Teaching Eliza, page 3
“The content of our aunt’s letter has not changed since I read it to you this morning!” Lizzy teased. “It contains a renewal—and a rather insistent one—of Mrs. Grant’s offer. Or, rather, I must call her Lady Grant now! How wonderful that our aunt’s brother was raised to a baronet! I shall never become accustomed to calling him Sir Harrison, let alone Sir Harry, as he insists. Shall we now have to kneel before him and offer him tribute, do you think?” Her eyes flashed in amusement.
“Cease teasing!” Jane tossed her head and then quickly turned to the mirror to ensure that her coiffure was unspoiled by the action. “Sir Harry is the same man he was, no matter that he has been granted a title and new estate for his service to the crown. He has ever been a kind and humble man, and so he shall remain, I am certain. But the letter, Lizzy, the letter!”
“Very well,” she smiled and gazed affectionately at her favourite sister. “To repeat, Lady Grant has reiterated her pleasure at sponsoring the elder Bennet sisters for a season in London. She has written to Papa, who has reluctantly given his approval, and now she awaits only our own acceptance.”
“Surely that is not all.”
Lizzy withdrew the letter from her pocket and scanned it anew. “Aunt Gardiner says that Lady Grant talks of nothing but how we shall enjoy a full season in Town. She insists that we shall enjoy the best of everything London has to offer, from the theatre and the galleries to the most sought-after invitations and introductions to the most eligible young men in society. She cares little that Mama is from a family in trade, and suggests that Papa’s status as a gentleman, as well as the dowry she mentions bestowing upon us, will more than atone for any inconveniently trade-born relatives. After all, Uncle Gardiner is in trade, and Sir Harry considers him the best of friends.”
“It really is too much, is it not, Lizzy?” Jane asked her sister. “The offer of a season is more than generous, but to add to our dowries, that is beyond what we can accept!”
Lizzy was suddenly serious. “You speak truly, Jane. And yet, with the pittance Papa has to settle upon us, if we do not accept, our options shall be limited indeed. Or,” her eyes lit up once more in mirth, “mine shall be. Your future seems rather settled, and awaits only Mr. Bingley’s offer.”
“Do not tease me, Lizzy!” Jane blushed, the delicate pink that spread over her cheeks only adding to her ethereal beauty. “Until it is done, I shall rely on nothing.”
“It shall be done, dearest Jane. Now, let us finish your hair, so you leave Mr. Bingley absolutely no choice in the matter!”
By the time the Bennet sisters had completed their preparations and Jane’s hair met with Lizzy’s approval, it was time to summon the carriage and depart for the village. Mr. Bennet, the patriarch of this fine family of females, had announced that he had no interest in subjecting himself to several hours of raucous noise and shouted inanities, but the rest of the family were eager for the evening’s proceedings to begin. Mrs. Bennet, still an attractive woman with more than a hint of her youthful beauty, fussed around her five daughters like a mother hen inspecting her chicks, offering comments, advice and chastisement with little regard for their content or intended audience. “Jane, stand up straight, dear, or no one will look at you. Lizzy, surely you aren’t wearing those shoes? Oh well, it is too late to change them now. Kitty, dear, try not to trail Lydia all evening. Leave your sister some freedom to flirt. Mary, if you smile more, it will distract from your spots. Lydia, the lace on your fichu is uneven. Pull it down a bit. There, don’t you look the lady now!”
At last the carriage arrived and the six women bundled inside. The younger girls, primarily Lydia and Kitty, chatted ceaselessly about who might attend, how many feathers Mr. Bingley’s sister would have in her coiffure, and whether there would be ice served. Mary attempted to involve herself in the conversation, but was ignored by her younger sisters, and she resorted to staring out of the window, only to be chastised afresh by her mother. Jane seemed unusually silent during the short drive, although Lizzy surmised the cause of her dear sister’s distraction, and resolved to let her be.
At a distance of only one mile, the drive took very little time, and within moments the Bennet ladies were standing in the great hall, greeting acquaintances and awaiting the first chords of music that would announce the dancing. Lizzy immediately spotted her dear friend Charlotte Lucas, standing by her mother, and with a pat on Jane’s forearm, left her sister to make her way to her friend.
“Have you heard, Lizzy?” Charlotte gushed. “Mr. Bingley has company staying with him at Netherfield Park, and he is to bring them this evening. One is the son of an earl, no less! How splendid if he were to ask one of us to dance! Do you think I look suitably elegant to dance with the son of an earl?”
She spun in a slow circle, allowing her companion to admire her dress. Charlotte would never be considered beautiful, or even pretty, and she had passed by the years when youth can atone for lack of pulchritude; but her plain face was not unappealing in its own way, and her poise and good sense made up for her unremarkable features. And her dress, Lizzy gladly admitted, was lovely indeed. A skilled seamstress, Charlotte was able to copy the fashions she saw in the magazines from London, and could transform the simplest shift into a stunning gown.
“You look well indeed, Charlotte!” Lizzy hugged her friend, careful not to crush the gown. “An earl’s son could do worse than ask you to partner him on the dance floor. If he is a man of education and sense, he will certainly wish for a second dance as well, for you would be sure to charm him with your conversation.”
“You tease me, Lizzy! But I should be happy to be asked for a dance at least once this evening, even if not by the honourable gentleman, whoever he may be!” She paused to scan the room. “I do not see anybody from the Netherfield party yet. I do hope they arrive soon, for I am most curious to see who else arrives with Mr. Bingley. Shall he offer for Jane tonight, do you think? She had best accept him immediately. I know some ladies think it fashion to refuse at first the man they mean to accept, but that would never do. He might be discouraged and seek elsewhere without giving her the chance to reconsider and change her mind.”
Lizzy laughed, “Oh, Charlotte, always the practical one! I am certain that should Mr. Bingley ask, Jane will be only too happy to accept him at once. Indeed, even should her lips form the word ‘No,’ her eyes would surely give away her true thoughts.”
At that moment, the band leader raised his fiddle and the musicians began the strains leading into the first dance. As she had expected, Lizzy had not been asked to dance. There were more ladies than men present that evening, and she had been standing in a corner, talking to Charlotte, whilst people were forming into couples. She felt content to remain by the wall and watch, since she had no pressing desire to stand up with any one particular person, no matter how much she might enjoy dancing as an activity. The music swelled, just barely audible above the growing hum of conversation, and the dancers in the centre of the room formed and reformed the patterns of their well-learned steps. Lizzy thought she spied Jane in the midst of the crowds on the floor, possibly dancing with Charlotte’s older brother, but the room was crowded and she could not be certain.
Then, as the final chords of the first dance faded away, the great doors to the assembly room were flung open and Mr. Bingley stepped brightly into the space, his usual smile affixed to his face, his eyes alight with good humour and delight. His sister, looking less pleased at her situation, stood beside him, garbed in the finest frock from London and ornamented with dazzling jewels. Lizzy heard one of her younger sisters whisper loudly, “Seven feathers! I was right!” but her attention was drawn, rather, to the two men standing just behind Mr. Bingley.
The first of the two to catch her eye was a splendidly dressed officer, the gold braid and brass buttons reflecting the light of the many candles that illuminated the room, his epaulets calling attention to broad shoulders. He did not wear his sword, as befit the activities of the dance floor, but fading bruises on his face and a black patch over one eye announced to the world that this was not a back-office soldier, but rather a man who had seen action. Although not quite handsome, his golden hair and broad smile nevertheless made him an immediate favourite amongst everyone who sought a partner for a dance or for a daughter.
To his side, and a step or two behind, stood a tall dour-looking man. Dark hair and eyes topped a handsome face, but his expression was nothing like the officer’s. His brow was furrowed and his eyes narrow, and no trace of a smile could be seen. Suddenly intrigued by this brooding spectre, Lizzy could not help but observe his stance. Lingering behind the others and leaning slightly backwards with his arms rigidly at his sides, he seemed most reluctant to enter the room. He would be no happy addition to the assembly!
“Which is the earl’s son?” Lizzy whispered into Charlotte’s ear. “Surely not the officer. He seems much too pleased to be seen in such a fashion-poor place as this! It must be the other one, the tall gentleman. His is exactly the face I should expect from an overbred aristocrat accustomed only to the finest frills of London’s society!”
But her supposition was soon countered when Mr. Bingley descended upon the small group after the set had concluded. Jane’s partner had brought her to where Lizzy and Charlotte were talking, and it was thither that Bingley rushed as soon as the floor cleared.
“Miss Bennet,” he bowed deeply and took Jane’s hand to kiss. “Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas,” he greeted the ladies, then turned to Charlotte’s brother and shook his hand. “You must meet my companions, come, come!” He placed Jane’s hand on his forearm and covered it firmly with his own and led the ladies and John Lucas to where the newcomers still stood near the door to make the introductions.
The cheerful officer was, contrary to Lizzy’s expectations, the earl’s son. “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” Bingley presented his friend, “recently returned to England’s fine shores from Kingston, Jamaica.”
The colonel bowed deeply and smiled even more widely. Bingley then introduced his other companion, and once more Lizzy’s interest was piqued. The tall man’s face was no less handsome in closer proximity, but neither was it less forbidding. He practically scowled, and hardly bowed his head as Bingley presented him as “Professor Darcy, of Oxford and Pemberley.” Then he continued, “Colonel, Darcy, allow me to introduce to you Miss Charlotte Lucas, daughter of Sir William, whom you have just met, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sister to Jane.” He beamed at Jane and placed a hand over hers once more as it rested on his forearm.
The colonel’s greeting was everything polite and amiable, and he kissed each lady on the back of the hand as if they were duchesses. Both blushed. He then turned to Charlotte, clearly the senior of the two, and requested a set of dances. She wasted no time in accepting and sent a quick and radiant grin to Lizzy. If the others had expected the professor to request Lizzy’s hand for a set, they were disappointed. He merely stood, ill at ease and stony in demeanour, until Jane said something to make the others smile, turning the conversation to something pleasant until the next set began and the colonel led a very pleased Charlotte to join the dance.
Elizabeth had only half-expected the professor to ask her to dance. It would, of course, have been the polite and customary thing to do, but it was clear at once to Lizzy that customary and expected were terms seldom applied to the dour man. Bingley’s eyes bored into the professor’s own and he gestured slightly with his head, but Darcy merely wrinkled his nose and straightened his back before staring into the distance. For a moment Lizzy wondered if he were a cleric, unused to the company of women, but the man’s very fashionable and elegant garb did not quite conform to that notion. Perhaps, she mused as she schooled her expression, he was merely rude.
Bingley had the good grace to turn white and whisper something rather short in his friend’s ear, but to no avail. Darcy merely stood as still as a rock within a burbling river. Bingley rolled his eyes heavenward and grinned in apology to Elizabeth, and seemed about to ask her to partner him for the set when Caroline appeared beside him as if from nowhere.
Beside her elegant and beautifully dressed form, Lizzy was all too aware of her own inadequacies. Her dress was pretty and expertly cut to best display her figure, but it was not the product of London’s finest dressmakers. The sleeves were the wrong length, the lace trim last season’s colours. Nor was her hair done up in the elaborate twists and coils that must have taken Caroline’s maid hours to accomplish. This was not Elizabeth’s first encounter with Miss Bingley, but on each occasion that they were in each other’s company, Caroline made certain somehow to disparage her. Lizzy found these constant attempts mildly amusing, but they annoyed her nonetheless.
Now Caroline’s eyes scraped over Lizzy’s form, then alighted with more pleasure on the others in the party. “Oh, Charles, there you are. How lovely to see you, Jane,” she curtseyed gracefully, “and Eliza,” less gracefully. She scanned Lizzy once more and turned up her nose before addressing her brother. “Charles, you must speak at once to Sir William about some questions he had about the management of your livestock on the estate. He asked me to find you.” She then, at last, faced the final member of the small group. “And Professor Darcy,” she batted her kohl-blackened eyelashes at the stern man, “I believe it is our dance.” She stared at him with a fixed and determined smile.
Darcy reared back subtly and blinked his eyes. This dance was as much a surprise to him as to everyone else in the room, but he dutifully offered Miss Bingley his arm and escorted her to join the others in their neat rows. Bingley bowed and scurried off to find Sir William, Jane’s hand still firmly attached to his arm, leaving Lizzy alone. She rolled her eyes, and not being one formed for melancholy, laughed at her situation.
“Such is your lot, Elizabeth!” she chuckled to herself, “Always to be on the outside staring in. Perhaps if I accept Lady Grant’s offer, I shall not be forced to remain always at the sides.”
As she enjoyed the music and watched the dancers, she contemplated further her aunt’s invitation. Spending that much time with her beloved relation and the charming Lady Grant was an incentive in itself. For such a treat alone she would happily leave her family home for some months. Further, she would enjoy a season in London, for the music and art and lectures and libraries more, perhaps, than for the possibility of finding a husband. Convinced that only the deepest love would tempt her into matrimony, she had long resigned herself to being her sisters’ children’s favourite aunt instead of being a wife and mother to her own family. Still, in the greater society of London, who knows what charming men might be waiting to captivate her with their wit and intelligence. With the addition to her dowry, thanks to the Grants, she would be seen as an eligible match for many a well-heeled young man. If such men existed, she would certainly not pass up the opportunity to meet them, even if she were not quite as committed to the hunt as some might be.
Yes, she had decided, she would definitely accept the invitation. The only questions remaining were whether Jane would join her, and what she might wear until a new wardrobe could be procured that would meet the standards of the bon ton .
The dance ended and Colonel Fitzwilliam escorted Charlotte back to Lizzy’s side. “If I am so fortunate as to find a spot on your card, Miss Elizabeth, may I request a set of you as well?” he asked. His smile had not left his face for a moment, and Lizzy could see genuine good cheer in his regard, not the feigned simpers and smiles that graced Caroline Bingley’s visage. The expression worn by her friend, Charlotte, also suggested that the colonel was very good company, and Lizzy most happily accepted.
“I shall procure some refreshments for both of you,” the colonel purred, “and then shall come to claim my dance. Ladies,” he offered a deep bow and melted into the crowd in pursuit of something to drink.
“He is certainly charming!” Lizzy commented to her friend. “Does he dance as well as he flirts?”
Charlotte smiled. “I have stood up with worse, to be sure! I would not say ‘no’ were he to ask again. And yes, he is most pleasant to converse with. I shall have to ensure that he is invited to all the card parties and soirees I can, so I can hear more about his adventures in the West Indies.”
Lizzy closed her eyes and smiled. “I am certain he has so much of interest to say, and I have no doubts that he is fascinating and witty, but I could sit and listen to his voice for hours, no matter what he were saying. He speaks so beautifully, does he not? I wonder if he sings as well.”
“The colonel does speak most beautifully,” Charlotte agreed. “Even I dared comment upon it. He admitted to being singled out to sing in his church as a lad and having some training in matters musical.”
“You spoke of this whilst you danced? I am surprised you had time to contemplate the steps.”
“Silly Lizzy!” Charlotte blushed. “We talked of that and more. It seems his vocal training and quick ear has done much for his career. He is most interested in philology and dialect, and one reason he was posted to Jamaica is his ability to learn languages and converse with people of different tongues and classes. He explained it in rather technical terms, but it seems the colonel is something of an actor and a mimic.”
“An actor, I can well believe,” Lizzy grinned, “but he seems rather too sincere to be a mimic.”
“You wilfully mistake me, Lizzy!” Charlotte flicked playfully at her friend’s arm. “It is a bit of a family trait, it seems. Did you know that Professor Darcy is his cousin?” Lizzy’s eyes widened in surprise, but she bade Charlotte continue. “The professor is an expert in accent and dialect, and has published several treatises, and is invited to lecture here in England as well as in France and Germany, on his area of speciality.”
