30. Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty

May 25, 1812 London Elizabeth

L ady de Bourgh— Amelia’s— carriage arrived promptly at eleven. Elizabeth and Georgiana said farewell to Darcy and left the house, both eager to partake in the delights of Bond Street. Georgiana’s companion remained at the house; her new sister-in-law was enough of a chaperone.

“Good morning, my dears,” Amelia said cheerfully. “Let us make haste. We have a full day ahead of us, and after we are done, we shall likely be in need of a nap.”

The other three ladies laughed good-naturedly. “Shopping has always been a trial for me,” Elizabeth confessed. “My mother favors more embellished styles than I prefer. We were forever arguing about lace and ribbons.”

“There is no need to gild the lily, Elizabeth. You are lovely enough without needing feathers and fripperies. Your figure would be hidden by an overabundance of lace, anyway. No, understated elegance is the order of the day. And you, Charlotte, should lean toward subtle embellishments. You have a fine figure. We will strive to accent that.”

Charlotte nodded agreeably, a small smile on her face. It pleased Elizabeth that her friend could partake in the delights of town alongside her.

“What about me, Lady de Bourgh?” Georgiana asked. “I am not yet out, but my brother said I could purchase two new gowns.”

Amelia examined Georgiana with a critical eye. “You are tall and fair. Blues and blushes would look marvelous on you. Adornment on your sleeves and hems, certainly, and perhaps some lace on your collar. Yes, I think that would do nicely.”

Georgiana nodded, smiling widely. Her excitement seemed barely contained.

In short order they arrived outside Madame Dubois’s Modiste Shop on Bond Street. Amelia directed the coach to return in two hours, and all four ladies paraded inside.

“My Lady de Bourgh! What a pleasure it is to see you!” Madame Dubois’s French accent sounded genuine, and Elizabeth nodded as Amelia introduced each of her companions.

“Darcy, did you say?” Madame Dubois said. “I had heard Mr. Darcy married, but two ladies here yesterday declared it must be some mistake. They were wrong, I think.” Madame smiled at Elizabeth and directed her to stand on a little platform that stood in front of several tall mirrors.

“Yes, her coloring is very fine, n’est-ce pas? And your eyes, Mrs. Darcy! So handsome.”

“We have some fabrics for you, Madame Dubois,” Amelia said. “I have procured some exceptional weaves from a warehouse in Cheapside.”

Madame made a face but nodded. Almost as if they had been waiting outside, Amelia’s footmen trailed in, bringing bolt after bolt of fabric. They lined them up along a table hidden behind some screens and departed. Madame Dubois trailed over and gasped in delight.

“Where did you get this?” she asked. “ Ils sont magnifiques! I thought my shop had the best wares, and yet this is before me.”

Elizabeth made to respond, but Amelia put a staying hand on her arm. “Mrs. Darcy has connections that acquired the fabric directly from the importer. These bolts are part of a selection that was brought to my house for inspection.”

Amelia’s words were well said. They did nothing to denigrate the Darcys’ position, and also told the modiste that they had not ventured into Cheapside. Impressed, Elizabeth’s irritation cooled, and she turned to look in the mirror.

She wore one of her new gowns, one befitting her position as Mrs. Darcy. She silently thanked her mother for allowing the purchase; she did not feel so out of place in this fancy shop.

Amelia took a seat in a comfortable chair, a table with fashion plates on it in front of her. She leafed through them while Madame Dubois took first Elizabeth’s measurements, then Charlotte’s, and finally Georgiana’s. After each lady was measured, she joined Amelia and the other ladies in looking at designs.

Madame Dubois and Amelia selected several designs that would suit Elizabeth and Charlotte respectively before helping Georgiana choose two styles for her new gowns.

They were nearly done with their selections when the door to the shop jingled. In walked two familiar ladies, and Elizabeth turned away, hoping they would not see her.

“Miss Darcy!” came the shrill voice of Caroline Bingley. “How do you do, my dear friend? It has been an age since we last met. My brother asked me only yesterday if I had called upon you.”

“Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst.” Georgiana’s cool greeting seemed lost on Miss Bingley.

“Are you here with your brother, Miss Darcy? Or a companion?” Miss Bingley glanced around, her gaze landing first on Amelia before spotting Charlotte and Elizabeth.

“Miss Eliza! I did not see you there. What brings you to this part of town?”

“Good morning, Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst.” Elizabeth nodded and then turned back to the fashion plate Madame Dubois had placed before her.

“And Miss Lucas. We have not seen you since… last November, was it?” The sneer on Miss Bingley’s face could have curdled milk, so sour was her expression.

“Elizabeth, who is this bit of baggage?” Amelia asked. She tapped her walking stick against the floor, her imperious expression reminding Elizabeth of Lady Catherine.

“Baggage?” Miss Bingley squawked. “How dare you! Do you even know with whom you associate? How has Miss Eliza Bennet managed to worm her way into your condescension?” Miss Bingley gave Amelia a long look. “You are dressed fashionably enough. It is plain to me that you are someone of quality.”

“Lady Amelia de Bourgh, may I present Mrs. Louisa Hurst and her sister Miss Caroline Bingley?” Elizabeth cut in. “Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, Lady Amelia de Bourgh.”

Miss Bingley’s face paled but she rallied and curtseyed low to Amelia. “How do you do, your ladyship?” she said. Her sister followed suit.

“You are disturbing what was a pleasant shopping excursion,” Amelia said impatiently. “If you are here to lob insults at Mrs. Darcy and Miss Lucas, I suggest you depart immediately. I am an old woman, and I do not have the patience to trade words with a tatterdemalion.”

Miss Bingley gaped openly at Amelia, and Elizabeth smothered a laugh.

“Mrs. Darcy, did you say? I do think you have been misinformed. Mr. Darcy is a very good friend of my brother’s, and we would have known if he was to marry. Georgiana, you have not corrected this lady’s misunderstanding?”

“My brother married Elizabeth more than two weeks ago,” Georgiana replied quietly. She looked excessively nervous, and Elizabeth longed to comfort her somehow.

The strangled, choking sound that Miss Bingley emitted could only be described as hysterical. Mrs. Hurst, doubtlessly worried her sister would commit some other faux pas, herded the younger woman out of the shop with nary a word of farewell.

“Those are the two ladies who were in here the other day, spouting off their nonsense. It would seem they have been absolument corrected.” Madame Dubois smirked and the ladies returned their attention to their shopping.

Madame promised to have two gowns ready for fitting in four days, one for Charlotte and one for Elizabeth, and the rest completed in a fortnight. The ladies left the shop and journeyed to Gunter’s to partake of ices.

Amelia selected a table in the center of the shop, and as such, several of her acquaintances saw her and stopped to request an introduction of her young companions. Elizabeth found herself the object of their scrutiny. One gentleman examined her through his monocle, and another lady held up spectacles on a fine gold chain to get a better look. Everyone declared her to be lovely and promised to send an invitation to Darcy House for this or that event.

After each departure, Lady de Bourgh whispered details of their character to Elizabeth. “That is Mrs. Turner. Her husband is an ambassador, the second son of an earl. She holds lavish gatherings at the close of every season. Invitations are hard to come by, yet she said she would be sure to send one around.” Or “Lord Tippets is a widower thrice over. Each of his wives died in childbirth. He has three children, aged twelve, nine, and two.”

After leaving Gunter’s Lady Amelia returned Elizabeth and Georgiana to Darcy House, promising to collect them in two days to complete their shopping. Georgiana hurried to her room and after divesting herself of her outerwear, Elizabeth wandered toward her husband’s study, intent on greeting him.

She heard voices as she approached, and she paused outside the partially opened door.

“Explain it to me, then, Darcy! How is it different? Elizabeth has the same family as Jane. Why deter me from marrying Miss Bennet? If Elizabeth is good enough for you, then Jane is good enough for me! Blast her lack of connections and fortune! This is betrayal of the worst kind. You did not even bother to inform me. I learned from Caroline that you were married. Silly me. I did not even think to ask you why you wished to use Netherfield Park in May.”

She recognized Mr. Bingley and froze. His sisters must have reported seeing her at the modiste’s.

Her husband answered. “I put a notice in the paper. I am sorry you did not see it. And, if you recall, my only true objection to the match was my belief that Jane Bennet did not love you.”

“I should have discovered her heart for myself,” Bingley cried, cutting Darcy off. “In fact, I will do so immediately. I will ride for Longbourn tonight and throw myself at Jane’s feet, begging her to forgive me.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank, and she knew what was coming before her husband spoke.

“Jane Bennet has been Jane Collins since December,” Darcy replied quietly.

There was silence, and then Mr. Bingley spoke, his voice broken. “What? No, it is not possible. She loves me; I know it.”

“In that, my opinions proved correct. Why else would she marry so soon after your departure? If she felt deeply for you, she would not now be wed to my aunt’s idiot parson.”

Elizabeth could hear no more. She fled to her room, locking the door and pretending a headache for the rest of the afternoon.

How could he think my sister so mercenary? She would have married Mr. Bingley if he had returned. She loved him and I believe she still does. And what would my husband think if he knew my duplicity?

When her husband came to check on her welfare, Elizabeth answered his inquiries woodenly, unsure she could keep a civil tongue in her head. Her fury burned inside her, and she longed to let the flames consume her. How could she have been so deceived? A few compliments, some tender moments, and intimacy, and she put aside all her previous misgivings and his abominable pride. She longed to correct his misapprehensions, but that would mean admitting she had eavesdropped. It would also require her to admit that she, herself, was as mercenary as he thought Jane to be.

And she was, was she not? She had married to secure her future, and had stubbornly held onto her embittered feelings that her choices had been so few. Now, Elizabeth had become the very thing she had disdained–a fortune-hunting miss who married for nothing more than practicality, security, and pragmatism. But I have not even tried to love him. Is that not my fault?

Instead, she allowed him to tuck her into her bed with a cool cloth on her head and then fell into fitful sleep once he left her room. She awoke the next day groggy and irritable, grateful that she was not required to leave the house until tomorrow.

Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humor; and though every prospect of her own was destroyed for the evening, it could not dwell long on her spirits; and, having sorted through her confused emotions, she rose the next morning feeling somewhat better but in subdued spirits.

Her husband’s obliviousness to her mood continued during breakfast. He prattled on about his business the previous day and asked Georgiana about the gowns she had ordered. He asked Elizabeth, too, but feeling unequal to speaking, she deferred to Georgiana to describe the fabric and designs.

“We saw Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley at the modiste,” Georgiana said.

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She did not wish to think about it.

“Yes, Bingley visited yesterday. He apparently missed the wedding announcement in the paper and wished to pay his respects.”

Elizabeth frowned. How can he make light of the situation? “Is that the noise I heard from your study? Sounds of celebration?” She turned and looked at him, raising an eyebrow and throwing him an expression that he could not fail to interpret. I know you lie, husband. Please, believe me intelligent enough to know the difference between celebrations and an argument.

He cleared his throat and looked away. “In truth, he… Well, he did not understand my choice. I had reservations, as you know, about your family and your situation. He could not comprehend how I managed to set them aside.”

Partial truths… I am disappointed. She had hoped he would be honest with her, but to do so would require him to admit that he had orchestrated Jane’s heartbreak. He would not do it. Did he realize the colonel had already told her everything?

She pushed her food around her plate, dissatisfied with his replies. Finally, she stood, declaring her need to see to some correspondence.

He followed her, and she groaned inwardly. Why can he not leave me alone? she asked herself. She wished for more time to reflect and to put off her poor mood.

When they were safely in her private parlor, he took her hand and led her to a settee. “My dear, you do not seem to be yourself. Is something amiss?”

She did not know how to reply. “I will be well,” she said, hoping it would satisfy his curiosity. “‘Tis only a headache.”

“The last time you had that pinched look, you swooned.”

The reminder of Mr. Darcy’s proposal did nothing to help her mood. “I do recall,” she said testily.

“Promise me you will rest.” He squeezed her hand gently, concern in his gaze.

“I promise. I have a letter from my aunt to read and then I shall return to my chambers.”

He nodded and left her. Retrieving the unread letter, Elizabeth broke the seal, only to find a letter from Jane secured inside.

Dearest Lizzy,

How is London? Aunt Gardiner speaks of having seen you. Was she well?

My husband continues to mutter under his breath about the extreme displeasure of his patroness. Lady Catherine saw the announcement in the paper and went into a rage. I understand from Miss de Bourgh that her mother’s things are being moved to the dower house at the end of the week in consequence of her misconduct.

Sir Andrew came to take his leave. He plans to go to Briar Court for a week before returning to town. He will stay with Lady de Bourgh until the end of June.

In an attempt to distract my husband, I have finally informed him that I am with child. I felt the quickening recently and the midwife informs me to expect our child in September. My ploy worked for a time, but he has returned to speaking ill of your marriage to Mr. Darcy, mixing his expressions of pleasure with insults toward your person.

Send your letters to Aunt Gardiner. She will enclose them within her own and send them to me. Mr. Collins checks the direction on the post but has not demanded to see my letters. He is content, I think, to believe me biddable and obedient.

I hope you are making the best of your marriage, Lizzy. You and Mr. Darcy can be happy.

Love,

Jane

Elizabeth, though happy to hear from Jane, felt sad that her sister had to resort to subterfuge in order to write to her. She hoped that in time Mr. Collins would learn to forgive and would permit their exchange of letters once more.

Feeling slightly better, she went to her chambers to fulfill her promise to her husband. She rested in a comfortable chair, reading a book from the light of the window. The peace and solitude helped restore her good spirits, and by dinner, she felt equal to being in company again.

Darcy expressed his delight at seeing her well and prevailed upon her and Georgiana to favor him with music after the meal. They each played a piece of music and performed a duet before Elizabeth ceded the instrument to her sister and joined her husband on the settee.

He leaned toward her to whisper in her ear. “I am pleased to see you are feeling better,” he said, repeating his earlier sentiments.

“I assure you, sir, my constitution is hardy and strong. I do not swoon often.”

“I am relieved to hear it.” He took her hand, tracing her fingers before turning it palm up and tracing designs on her palm.

His touch sent thrills through her, and she leaned against him, truly relaxing for the first time since yesterday afternoon. She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Shall we retire?” he said huskily.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nodded. Darcy bid his sister good night and led her from the room.

Later, after her husband had returned to his own bed, Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered before drifting off to sleep. She cataloged her husband’s many good traits, remembering small moments that showed his character to its advantage. He demonstrated his love daily, and she knew in her heart that if their positions had been reversed and Mr. Bingley had attempted to persuade him away from Elizabeth, Darcy would have refused to abandon her. Jane had been correct; Mr. Bingley alone held responsibility for his actions, for succumbing to the whims of others. Had he truly loved Jane, he would not have abandoned her.

No, she did not love Darcy yet; indeed, there were many aspects of his behavior that she found objectionable, but her heart softened toward him a little more every day, and for a brief moment before sleep claimed her, she wished he still lay beside her.