A Private Performance (18 page)

“You shall sit there, Mr. Turner,” she said, indicating the seat next to Anna. “And the two of you can say clever things to each other.”

Elizabeth sent Kitty an approving smile, and Kitty's demure look seemed to say: “Am I not good to be so kind to these poor things?”

She thought she would sit with them for the first part of the programme, after which she would surely have done her duty by them.

Indeed, when they moved into the reception room for refreshments, Kitty stayed only a moment or two at their side, before flitting off in the direction of the same happy group she had found so entertaining earlier. Turner occupied himself with helping Anna and Emily to cake and champagne. Darcy came to speak to them. If he had hoped for a lively discussion of the first part of the programme, he was disappointed. The atmosphere was constrained. In someone else's house, he would have wandered off again. As host, he made an effort to animate them. After a few minutes, Darcy asked Turner if he had spoken to the bishop, who, with his wife, was spending a few days at Pemberley on their way north. As he had not, he took the young vicar from the ladies.

Anna and Emily watched their retreating backs. Emily whispered: “I believe Mr. Turner is attentive to Miss Bennet out of respect for her brother-in-law.”

“I judge differently, Emily.”

“Anna—”

“I will speak of him no more.”

Meanwhile, it was arranged that the bishop and his wife, with the Darcys, would come to church at Kympton on Sunday. Mr. Turner felt emboldened to invite them to breakfast at the vicarage.

Kitty did not quite know how it happened that she sat next to Mr. Turner for the second half of the concert. Perhaps it was his hopeful look. She looked straight ahead at the flautist, fascinated by the rapt look in his eyes and the way his lips pursed against the instrument. The sound of the music must have affected her strangely, for she felt disturbed. She never turned her head, but did not forget, for a moment, the man beside her. Never before had maleness made quite this impression upon her. He looked at her flushed face, her dark hair curled neatly against her head. How slight was her figure, how tiny her bosom. He turned back to the flautist. Sitting on the other side of him, Anna called on the discipline of years and attuned her mind solely to the music. There was nothing else for her here.

O
VER THE NEXT DAY OR
so, the carriages rolled away from the steps and up the hill.

Amelia leant out of her carriage window.

“Dear, dear Elizabeth, until London then, I bid you farewell. I have so enjoyed myself. However, too much of a good thing spoils one. Tomorrow, I make my obeisance to Mother.”

“Goodbye,” laughed Elizabeth.

Amelia sank back in her seat.

“Do not look so cross, Teddy. It was but a jest.”

Bingley was anxious on leaving. Before getting into the carriage, he said: “Darcy, I do wish you had viewed Rushly Manor before we quite settled upon it.”

“You would rush into the decision, Bingley. You still have the opportunity to withdraw. Have you retained my notes regarding the points we discussed?”

“Yes, absolutely.” He added hopefully, “We did so like the house, Darcy.”

“Your enthusiasm will wane in winter, especially if you are tardy in bringing down the trees on the south side of the house. Be sure to insist upon all salient points with the agent, before you sign.”

“Of course, I wouldn't consider buying the place if any practical matters were left unsatisfactory.”

“Unless the price is adjusted accordingly.”

“Yes, indeed. That would make it all right.”

From the carriage steps, Miss Bingley turned.

“I will ensure that my brother follows your excellent advice, Mr. Darcy.”

Elizabeth added, “If you are still uncertain, you can turn to Kitty for her views.”

“Yes, Kitty!” cried Bingley. “You must give us your opinion on everything.”

“In that case I am relieved of all uneasiness,” muttered Darcy.

Elizabeth took Jane's hands in hers. “Dear Jane, I hope your heart is not too set upon making Rushly Manor your home, for my husband may yet forbid Charles buying it.”

“Lizzy!” The gentle reproof dissolved in laughter.

“Jane, Jane. When I think that in four months we will be but three hours' journey from each other, I am delirious with joy.”

“And I, Lizzy. My happiness will be complete.”

“In more ways than one,” whispered her sister, with a subtle glance towards Jane's stomach, its small swell hidden by the folds of her coat.

“Away you all go! Buy Rushly Manor this very night, then fly to Scarborough. Get yourselves very wet by day and dazzle the local populace by night.”

They watched the carriage drive away. Darcy said: “He is capable of purchasing the place without making the slightest claim for the cost of repairs. He took Netherfield on a ten-year lease without even going upstairs.”

Elizabeth put her arm through his.

“Bingley is fortunate to have such a very sensible friend as you to keep him from harm.”

“There can be no argument against that.”

She smiled. “Of course, you are fortunate, too, in having a friend who so appreciates your guidance.”

He looked at her coolly. “A compensation, I suppose, for lacking a wife who does?”

“I appreciate your guidance exceedingly. I do not, perhaps, prostrate myself every time you part your lips, but should you like it if I did?”

“I have not been given the opportunity to assess the happiness of such a circumstance.”

“You may enjoy the performance the first time, but within two months of the day that you conquered me so completely, you would cease to notice me altogether.”

“Perhaps.” He laughed.

“Walk with me, Fitzwilliam? We have a week to ourselves, before the Gardiners come. Let us begin to enjoy it now.”

She took one arm and Georgiana the other, and they walked towards the bridge across the stream.

“The Hursts and Miss Bingley were disappointed that you did not join their adventure to Scarborough, Georgiana. Kitty was thrilled to take your place.”

“I should much rather stay here with you and Fitzwilliam. I hope Kitty will enjoy her stay there. She …”

“Go on.”

“It is nothing worth mentioning.”

“I am sure it is,” laughed Elizabeth.

“I thought that Kitty was in two minds about going to Scarborough just at the end.”

“That would have been the effect of the letter from my papa. I showed a passage in it to Mrs. Hurst, who promised faithfully not to let Kitty within twenty feet of a red coat.”

“I suppose it must be that.”

“You can be quite sure of it.”

They stopped on the bridge, looking out over the stream to the lake. Reflections of billowing clouds rippled across the water. Georgiana drew her coat about her. They crossed the bridge and entered the wood, their usually brisk pace adjusted to Georgiana's slower step. The wind was freshening as they wound around the paths. Elizabeth skipped ahead and turned to face them.

“How wonderful it is to be alone together,” she said. “I love to be with my friends, and I love to be without them, too.”

“Daily my disinclination for society grows,” said Darcy. “Can you not imagine us living happily here, always?”

Elizabeth danced away from them, laughing.

“For a time.”

“We are not enough for you?” he asked, smiling slightly.

“Not nearly enough. I am like my papa. At whom can I laugh, if I lack fresh subjects for my study?”

He smiled, but not with his eyes.

She said: “You would not separate me from my sisters.”

“You have a sister here,” he said, “who loves you with all the devotion of a lifetime's acquaintance, I believe.”

“I cannot bear comparison to the sisters whom Elizabeth has loved all her life,” protested Georgiana.

“Indeed you can and do!” declared Elizabeth. “Yet I do not stop caring for Jane because I care for you.”

“Naturally, our relations are included in our family party,” said Darcy.

She smiled and turned to walk up the path ahead of them. After a moment's silence, she said, over her shoulder, “I believe you mean to keep me from London, sir!”

“No, indeed. My pleasure in this opportunity to monopolise your society has bred a momentary fancy to be ever thus.”

“Good Lord!” she cried, and faced them again. “If you are to begin having momentary fancies, I shan't know who you are, Fitzwilliam.”

He laughed and put out his hand to her. She came back to them, and took his arm. They walked on.

The wind began to creak in the trees and pull at the ladies' coats. Georgiana shivered and they turned back to the house. By the time they recrossed the little bridge, dark clouds had massed. As the footman took Elizabeth's coat, he said:

“A letter is just come for you from Deepdene, madam.”

The envelope lay on the tray, its black border announcing its contents before it was opened. The marchioness wrote that her nephew, Lord Bradford, had died, without recovering consciousness. Their immediate concern was to calm Lady Bradford, whose display of hysterical grief threatened the safety of her unborn babe. Until the babe was delivered, the identity of the next earl, indeed the next marquess, too, remained unknown.

Georgiana flushed. How he would change, the kind and thoughtful lieutenant, should he succeed his brother to the title. He would be too full of his own importance to ever trouble himself again about anyone else's feelings but his own.

 

At Scarborough, the sad news of the death did not unduly disturb the party. Caroline had barely noticed the colonel's quiet friend, and now wished she had. Her sister, Mrs. Hurst, was engrossed in her responsibilities. Caroline needed no watching, but under Louisa's chaperonage, Kitty would be protected indeed. At more than one assembly and party, requests were made by officers of the regiment, encamped near Scarborough, to be introduced to Miss Bennet. These were met by Mrs. Hurst's gracious refusals on the grounds of the young lady's excessive shyness. Her little nod let the M.C. at the assembly know that Miss Bennet's timidity may be overcome by a certain minimum income.

Mr. Hurst was, on occasion, prevailed upon to accompany the ladies on their promenades. He snuffed up the air as he strolled along the sea front, his wife on his arm. Mrs. Hurst looked as elegant as ever, despite a certain plumpness that lingered after her confinement. She planned to deal with this setback by long walks and sea-bathing. At times, they called to mind their tiny off-spring, safely fostered in a village.

“We could look in on the dear little fellow on our way to London in November, Mr. Hurst,” said Louisa.

“I see no call for that until he is walking and able to say something for himself. Then, perhaps, we might bring him home with us.”

“Certainly, there is no call to bring him home for a year or so. However, I should like to see how he goes on in a month or so.”

“You won't need to do that, Louisa. Mrs. Thingum, that curate's wife, visits him, don't she?”

“Indeed she does, my dear. I would not have her say she takes more interest in my child than does its mother.”

“For what purpose am I paying the foster fee, Louisa?”

“I know Lady Reerdon does not approve of children being left unvisited for long periods.”

“Oh, Lady Reerdon, you say. Well, well, we had best take a look at 'im, though I must say it is out of our way.”

Mrs. Hurst smiled and turned to look over her shoulder to where Caroline was walking arm in arm with Kitty.

“Caroline, dearest, is that not Miss Whittaker?”

“I declare it is. Look, Kitty, over yonder, did you ever see a bonnet more cunning?”

“Is that Miss Arabella Whittaker, the niece of the marchioness? How beautiful she is!” cried Kitty.

“That is she,” said Caroline. “Her looks are fashionable certainly, and her features tolerable, but I cannot see her celebrated beauty.”

“Lizzy says she is like a Greek goddess.”

“I will own her brother to be very handsome. Will you speak to her, Louisa, or shall I?”

Before Louisa could reply, Miss Whittaker saw them and bowed most cordially. Kitty was deeply impressed by every detail of Miss Whittaker's brother: his looks, his air, his dress. She was delighted when the reunion was followed by an invitation to take tea with the pair.

Mr. Whittaker did not improve upon acquaintance. She knew not what to make of manners such as the Whittakers'. They were elegant, they were indolent, they were witty, but she did not understand above one word in five of their conversation. She felt that they were teasing her, though so subtly she did not know what to think. She wrote to Elizabeth that she had never met such stupid people, though they were so handsome and so rich. Both had particularly asked to be remembered to the ‘bewitching' Mrs. Darcy. Mr. Whittaker, indeed, referred to Elizabeth's especial qualities, with an insinuating air that almost frightened Kitty. She was very glad when they said they were not to stay long in Scarborough, as they were ‘persecuted by so many invitations'.

Otherwise Kitty passed her time pleasantly enough, finding time for only one letter to her sister Lydia.