A Private Performance (17 page)

Kitty may have had no fears of the charms of the other young ladies invited to Pemberley. However, she had not taken into account their virtues. Miss Robson had arrived, along with her fortune of twenty-five thousand pounds, a virtue which quite outbalanced her plainness, making her appear very pretty indeed. The young lady was accompanied by her aunt, a wealthy widow, who was rumoured to have willed all of her own estate, too, upon the fortunate girl.

With all the luck of a novice, Reginald Foxwell, with the help of his uniform, captivated both the girl and her aunt.

Kitty wrote to Lydia of her justified outrage.

After tossing and turning, in agonies of the heart, for at least a quarter of an hour, Kitty fell asleep and did not awaken until eleven. It was the day of the ball! She nearly sprang out of bed, but stopped herself in time. She reached up and rang for her maid.

Elizabeth had treated herself to a peaceful breakfast in her room, on what promised to be a busy day. She supervised the floral decorations in the ballroom, then called into the still room, where she was almost overpowered by the delicious scent of thirty rose bouquets, set out in a rainbow of colours, each chosen to match a lady's gown.

She stepped out into the sunlight and wandered along the terrace. It was a beautiful day. She would go to the summer saloon and see if some of the ladies desired to walk around the lake.

As she turned the corner, she saw a horse at the steps. Captain Westcombe was just coming out of the house with the colonel.

“Mrs. Darcy, I have been looking for you.”

“You are not leaving us, Captain?”

“Indeed I must. I have received an urgent message from my mother. My brother, the earl, is very ill with scarlet fever.”

“I am very sorry to lose your society and for such a cause as this. Will you not take a carriage?”

“My mother sends a carriage to meet me. I thank you for your kindness.”

“I will not delay you. Our thoughts will be with you and all your family.”

He hesitated.

“Will you say goodbye to Miss Darcy for me? I have so enjoyed our conversations.”

“Of course.”

They said hasty farewells and Elizabeth watched as he rode away up the drive.

She turned to Henry.

“How serious is Lord Bradford's condition, Colonel?”

“Serious enough. It seems he has been nursed through a fit and has not recovered his senses.”

Elizabeth's thoughts returned frequently to the captain's family. They would be feeling the keenest anxiety over the third of four brothers to face premature death. His aunt by marriage, Lady Englebury, and the marquess would feel an additional concern because Lord Bradford, now lying dangerously ill, was heir to the marquess. Of course, Captain Westcombe was next in line. A wild thought entered her head. She laughed ruefully; the poor earl was not even dead, and the captain was rumoured to have long loved his cousin Arabella, who would not so much as look at a younger son.

 

The main dining hall was filled to capacity. The long table sparkled with silver and glass settings complemented by the silver ribbons and glass ornaments set on fine wires among the hothouse flowers.

In view of the special night, the hostess had waived precedence considerations for the young unmarried people. The centre of the table was the scene of gaiety with a concentration of girls and young men. Lord Reerdon was among them, feeling rather dashing on his last chance to play at being available.

Poor Kitty was stationed between a stodgy young man, somebody else's younger son, and the Reverend Edward Turner! She noticed Lieutenant Foxwell glancing in her direction on occasion. She revenged herself by devoting her time to chattering prettily to Mr. Turner. She had never spoken to him for so long together, and found him quite nice, the poor thing.

Georgiana was not enjoying herself. She had accepted Captain Westcombe's request for the honour of the first dance. As he was called to his brother's sickbed, she lacked a partner. Now, capping her dread of being the first to step onto the dance floor, she had to
endure everyone's attention as three gentlemen all desired her hand for the opening dance. One young Lothario suggested they fight for the honour since she would not name the lucky man.

“Gentlemen!” Elizabeth remonstrated, with a hint of laughter. Darcy began to rise, with no such hint on his countenance, when Henry Fitzwilliam forestalled him.

“You are too late, sirs. My cousin has already made her choice. I am the fortunate man!” Amongst the cries of disappointment, Georgiana gave him a look of loving gratitude.

As the orchestra introduced the opening dance, Georgiana Darcy was led onto the floor by the man most qualified to give her confidence. She was all grace and womanliness. The bodice of her white silk gown was embroidered with pink roses and pearl beading, her rose bouquet pinned beneath her full bosom. Kitty would have liked to see the colonel in his red coat, but to Georgiana, he looked perfect as he was.

Lord Reerdon bowed, took his hostess's hand and they followed Henry and Georgiana. Darcy led out Lady Reerdon, and the set formed below them.

T
HREE DAYS OF BALMY WEATHER
followed the ball, and the weather was a perfect excuse for laziness. Some of the guests were relaxing in the saloon, where the windows yawned open onto the lawn. Others sat on chairs or lounged on cushions near the lake. Two young ladies made desultory efforts at painting, while three young men reclined on the grass nearby, admiring their work, or their persons. Tea was being set up under the spread of the chestnut trees.

Henry rested from his rowing for a moment and the boat drifted into a patch of afternoon shade. Elizabeth sighed.

“What a beautiful day this is. This weather is extraordinary.” She put her hand on Georgiana's. “Tell me, what are your feelings having been launched upon society?”

“Everyone expects me to talk to them. I was so relieved to come in the boat with you.”

“They thought you were silent before because you were not ‘out'. Now they hope for a flood of words. They must accept you as they find you.”

“Which is perfect,” said Henry.

“It is very kind of you to say so, Cousin, but I fear I will be found wanting.”

“I dare anyone to find you wanting,” said Elizabeth. “Did you enjoy your ball?”

“I did. It is thanks to you, Elizabeth, that it was so splendid. I enjoyed the dancing, but people would keep looking at me so.”

“What could they do but look at you when you were so lovely?” Henry's question floated away on the still air. At this instant, he felt no longing, no aloneness.

Elizabeth said: “I cherish the privacy here with my dear sister and my—I nearly called you brother.” She smiled and looked away over the water, missing the touch of bitterness in his smile.

He said, “Darcy has been as a brother to me, more so than my own.”

He took up the oars again. He felt how unreasonable was his envy of his cousin. Most of his life this feeling had pecked away at his affection for Darcy, who had never stood in his way and who had been unstintingly generous towards him. His feeling for Elizabeth, now a married woman, was not honourable; he would struggle against it.

Elizabeth glanced at Georgiana. There was a sadness that had not been there before. Henry brought the boat against the little pier.

Darcy came over to them and handed the ladies out. Elizabeth tucked her hand in his arm and they turned away to join the guests under the trees.

Elizabeth nodded to the butler to serve refreshments. She sat by her friend Mrs. Courtney who, on impulse, reached out to touch her hand.

“I continue to marvel over the success of your ball, Elizabeth.”

“I confess to feeling a good deal of self-satisfaction. Too much of this experience will make me intolerable.”

“I doubt that very much. You have chosen your guests perfectly. No-one is left ‘on a limb'.” She leant over to whisper: “Especially Mr. Reginald Foxwell. How well he looks in a scarlet coat, and how the ladies admire him in it.”

Elizabeth laughed. “He is really abominably handsome. How the ladies of his congregation would have adored him in the pulpit.”

“I imagine he will receive adoration enough in the comfort of his own establishment, with an aunt as well as a wife to worship him,” whispered Amelia.

“It is very good of him to provide me with a successful romance from my little party,” Elizabeth answered and they both laughed. Mrs. Darcy caught the eye of Mrs. Foxwell, whose nod to her hostess conveyed a certain satisfaction.

It seemed an understanding was inevitable between Reginald Foxwell and Miss Robson. He had danced half the night with her at
the ball; ever since, he had sat by her side, plying her with attentions, which she accepted in a daze of happiness.

Kitty was taking it very well, sitting amongst a group of young men and women, talking, smiling and never looking his way. Elizabeth took a mental note to praise her sister for this decorum later. Meanwhile, she enjoyed a gracious repose at her beautiful home, surrounded by guests among whom she could count several dear to her. What need had she of marchionesses and the self-serving attentions of the London Ton?

Her fruit sat untouched. Breezes rippled the patterns of light and shade and wafted the scent of flowers about her. There was a splashing of the ducks on the water, the faint hum of bees and the soft cry of birds from the woods. She felt the intensity of his gaze, and knew her husband looked at her. Their eyes met. Henry saw Darcy's warm, approving smile. She smiled, too, as enigmatically as ever, but Henry fancied her brief glance to say something like, ‘How dear your face is become to me.'

‘I have been impertinent,' Henry thought. He rose and walked back to the lake.

He felt her presence at his side even before he turned—dear Georgiana. She put her arm through his. They walked in silence for several minutes. Then she replied to his unspoken thought.

“She does love him. It is not true what some people say.”

“What do they say, little one?”

“Why, that she married him for his fortune. How I hate them!”

“They are not worthy of your hatred. They mean no real criticism of her, you know. Our society is so fine that those who marry into a higher sphere are to be congratulated, even if they wed solely for worldly gain. Whereas those who marry beneath them are seen as fools, regardless of how passionately they love, or indeed of the happiness they find.”

She squeezed his arm and they walked on, Henry looking bleakly over the lake.

“Will your little friend marry Lieutenant Foxwell?”

“I think so, Henry, if he asks her.”

“Of course he'll ask her and sooner rather than later.”

“I think she is making a terrible mistake. Did you notice how he pursued Miss Bennet before the arrival of an heiress changed his course?”

“Indeed I did.”

“Miss Robson came to my room last night, full of talk of him. She told me that her aunt more than approves; she thinks the world of him. They have known him but four days. What can I do?”

“Nothing whatever.”

“Will he make her happy?”

He did not answer, perhaps feeling a little tired of other people's happiness. They walked along in silence, until he said: “Darcy will be pleased.”

“Why?”

“This marriage will remove the last trace of the guilt he felt when Lady Catherine deprived young Foxwell of his living. I doubt he would have made a conquest like this from his vicarage.”

“She is but his prey! As I may be, courted for nought but my fortune.”

“Your friends will take better care of you than Miss Robson's have of her, never fear.”

“I wish you would not go, Henry,” whispered Georgiana.

“My father bids me home; I know not what he wants of me.” She was cut through, unaccustomed to this cynical tone. Unaware, he continued: “Then I must attend upon Lady Catherine, until it is time to return to my regiment.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “Do you weep for me still, Georgiana? Do you not know I have just begun my cure?”

“I am happy to hear it.”

“Then I am happy too.”

“Next winter, I will be out, and I must accompany Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth, when they are invited into society. Last winter, I would sometimes sit in Elizabeth's dressing room and watch her dress to go out—do not laugh at me.”

“When have I laughed at you?”

“I would pretend to myself that I were a little girl and she my mother.”

His heart yawned open. Such tiny figures they seemed, Georgiana and he, standing on the rim of the world.

“Dear Georgiana, your brother and I did our best for you. Yet we could not manage the part of mother.” She smiled and looked away.

“Let us take a little tour around the lake, for I must away after luncheon.”

She took his arm again and tucked herself in at his side.

“Dear Georgiana,” he said, “you are the only being, in all the world for whom I am not superfluous.”

 

The colonel left, duty-bound, but three more weeks of summer pleasures went by at Pemberley. By day, there were walks and drives for the ladies and fishing for the men. In the evening, there was music, dancing and cards. The last entertainment was a concert.

Mr. and Mrs. Edgeley did not accompany their daughters to the musical evening. The curate's health was the given reason, but, in truth, it was so long since his wife had a new evening gown that she lacked the courage to face such a fashionable crowd. The lure of the music was too great for Anna, and the adventure for Emily.

Elizabeth was pleased to see Mr. Turner make a point of speaking to the Misses Edgeley, staying with them in the drawing room until dinner.

When the ladies withdrew, Elizabeth ran up to the music room to ensure that all was in readiness. As she re-entered the drawing room, the first ladies she encountered were Anna and Emily with Miss Bingley. Caroline was saying: “I adore nothing so much as a simple meal followed by an impromptu little concert among friends.” Perhaps Caroline did not know that the sumptuous array of dishes served at dinner was not seen by everyone as a simple repast. She turned to Miss Edgeley. “Your performance upon the harp last month was exquisite. I do hope you will honour us again this evening.”

The faintest of flushes heightened Anna's marble cheeks at the implication she was a hired musician.

“I think not, Miss Bingley.”

“Oh?”

‘Why have they come then?' Caroline thought. She saw her hostess.

“My dear Mrs. Darcy, I declare I am heartbroken, for Miss Edgeley says she will not play for us this evening.”

“I have hired musicians, Miss Bingley, so my guests will hardly play.”

“What a foolish mistake. I do beg your pardon.” She curtsied deeply to Anna and swept away.

Elizabeth followed her with her eyes for a moment. ‘Insolent girl. What motive could she possibly have for insulting young women so inoffensive and unprotected as these?' she thought.

When the gentlemen joined the ladies, Edward Turner looked around the room. He saw Kitty with a lively group of elegant young people. He hesitated, before rejoining the Misses Edgeley.

Quite lacking in talent for small talk, Anna was a stimulating conversationalist for a cultivated man such as this. Her musical knowledge was formidable and she was as well read as any other lady in the room, doubtless much better read than most. Emily was happy to stay in the background, watching the faint spark that lit the cool grey of her sister's eyes.

Miss Robson slipped out of the room for a few moments and, immediately, Lieutenant Foxwell approached Kitty. With an innocent smile to the officer, she walked straight past him and went to the nearest available young man.

“Mr. Turner,” she cooed sweetly, “I had not seen you. How do you do, sir?” Whence came the colour in her cheeks? Turner feared it was matched by his own.

Kitty turned, and said, “Miss Edgeley, Miss Emily, I am so happy to see you again. I hope your parents are in good health?”

“They are tolerably well, thank you,” Miss Edgeley replied. “I understand you have not been in good health yourself, Miss Bennet.”

“I took a cold, from dancing on the terrace at the ball, and you must take the blame, Mr. Turner, for you would make me do it.” He laughed at the injustice of this claim, while Kitty turned back to the ladies and continued: “It was such a splendid evening. All the doors were open, and the terrace lit up with torches. It looked so gothic, so thrilling. Some of us ran outside and formed our own set on the terrace.” In spite of herself, Emily's imagination was fired, but Anna felt a chill. “I was dancing with Mr. Turner and he made me go out too, although I knew I must not, for I always catch cold. Lizzy was ever so cross with me, but I got better after a day or two, so she was wrong, after all.”

His voice was warm. “I am much relieved that you have recovered, Miss Bennet. I should never have allowed it, had I known of this delicacy.”

“How should you have prevented me?”

He looked into her upturned face. “I know not.” She looked up at him with the suggestion of a pout.

“Mr. Turner, I shall leave you now, for I have interrupted a very learned conversation, I am sure.”

“Perhaps you have, but the interruption was not unwelcome.”

“I think it must have been. I daresay you were talking of music. I cannot talk about music, for I am fearfully ignorant of it.” Mr. Turner looked as though he thought this an admirable trait.

She put her hand on his arm and said, “I shall tell you why sometime, if you promise your secrecy.” Leaning towards him, she was seemingly unaware that her bodice gaped ever so slightly.

Miss Edgeley became suddenly very interested in the painting on the wall behind them, and turned away. Emily gazed at her in helpless sympathy.

“Do not, Emily, pray.” Emily turned to the picture.

Edward spoke softly. “Tell me, now, Miss Bennet, I beg you.”

She looked down demurely. “A very horrible man would come to our house. He was a … music master.” On his quiet little laugh, she looked up. “He said to Mama that it was ‘quite hopeless' to try to teach me. Do you not think that very cruel?” Where was the
articulateness with which Edward had so impressed Mr. Darcy? He could scarcely answer her.

“Yes.”

“Will the weather continue fine, do you think, Mr. Turner?”

“The weather? Not for very much longer, I should think. It has been unusually warm for this part of the country.”

“I do so hope it does, for I go to Scarborough next week and I am determined to go sea-bathing.”

“You go to Scarborough? When will you return?”

“I know not if I shall ever return,” she said carelessly. “Perhaps I shall go with my sister Mrs. Bingley to Hertfordshire.”

Turning to the Miss Edgeleys, she said: “The music is about to begin. Shall we go up together?”

She seated the curate's daughters one each side of her. Wonderfully dainty she looked between them.