A Matchmaking Mother Read online

  “It is from Mama,” said Jane in a quiet voice when the post was delivered.

  Mrs. Bennet was not a great letter writer, and what she did write was filled with nonsensical instructions and improper suggestions. Assuming it was more of the same, Elizabeth nodded and allowed the matter to rest for the moment to attend their hosts. Later, when they were at liberty to discuss the letter, she would discover what it contained.

  Though Elizabeth was not in any condition to consider the matter rationally, she realized later that Lady Anne must have seen something in their faces, for she found them not long after, but once they had read through the letter. As the door opened and the lady stepped in, surveying them, Elizabeth fell silent, not wishing to debate her family’s foibles in front of a woman whose opinion was becoming important to her.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Lady Anne as she watched them both closely.

  “We have just received a letter from our mother,” said Elizabeth, attempting to portray it as nothing more than some correspondence.

  Lady Anne directed a grave look at them both. “I have observed that your mother’s letters often cause consternation. Furthermore, when I stepped into this room, it seemed like you were both eight years of age and caught in some mischief.”

  In any other circumstance, Elizabeth might have seen the humor in Lady Anne’s comments. At present, however, with her mother’s threats looming, there was little to be gained in laughing. Lady Anne closed the door behind her and approached them, her firm gaze never wavering, and when she sat nearby, she eyed them.

  “If you do not wish to share your troubles with me, I shall not press the matter. However, I would have you both know that I am willing to help if it is something with which I may assist.”

  Elizabeth shared a look with Jane. Neither wished to portray their mother’s character any worse than Lady Anne likely already knew. But as the letter primarily concerned Jane, Elizabeth allowed her sister to decide.

  “Our mother has suggested she might come to town,” said Jane in a quiet tone.

  An elegant eyebrow rose, and Lady Anne said: “Though I would not presume to speak ill of your mother, it was obvious upon meeting her that she . . . struggles with proper behavior. Still, I would not have thought her capable of inviting herself to join you here.”

  Jane’s eyes widened and she exclaimed: “Mama would never do that!”

  Though Elizabeth suspected her mother might, in fact, do such a thing if it crossed her mind, she agreed with Jane in this instance. “If Mama came to town, she would stay with the Gardiners.”

  “Then why are you concerned?” asked Lady Anne.

  “Because she no longer considers Mr. Bingley an appropriate suitor.”

  The words hung in the air between them, Lady Anne looking on with some gravity, while Jane attempted to look anywhere but at her host. For Elizabeth, the curiosity she felt was overwhelming her shame at this woman knowing of her mother’s foibles.

  “In what way?”

  The question hung between them, but when neither sister responded, Lady Anne showed her insight. “Unless I am mistaken, is it because you are now staying with my family, and she considers your prospects as much higher than the son of a tradesman?”

  Their expressions must have told her she guessed right, but Elizabeth would never have expected the slight smile which appeared on her face. For a moment she gazed at Lady Anne in shock.

  “I offer my apologies for my mother’s lack of tact, Lady Anne,” said Elizabeth, uncertain what else to say.

  “Do you suppose I have never seen similar behavior from any other woman of your mother’s position in society?”

  “Perhaps you have,” replied Elizabeth. “But we are staying here because of your generosity. It would be poor repayment for your kindness if our mother were to insert herself into our midst and embarrass us all.”

  “I suppose it would be,” said Lady Anne. “But I doubt it will come to that. Please, Jane, Elizabeth, tell me more about your mother.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “Mother was not born a gentlewoman, though, as you know, there are gentlefolk in her ancestry. This has left her with little understanding of how to behave in the manner those of her station should. As the entail has long been a concern, with no son to inherit, she has worried we will all lose our home when our father is gone, leaving us in a form of genteel poverty. Thus, she considers it best that we all marry, so we may be provided for.”

  “She is correct, you know,” said Lady Anne, turning a pointed look on Elizabeth.

  “Of course, she is,” said Elizabeth, with a little more heat than she intended. “But I wish to have the right to choose my husband for myself and not be embarrassed by my mother’s ways.”

  “That is understandable,” replied Lady Anne.

  Though aware they were spilling family secrets and embarrassing ones at that, Elizabeth felt they could trust Lady Anne. She listened as they spoke, injecting a comment or two where required, but there was little they did not share with her. When they fell silent, Lady Anne remained quiet herself.

  “Your frustration is understandable,” said she at length. “Though I would not seek to cast blame and I am certain you understand already, some of the responsibility belongs to your father. As your mother is not equipped to move in the society to which your father has raised her, it was his responsibility to educate her, and he has not.”

  Jane was uncomfortable with the criticism of her father, though Elizabeth knew Jane could not dispute it. For Elizabeth herself, it was a subject which had always given her consternation, though she could never escape the truth.

  “But all is not lost.” Lady Anne favored them with genuine affection and added: “It seems to me your mother must learn a little decorum. From what I saw at the ball, her manners are not beyond all redemption.”

  “Who will teach her?” asked Elizabeth, Jane nodding by her side. “My father will not, and she will not listen to a mere daughter.”

  “Oh, you never know when someone will become a mentor.” Lady Anne’s manner was mysterious. “I have seen her like many times, I assure you, so it is not uncommon.”

  “The lady directed a serious look at them, and then spoke again, saying: “I must assume your youngest sisters are another concern for you?”

  “You have met them,” was Elizabeth’s simple reply. “Kitty and Lydia are nothing short of wild.”

  “That is unfair, Lizzy,” said Jane, though the tone of her voice suggested her protest was more because of loyalty than conviction.

  “I have only seen your sisters one evening in company,” said Lady Anne, directing sympathy at Jane, “but from what I witnessed, I can say without reservation your sisters require much amendment before their behavior will be acceptable in society. They should not even be out in Meryton, given how they behave.”

  The tendency for Jane to defend the indefensible was on display, as she struggled to find a response. When it became apparent she could muster nothing, Lady Anne leaned forward and patted her hand.

  “Do not concern yourself, Jane. Or you Lizzy,” added she with a smile. “There are some years yet before your sisters reach maturity, and much may change in the interim. In the meantime, I suggest you write to your father, asking him to step in. Your uncle also seems to be aware of his sister’s shortcomings—perhaps if he wrote to your mother informing her he will not host her at present, that would be enough to foil her plans.”

  “Thank you, Lady Anne,” said Elizabeth. “I shall do just that.”

  And so Elizabeth wrote the letter and dispatched it, along with a note for her uncle, explaining the situation to him. Now there was nothing to do but hope it would be enough.

  The sigh that escaped Anne’s lips when the Bennet sisters left the room was as inexorable as the tide, though it was not directed at those two wonderful girls. To be nothing but honest, her annoyance was not even directed at Mrs. Bennet, for she knew the woman could not help her nature. It was not even Mr. Bennet who e
arned her pique, though matters would be much easier if he had not abrogated his responsibilities toward his wife and daughters.

  There was no help for it, she supposed, for the situation was what it was. Though for a time Anne had wondered if her son would ever see the gem in front of him, she was now convinced he was coming around. If he decided Elizabeth was the woman he wanted, nothing would stand in his way.

  Other than Elizabeth herself, thought Anne with a smile. The girl was perhaps the most independent Anne had ever met, which was interesting, considering she was not truly unfettered given the financial situation of her family. Elizabeth, however, would not accept William if she was not convinced of his ability to make her happy—or her own to make him happy. Her situation would not factor into her decision.

  It was this, in part, which would make her such a wonderful wife for Anne’s son. Many were the lady who attempted to capture William’s attention, and all for his position in society and the wealth of the Darcy family. There were not five women in all England, Anne estimated, who would refuse William’s offer of marriage on such grounds. And William needed such a woman for a wife, or he would be miserable.

  The question was, what to do about the Bennets. Other than a tendency to laughter when he should be a mentor, Mr. Bennet was acceptable, and Anne did not think he would be much in society regardless. The behavior of the middle daughter, Mary, was also not a major problem, though there were issues which would need to be addressed. No, the real problems were the characters of the mother and the youngest two daughters.

  Anne was convinced Mrs. Bennet’s behavior could be amended with little difficulty, for she was so much in awe of them that Anne could bring her to heel without difficulty. If that did not work, an introduction to Susan, who would be eager to assist, would do the trick. The younger girls were a different matter altogether. Titles would not impress them, and their eyes would be fixed solely on the amusements of society.

  That would be their undoing, and the undoing of the entire family. Society could be cruel when a woman’s behavior did not measure up to what was expected; except when the offender possessed standing or fortune—then all could be ignored. Young, unknown ladies such as Misses Kitty and Lydia would have none of this protection and would quickly find themselves a laughingstock. This would, in turn, affect the Darcy family, and by extension the Fitzwilliams. That would not do.

  Though Anne was not certain what to do yet, she knew something must be done to improve them, lest the Bennets embarrass them all. Should the marriage between William and Elizabeth come to fruition, Anne would need to take steps at that point. Perhaps school would be an option, or perhaps she could take a hand herself. Mr. Bennet would be no impediment, and if Anne succeeded in amending Mrs. Bennet’s behavior, she would see the need to improve her daughters as well.

  Another sigh escaped her lips and Anne rose, determined to think on the matter no more. This was all hypothetical unless William made an offer to Elizabeth. Until then, she would bide her time. But she would not hesitate to act if events played out the way she expected.

  It was at another gathering of the extended Darcy family that Elizabeth found herself amused by Lady Catherine’s antics. The woman was in fine form that evening, pushing her daughter and Mr. Darcy together at every opportunity, speaking incessantly of their upcoming union, and speaking of it as if it was a matter already decided. Mr. Darcy, it was clear to see, was becoming aggravated, for his responses to her words were becoming less patient and ever more clipped.

  Miss de Bourgh’s feelings on the matter, however, were opaque, for the woman did not speak much, and made no attempt to induce her mother to cease her machinations. Even the occasional pointed comment from the earl did nothing to stem Lady Catherine’s incessant meddling. Thus, it was a relief when her sisters finally distracted her.

  A moment of observing Miss de Bourgh convinced Elizabeth she would like to come to know the woman better to understand her. Thus, when Elizabeth was certain Lady Catherine was occupied and would not protest Elizabeth contaminating her dear daughter, Elizabeth rose and made her way to where Miss de Bourgh was sitting.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” asked Elizabeth.

  Miss de Bourgh appeared surprised to be so approached, but she did not object, motioning with her hand for Elizabeth to sit. True to what Elizabeth had observed of her character, however, she did not speak.

  “How are you this evening, Miss de Bourgh?” asked Elizabeth. “Though my sister and I have been staying with your aunt, we have not taken the time to know each other, and I thought we should rectify that lack.”

  Miss de Bourgh’s next act of sneaking a look at her mother—who was still distracted—informed Elizabeth of her companion’s concern for what her mother would say. Then she looked back at Elizabeth and seemed mystified.

  “Is there any point? You are not to stay with my aunt forever.”

  “The length of my stay does not determine the extent of my desire to form new acquaintances.”

  When Elizabeth smiled, Miss de Bourgh returned it, albeit in a tentative fashion, and Elizabeth wondered if she had ever had anyone she could call a friend. Though she might have thought Lady Catherine would allow her to associate with those of like status in the world, it was possible the woman was so focused on Mr. Darcy as a son-in-law that she had protected her daughter against acquaintances of any kind, and not just gentlemen seeking a wealthy wife.

  Thus began a conversation which was slow and halting, but gradually became easier. Elizabeth had the distinct impression that her initial thoughts were correct, that Miss de Bourgh’s social skills were not well developed, though she had been out in society for several years now, being Jane’s age. But soon Elizabeth found her eager to make a connection, though perhaps not adept at going about it. Reticent though she was, Elizabeth thought she would make a good friend, if Lady Catherine should allow it.

  After speaking together for some short amount of time, the subject turned to their presence in London during the season, and Elizabeth learned some things about Miss de Bourgh which did not shock her.

  “Oh, we attend the season every year,” said Miss de Bourgh. “Mama believes in keeping up appearances.”

  “Do you enjoy attending?” asked Elizabeth.

  Miss de Bourgh’s answer was a shrug, coupled with a softly spoken: “London is more interesting than Rosings, I suppose, but many of the events I do not care for.” Then she paused and spoke under her breath: “Not that Mama concerns herself with my preferences.”

  As Elizabeth was certain Miss de Bourgh had not intended her to overhear, she did not mention it, though it confirmed her suspicions. Instead, she changed the subject to preferences and was interested to discover that Miss de Bourgh loved art and music and possessed some talent in painting. What she did not enjoy as much were the social aspects of the season: balls, dinners, parties and the like. Then the subject turned again.

  “Am I to congratulate you on your forthcoming engagement?”

  Miss de Bourgh snuck a look at Mr. Darcy, who was speaking with Lord Matlock, and then at her mother—Lady Catherine had become aware of Elizabeth’s conversation with her daughter but was still occupied with her sisters.

  “Mama does wish for it, but I do not know what William means to do.”

  “Do you not wish to marry him?”

  “I cannot say,” said she with a shrug. “Though I do not have any real desire to marry William, I am not opposed to it either.”

  “If you will pardon my saying so, it seems to me that one should have an opinion on such an important subject as one’s partner in marriage.”

  A slight smile appeared on Miss de Bourgh’s face. “I will not say you are incorrect, but I will point out you are not the daughter of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Since my earliest years, my mother has told me I will marry William, and as she is not a woman to hear any dissent, I keep my own counsel.”

  “Then if he proposes, you will accept?”

  “I supp
ose I likely will,” replied Miss de Bourgh. “But until he does, there is little point thinking of it, and to contradict my mother would make her angry. If William decides he wishes to marry elsewhere, Mama will rage and storm, but though she does not acknowledge it, she possesses little influence over her sister and less over William. Once the storm has passed, the matter will be at an end. Perhaps then I may find myself free to direct my affections where I wish.”

  Then Miss de Bourgh shook her head and added: “Then again, knowing Mama as I do, she will then search high and low for a man of high position in society, if only to prove to William that she is unaffected by his rejection.”

  “Anne, Miss Elizabeth, of what are you speaking? Tell me at once, for I must have my part in the conversation.”

  The way Lady Catherine was glaring at her suggested thoughts of contamination were now foremost in her mind. Miss de Bourgh, however, showed a quick wit for she replied before Elizabeth could.

  “I was speaking to Miss Elizabeth of my painting, Mama.”

  “Oh, yes!” said Lady Catherine with unfeigned enthusiasm. Even so, Elizabeth was not certain she believed the lady’s suspicion was extinguished. “Anne has the most exquisite taste coupled with such talent as is rarely seen. Some of her efforts are wondrous to behold.

  “And she receives it all from me, for Sir Lewis was not a man of any artistic talent.”

  The grins Elizabeth could see out of the corners of her eyes informed her that most of Lady Catherine’s words were nothing more than a boast. With such self-importance on display, Elizabeth could not keep from challenging the woman.

  “I did not know you painted, Lady Catherine. If the situation presents itself, I should love to see some of your work.”

  “I do not paint, Miss Elizabeth,” snapped Lady Catherine. “But had I ever learned, I should have been the talk of London, for I would have stopped at nothing to be the best.