry and had even managed to express her desires in the matter (which were dissimilar to what mine would have been), I felt that I should be satisfied. Yet, I was not. Not entirely.
Nothing much of note happened the rest of the evening. Georgiana, upon Lady Catherine's urging, played the piano forte for us, showcasing several songs. Of course she played marvelously, her fingers seeming to float upon the keys, no note amiss, timing perfect. Afterwards, Lady Catherine said approvingly, "I see you have been practicing constantly as I have advised. If Anne had ever learned to play, she would be a true proficient." Miss de Bourgh said nothing, seemed to retreat into herself and become smaller somehow.
Then Fitz asked me to play as well. I only played two songs, both of which I had been working on improving since becoming acquainted with Georgiana. I felt I acquitted myself tolerably well, thanks in part to Georgiana's tutelage in how to improve my fingering. Lady Catherine even said afterwards, grudgingly I thought, "Mrs. Darcy must have been practicing I suppose."
After they departed, Fitz and I lay in our bed and talked about the evening. We discussed his cousin's surprisingly detailed list of qualities she wanted in a husband. I noted, "Is it not odd how she specifically mentioned deficiencies that she did not mind?"
"Yes," said he, "there is something a bit odd about the qualities she listed. If only I could . . . " Then he suddenly sat up. "By Jove! Now I understand what that was all about. Anne wishes to marry the Rosing steward, Mr. Robert Selkirk. He meets her every requirement perfectly. He is a quiet man, dedicated to his duties, smokes a pipe, is short, balding, and is rather thick about the middle, and his wife died five years ago, never having given him any children. I wonder if she has a tendre toward him or just sees it as a practical solution to her mother's desire that she marry. Could it be that he is fond of her?"
I, myself, had no memory of a Mr. Selkirk, but perhaps that was not so odd as I could not quite imagine that Lady Catherine would be eager to have a steward dine at her table with her other guests.
"Is he a good man? Is he someone that Lady Catherine would be willing to welcome into the family?"
Fitz considered the matter. "Yes, certainly, to the first. He is meticulous in his duties, if a trifle unimaginative when it comes to considering improvements to make. He is a steady, reliable man. As to his background, I am sure he is from a good family, for Lady Catherine would not employ anyone who was not, but of course he would not be a fine match to an heiress like Anne." He considered further, "I seem to recall he is a younger son, born to a younger son of a baron? baronet?" He scrunched up his brow in thought. "I believe his father had a good living in the church."
He lay back and I considered this. A certain idea began to take hold. I was not sure it would work, but I thought it worth considering. "Fitz, do you suppose we could get Lady Henrietta to invite him to her ball? If we could, would he, could he come?"
"I do not know. Perhaps if we could appeal to her romantic sensibility? As to whether he would come, that I do not know. He might see it as a dereliction in his duty to be gone at the same time as the family."
"Do you know him well enough to invite him to be our guest? I would be glad to host him, to forward what Miss de Bourgh most wants."
"If we can persuade the countess to invite him, I can certainly extend an invitation. You know what this means, do you not?"
"Whatever are you saying?"
"You, my dear, appear to be fully committed to staying through the ball, despite having to be in company with my reprobate of a cousin."
"I suppose I am," I rejoined. "I was already thinking this might be a good idea, as I should like to help Jane decide whether to accept Mr. Bingley."
"Shall we endeavor to get the both of them invited to the ball as well? Lady Henrietta usually would not invite a tradesman's son, but I think I might endeavor to get her to make an exception."
"I think that a fine idea," I said, kissing his cheek. These matters then apparently resolved, we found other things to occupy our mouths and bodies.
A/N: Now what?