A Private Performance (23 page)

“A present from your uncle, Mr. Gardiner, I suppose.”

“Indeed it is. It was a gift to his agent and has passed through my uncle's hands, then mine, until it came to you.”

“How can I accept it?”

“In the same happy manner in which I accepted those exquisite feathers from you. Wilkins had the impudence to tell me I cannot put them on a new turban as people will recognise them. As if I cared! In ten years' time I will tell people that I've worn them with pride in thirty different hats.”

Amelia laughed.

“I do not expect you to take your gratitude so far as that,” she said.

The footman entered to present a card.

“Mr. Glover, at this hour! Evans, tell the gentleman that I am engaged.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Wait, Evans. Take the card into Mr. Darcy.”

Amelia said, “Do you continue to find Mr. Glover diverting? I own that his conversation can be very amusing.”

“I begin to weigh his fascination against his eccentricity and find the balance not in his favour.”

She picked up the braid and draped it over the front of Amelia's gown. “Now, are you going to wear this braid at the ball, when you go to Gladsmere Park? I want to picture you dazzling the duke and enrapturing the rakes.”

 

Mr. Glover did not always accept life's little reverses philosophically. His barring from the lady's presence was soon followed by dismissal from the house. He strode off down the road, glaring at the ground.

Rarely were visitors admitted to Lady Englebury's dressing room, but the playwright sent so desperate a note that she made an exception. She sat enthroned in her armchair and listened, the frown deepening on her face.

“I do not see how I can help you, Mr. Glover. What madness caused you to intrude so upon Mrs. Darcy in a public place? You had best make a fitting apology.”

“I made the attempt, ma'am. I have just come from Brougham Place. Her husband would not permit me to see Mrs. Darcy. I sent up my card to her, but I was ushered into the library.”

“How did you get along with Mr. Darcy?”

“I have somehow offended him further. I said I had come to make my apologies to his lady. He said he would convey them to her. He claimed that Mrs. Darcy declined to see me. I did not believe him; she would not be so unkind.”

There was silence. Glover looked away, towards the window, then to his feet. At last he raised his eyes. Terrible was the marchioness's look.

“You have as good as called Mr. Darcy a liar?” He bit his lip, while she watched him.

She broke the silence.

“If Mrs. Darcy comes no more to my Tuesdays, I shall be very angry with you, sir.”

“What! She comes no more? Has she said so herself?”

“How could that be? Could she write and convey to me a letter
in the time it has taken you to hurtle through the streets? Mr. Glover, how do you explain your behaviour?”

He jumped up and began to prowl the room.

“I know not how to explain this frenzy. I cannot eat, I barely sleep. I feel that this entire world is an illusion, and the only truth to be found lies in the other world, the world of exquisite feeling, the world of my next work.” He raked his hands through his hair, and then stared sullenly into the fire. The silence settled on them.

‘Why do I trouble myself with this madman? He has forgotten I am here,' thought her ladyship.

He looked up, stared at his benefactress, a tic working at his right eye.

“Marchioness, I should call it my first work, for up to now I have been merely playing. Yet I cannot settle to work. Only she can help me; she is my inspiration.”

She flinched in irritation at his expression of acute sensitivity. The ferocity of her expression silenced even the chatter in his mind.

“Mr. Glover, are you in love with Mrs. Darcy?”

“Were it so, I should throw myself into the river.”

“Kindly speak more moderately. Are you modelling your next heroine upon her?”

“I cannot pay her a higher compliment than to present the image I have of her upon the stage, your Ladyship.”

“She has a husband to pay her compliments. Do you not know that Mr. Darcy would not permit his wife's portrait to be hung in the exhibition last year? Yet you wish to parade an image of her about on the stage! Have a care lest you make Mrs. Darcy wish you would drown yourself.”

“Marchioness, it is to your assistance I owe my success. Without you—”

“Come, come, sir. I am gratified by your success. Thank me by behaving as a gentleman does, and do not cause embarrassment to my friends.”

He nodded dumbly. “What am I to do?”

“Go home and work. Have you written anything yet?”

“I have written but two pages, in a restless night of endeavour, madam. I hoped to show them to Mrs. Darcy this morning.”

The marchioness was silent. Previously, it had been to her that all his preliminary efforts came. A cold feeling engulfed her for the moment. She thrust it aside.

“I was afraid you would not like it,” he muttered.

She looked back into his eyes, keenly but not unkindly.

He thrust the pages into her hands, bowed, and turned to the door.

“Mr. Glover! Do you wish me to show this to Mrs. Darcy?”

“Yes.”

“Dear me, what is one to do with him?” she muttered to herself. She walked to the window and watched the young man emerge from her front door, turn abruptly and disappear down the street.

‘He is capable of striding along until dark, with no notion of his whereabouts,' she thought.

She sank back into her armchair, and picked the papers up again. After some thought, she enclosed them with a note, and rang for a footman.

 

In the afternoon, the marchioness sent for her niece.

“Amelia dear, no doubt you know this lady more intimately than I. How serious is this threat to my friendship with her?”

Amelia took the letter.

So pale did Amelia become that her aunt had her answer, even before she spoke. She saw to it that Mr. Glover wrote a suitable letter of apology, and Darcy expressed satisfaction. The marchioness felt her friendship had been little harmed. Elizabeth attended her soiree as before and dined, with her husband, in Park Lane.

However, their time remaining in London was to be brief, as they decided to leave for Derbyshire at the end of April. Lady Englebury wondered at the way they could leave London at the very height of the season to bury themselves in the country. Not even young love, had she ever experienced it, could have induced her to entomb herself with only the marquess and a silent female relation for company. She invited the Darcys to visit Deepdene in August.

Darcy anticipated little pleasure in this visit to his lordship's country seat but agreed all the same. The honour to Elizabeth could not be overlooked. Another consideration was the inclusion in the party of Lord Bradford, who seemed to admire Georgiana, seeking frequent opportunities to speak with her and dancing with her at every dance.

Bradford's reputation was spotless, he appeared very kind and he was rich, therefore likely not a fortune-hunter. He had the added commendation of the title of earl, later to be marquess. Darcy had not thought of Georgiana's marrying for two years or so, but this opportunity to exceed his stringent requirements for his sister's husband was too good to miss.

He told Elizabeth of his thoughts. “Fitzwilliam, you will not try to influence Georgiana too much in her choice of her life's partner, will you? She depends greatly upon your judgment. She may choose against her true inclination in order to please you.”

“She likes him well enough.”

“I feel she is a little young for this step.”

“I want to see her happy, Elizabeth. That is why I planned at one time that she and Bingley marry.”

“Can she not be the author of her own happiness?”

“I know the world, Elizabeth, and Georgiana does not. I knew I could rely absolutely upon Bingley's honour and generosity of spirit. Lady Catherine would not have given her sanction happily, but her views are now irrelevant to our purposes.”

“The junior branches of the family do try your poor aunt to the limit.” She crossed to where he sat and leant over the back of his chair, resting her cheek against his head.

“My love, should you feel easy in your mind if Lady Catherine were to die without any attempt at reconciliation on your part?”

“She would not have written as she did if she did not desire a permanent rift. If she now regrets it, it is for her to make advances and for me to decide whether to accept them.”

Elizabeth touched his mouth, and the firm set of his lips softened against her fingers as he kissed them. Quite suddenly she thought to tell him there was no-one in all the world she loved a fraction as much as she loved him. Instead, she said: “Do as you think best.” She smiled at his expression. “I did not imagine you would do otherwise. Yet I do not like to see your family divided on my account.”

“Do you relish the prospect of again listening to Lady Catherine?”

“Perhaps I do not, but there is more to life than relishment, if there is such a word.”

“There is not.”

“How very sure you always are.”

However, Darcy proved movable in this case, and wrote to his aunt. His letter fell like a seed among stones. Lady Catherine did not reply.

“In future, Elizabeth, I hope you will be guided by me and not attempt to push me in whatever direction your whim takes you!” he said.

She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of anyone having such an ambition, but she knew what it had cost him to make the attempt.

“I am so very proud of you,” she said.

“What?”

“I am proud of you, Fitzwilliam.” He turned sulkily away. Then, he gave a little shrug.

A
S
A
PRIL CAME TO A
close, Henry Fitzwilliam returned to London. Interestingly, since the improvement in his prospects, the colonel was no longer invisible to young ladies of fortune. He called at Brougham Place, where he renewed his acquaintance with Miss Bingley. Caroline had come, with her sister, Mrs. Hurst, for a morning of music with their dear friend Georgiana.

Henry had never realised what a pleasant young woman Miss Bingley could be. He sat at her side while she played the pianoforte. Her feathers nodded elegantly when it was time for him to turn the page. As her fingers raced across the keys, she leant slightly towards him. He looked thoughtfully at her handsome profile as she leafed through the book in search of another song. Elizabeth very nearly laughed aloud.

Henry did not forget his cousin.

“Georgiana, will you play for us, pray?”

“If you like, Henry.”

Caroline declared that she would die of disappointment if her dearest friend did not play, and Georgiana took her place at the instrument. She played a plaintive little air. Miss Bingley noted Henry's fond look. She was, herself, so moved that she rose from her seat and stepped softly across to the window, where she gazed out into the cloudy skies. Her figure showed to advantage as she leant against the rich stuff of the curtain. He was flesh and blood after all. He looked, and Mrs. Hurst noted the look.

“I am seized by such a desire to see Vauxhall Gardens again!” she cried. “Who will join me? Pray, all of you, come with me tomorrow and make a party of it.”

Elizabeth and Darcy were otherwise engaged, but everyone else accepted.

 

How lovely the gardens looked in the crispness of the clear spring day! Georgiana would have liked to have Henry to herself, but needs must share him with Miss Bingley. They walked about, Henry with one young lady on each arm, and the Hursts strolling behind them. Then they took refreshment in the pavilion. Georgiana looked out over the grounds, seemingly crowded with half of London. She cried out: “Look! Is that gentleman in the blue coat not Lord Bradford?” Even as she spoke, she realised her mistake.

The heat rose in her cheeks as Caroline trilled with laughter.

“That gentleman has perhaps something of his Lordship's air but lamentably little resemblance to his features.” She smirked at the colonel, and turned to Georgiana, whose mortification was plain.

“Have I offended you, dearest Miss Darcy? How unforgivable of me! I would not hurt you for the world. Indeed, that gentleman, though a stranger, is not unlike the earl. It was a natural mistake. I have often made similar errors myself.”

Georgiana felt as though she had betrayed some secret.

“Why do you blush so, Georgiana?” asked Henry.

Caroline leant across the colonel towards her friend, in order to take her hand.

“If you promise not to breathe a word, I will tell you a dreadful story. This happened to me at the Assembly in Bath. I was walking around the room in search of Louisa, when I came upon the gentleman to whom I had pledged the next dance, or so I thought. ‘Mr. Grey!' I cried, putting out my hand, ‘what lucky chance is this?'

“He bowed and said, in a horridly quizzing tone, ‘Madame, this is the most fortunate chance in the world, but my name, I am afraid, is not Grey.' I had never seen him in all my life! Imagine my feelings dear, dear Miss Darcy. I thought I should die of mortification.”

Georgiana looked all gratitude.

Caroline continued: “Yet I am not destroyed in society. No-one knows of my mistake, but myself, the man who is not Grey, and now you, my dear friends.” She looked around at them all, then at Henry, as she said: “I have placed myself in your power.”

Henry lifted her hand to his lips.

“You can depend upon our secrecy, although I cannot vouch for the discretion of Not-Grey.”

“I have no fears of him!” she said.

Hurst grunted. He was well-nigh asleep. “Perhaps we ought to go home now,” he said.

“Mr. Hurst, you are too cruel,” cried Caroline. “Miss Darcy and I had quite set our hearts upon dancing.”

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Hurst,” said his wife. “There is still much to entertain us.”

They became interested again in their surroundings. There was an excited buzz of conversation in the crowd. Henry looked around and saw one of his men waving to him, from the press of people below the pavilion. He went to speak to him, and heard that all officers were called to headquarters at once.

He returned to the table, where his friends waited for an explanation.

“Bonaparte has escaped from Elba. I am called to duty.”

“What does this mean, Colonel?” asked Louisa.

“The French are certain to rise in his support. We shall be again at war with France.”

Georgiana swayed in a near faint and Henry caught her. “Come, Georgiana, you are not well. I will take you home on my way.” With the briefest of farewells, they went away.

“It hardly seems proper for Georgiana to go off in a carriage with him,” said Caroline, discontentedly.

“They are first cousins, my love, and she is his ward, his child almost,” replied Mrs. Hurst. “You may be sure there is no harm in it.”

There was no harm in it. Henry held her hands in both his own, and she sat up very straight and pressed her lips tightly together.

“This may prove a baseless rumour, Georgiana.”

“No,” she said miserably.

“How could you know?” His voice was very gentle.

“I know in my heart.”

She felt the hot spill of her tears; she felt his arm around her and the touch of his lips on her wet eyes.

 

The colonel was pressed for time, but spared a few hours to go to Rosings to pay his respects to Lady Catherine.

“I am highly provoked, Henry. It was my wish that you resign your commission last November.”

“Forgive me, dear Aunt. Perhaps I can win some glory for the family.”

She did not notice his wry smile.

“I expect you to come back promoted. If you do not come back at all, Henry Fitzwilliam, I shall be very angry.”

“I will do my best to please you, madam, so long as my return is consistent with doing my duty.”

“I hope you have made your will in the way I would wish. Rosings is not to go to your booby of a brother. That would be an insult to the noble memory of Sir Lewis.” She gazed up at her late husband's portrait. Henry smiled. Such invocations of his late uncle's reputation inevitably reminded him of the time when he and Darcy, on vacation from university, had stopped at a tavern in a nearby town. “Who be the young bloods, Grandad?” asked an ostler, and his hard-of-hearing ancestor loudly replied: “Why, they be nephies of Ol'Spooney o'er Hunsford way.”

He looked from the portrait back to his aunt.

“Georgiana is the chief beneficiary of my will, your Ladyship.”

“I hope she marries well. I daresay the girl hobnobs with all sorts of nobodies introduced by her sister-in-law.”

“We believe Georgiana may have a new admirer, Aunt, in Lord Bradford. Darcy told me that he appears very struck with her.”

“What has Georgiana to say about it?”

“Georgiana is too modest, I daresay, to perceive his interest for what we hope it is. She was, however, most upset at a rumour of his engagement to a cousin. He may make her an offer at the end of the period of mourning.”

“Hurry him, Henry! He sounds altogether too nice to risk losing
his chance for the sake of his dead brother. He is the Marquess of Englebury's heir! My niece may become marchioness; that would be an excellent match.” She was silent for a moment. Her frown deepened as her thoughts took her from Georgiana, to her probable splendid marriage, and then to the possibility she would not be invited to the celebrations. By this route, she returned to her pet theme of Darcy's betrayal and his wife's dreadful connections.

“Is that disgraceful Wickham person to go to Belgium, too?”

“Lieutenant Wickham? His regiment has not been called at this stage.”

“A pity. He might have been shot. I suppose he is congratulating himself on keeping out of it.”

“To be fair to him, whatever accusations can be laid at Wickham's door, cowardice cannot be one of them. He has sought to transfer, without success.”

“That man can always be relied upon to have some evil motive. If he does get into it, see what you can do to have him put at the front. Why do you laugh? I never jest.”

 

Henry dined at Brougham Place on the eve of his departure. Caroline Bingley was among the guests at table.

“I declare we ought all to go to Brussels,” Caroline said. “I cannot bear to be idle here when we might cheer our brave army before they do battle.”

“This is war we speak of, Miss Bingley, not a summer tour,” said Darcy.

“I am not afraid. I would take any risk to help our gallant heroes,” she replied.

“There will be endless dancing and flirting, no doubt,” continued Darcy. “Then war follows, with our forces impeded by their anxiety for the safety of a crowd of useless hangers-on, all in a state of panic.”

“You are always so severe upon us, Mr. Darcy. Not all women are so cowardly as you seem to think us.”

“I said nothing of women in particular, madam. It is my belief
that some of the men among the civilians would be worse than any woman.”

“You men claim all the superlatives for your sex; the greatest bravery and the greatest cowardice are to be attributed to you. It is most unfair,” laughed Elizabeth.

“I am happy to acclaim you the bravest of mortals, my dear. However, you will not leave England at this time.”

“Thank you, sir!” she cried. “I was so afraid you would make me fight.”

Miss Bingley's laughter trilled merrily. Georgiana tried to laugh with the others. Henry took her hand in his and said:

“I could endure a parting of any length sooner than the anxiety of having you in danger.” She might not be so handsome as Miss Bingley, nor able to show off her attractive figure so well, but the look in her blue eyes was piercingly sweet. ‘Dear Georgiana. She may become engaged to be married while I am away,' he thought. ‘I do not like to think of it. How selfish I am.'

“I cannot contain my secret! I am going to Brussels,” announced Caroline. “I leave on Tuesday with Mrs. Brompton and my dear, dear friend, Miss Jennifer Brompton.”

She looked around, enjoying their astonishment, and continued:

“Mrs. Brompton always follows her husband, and there are quite hundreds of people going, I believe. Colonel Brompton says there is no danger whatever, compared to some of his previous scrapes.”

“What can Bingley be thinking of, allowing this?” said Darcy.

“I cannot see what Charles has to do with it.”

She did not repeat Mrs. Brompton's view: ‘If you two girls are not engaged in a month, then I am Horatio Nelson.'

Caroline looked around at them all.

“My dear friends, this may be my last meeting with you, if Mr. Darcy is correct. I hope the colonel may be able to struggle home, carrying the last message from my dying lips.”

“Do prepare something poetical for us, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth.

“I shall start work upon my composition this very night,”
Caroline said, her hand upon her heart. She turned to Henry. “Are you acquainted with Colonel Brompton, Colonel?”

“Yes, I know him quite well.”

She knew he did, for she had already made sure of it.

“It will be a comfort to hear from you very regularly, Miss Bingley,” Georgiana said. “We will have the earliest notice of how our army does in Belgium.”

“As for that!” cried her friend. “You shall hear from me very constantly. I can pass on any messages that Colonel Fitzwilliam has for you.”

Her carriage was called shortly afterwards. Leaving the colonel to make his adieux to Georgiana, Elizabeth made an excuse to take Darcy aside.

“What is it, Elizabeth?”

“I wish to give Georgiana a few moments to say good-bye to her cousin.”

“I cannot see that she needs such privacy.”

“Do you not? I do not in the least like this excursion of Miss Bingley's.”

“She has her guns primed but he is a fighting man.”

“This latest adventure throws the advantages too much in her favour.”

“As her sister-in-law, it is your duty to assist her to promote herself in life.”

“Let her promote herself with someone else.”

“I have every confidence in my cousin's judgment in choosing a wife.”

“I hope you will be vindicated.”

“I shall be,” he said firmly.

She touched his arm. “If Henry does not return, Georgiana will break her heart.”

“It would be a great grief for us all.”

“Indeed.”

As they walked back to the drawing room, he said: “Are you happy to leave London, Elizabeth?”

“I love to come to London and I love to leave again.”

“You were even more successful this season than last. Will you not be wearied at home with only your dull consort for company?”

“I might ask you the same question.”

“Not with a great deal of sincerity.” He took her hand. “You are the only person with whom I could joyfully contemplate passing six weeks in solitude. I fear it is selfish of me to take you prematurely from the scenes of your success.”

“Perhaps it is, and perhaps it is not, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth laughed, leaving him with less satisfaction than he may have liked.