A Matchmaking Mother Page 3

  “None of this escaped my notice, Miss Bingley.”

  It seemed his mother’s mild replies were beginning to annoy Miss Bingley. For his part, Darcy reflected that most of what Miss Bingley related had quite escaped his notice, though he was not surprised. It was little different from any other evening in company he had experienced with the Bennet family.

  “Then this is the manner of family to which you propose my brother connect himself?”

  It was, Darcy thought, admirable that his mother ignored the accusatory tone Miss Bingley’s frustration was provoking. That did not mean his mother’s well of patience was inexhaustible.

  “The only thing I propose, Miss Bingley,” said she, a hint of hardness in her tone, “is that you allow your brother to make his own decisions without interference. This conversation leads me to believe you think him incapable of directing his own affairs.”

  “I have often rendered assistance to Bingley,” said Darcy, attempting to prevent Miss Bingley from saying something impolitic. “It does not mean he is incapable, but I have often noted he requires a little guidance.”

  Hurst, who had sat without speaking, indifferent to the discussion, laughed and said: “He is a puppy, with boundless energy and an eagerness to lick the hand of everyone he meets!”

  This appeared to be too much, even for Miss Bingley, for her face lit up like a ripe tomato. Mrs. Hurst glared at her husband, who took no notice, while Darcy struggled to refrain from laughing. There was something about Hurst’s description of his brother which was nothing less than apropos.

  “Then again,” said Lady Anne, “I suppose you are determined, so there is nothing else to be done. Since you are abandoning this estate, Georgiana and I cannot stay, though I enjoyed the ball last night. I shall see to our packing.”

  Miss Bingley did not understand Lady Anne’s sudden change of heart, but she was not about to question her good fortune. “It gladdens me you have seen the matter from our perspective, Lady Anne. I anticipate our intimacy in town, for I am certain the lack of society will be no impediment when such good friends are close at hand.”

  “Indeed,” said Lady Anne. “Then we had best be about our business, for we have a busy day. There is not only the packing and closing of the house to see to, but you will, of course, wish to visit some of the principal families of the district and take your leave.”

  Once again Miss Bingley’s countenance fell and she opened her mouth, presumably to disagree. Then she stopped, considered the matter, and let out a sigh of frustration.

  “It would be the proper thing to do, I suppose.”

  “It is,” replied Lady Anne. “To leave without visiting would be a serious breach of etiquette. It is not necessary to visit all the families of the district, but you should visit those with whom you have been friendly. Perhaps the Lucas family and your neighbors to the south?

  “And the Bennets,” added his mother when Miss Bingley was about to agree. The mention of that family once again brought a frown to her face, but Lady Anne was not finished. “You have become close friends with Miss Bennet, as I understand, so visiting them is imperative.”

  Miss Bingley straightened her shoulders, as if setting herself to an unpleasant task and said: “Of course. Then let us be about our duties, for I am eager to depart for London.”

  The morning after the ball, Elizabeth found herself in a state of confusion. Not that it was unwelcome if she was to be honest with herself. After Mr. Collins’s arrival, she had done her best to ignore him, not understanding until a few days before that the man had matrimony on his mind and had chosen her as the companion of his future life. From that point it had been her goal to do everything she could to dissuade him from proposing, knowing what uproar would ensue if she was required to reject him.

  Until the previous evening, Elizabeth had not thought her efforts were bearing any fruit, as evidenced by her dance with the gentleman and his rather ineffectual attempts at paying court to her. The evening spent in the company of Lady Anne and Miss Darcy skewed her perspective and prevented her from understanding when the man’s attentions had cooled. But cooled they had, such that the morning after, as the family rested after their exertions from the previous evening, Mr. Collins held himself aloof from Elizabeth. She thought he was paying more attention to Mary, with whom he had rarely exchanged any words which were not centered on Fordyce.

  “Lizzy!” hissed Mrs. Bennet after some time of this. Mr. Collins had left the room and was not likely to overhear, which was an interesting bit of restraint from her often unrestrained mother. “What have you done to Mr. Collins?”

  “I am sure I have done nothing,” replied Elizabeth. “Why do you ask?”

  “Why do I ask?” echoed her mother. “You must have seen the cooling of his ardor. It was my thought he would be persuaded to offer for you today, and yet he has avoided you as if he thought you diseased. You must have done something to push him away!”

  In fact, I have spent the last week attempting to do everything in my power to dissuade him, thought Elizabeth to herself, stifling a laugh in response to the thought. Mrs. Bennet would not appreciate that observation, though it was nothing less than the truth.

  “I have done nothing,” said she aloud. “Mr. Collins danced the first with me last night and stayed close by whenever he was at liberty thereafter. But I did not see much of him after I made the acquaintance of Lady Anne and Miss Darcy.”

  “Then you must go to him and regain his attention! We must not lose this opportunity, for we must secure Mr. Collins if we are to have a home in the future!”

  It was fortunate visitors arrived at that moment, for it saved Elizabeth an argument with her mother she wished to avoid. But the door knocker sounded, ringing throughout the house, and though Mrs. Bennet glared at Elizabeth, as if suspecting she had somehow contrived the interruption to avoid her inquisition, the demands of presenting her daughters to best advantage took precedence. After a few moments, Mrs. Hill led their visitors into the room, surprising them all when it was the Darcys and Hursts, along with Miss Bingley. Of Mr. Bingley, there was no sign.

  The newcomers were invited to sit with the family, and when everyone was settled, Miss Bingley took the initiative of addressing the company. “Mrs. Bennet, how . . . fortunate it is to be with you all again. And Miss Bennet,” added she, turning to Jane, “I apologize my brother is not here to take his leave, but he went into town very early this morning.”

  This was a piece of information Elizabeth had not yet heard, but to Jane, it was no surprise. “Mr. Bingley informed me of this himself last night. I also know of his intention to return within three or four days.”

  “Yes, I can imagine Charles said that!” Miss Bingley’s attempt at joviality Elizabeth instantly detected as false. “It is my brother’s character, you know, to always be coming and going. When you were at Netherfield, I seem to remember him speaking of his impulsivity and his comfort when in London.”

  “He also spoke of being happy to be in the country too, Miss Bingley,” said Elizabeth.

  “That is true,” said Miss Bingley. “But when he arrives in town, with all its attendant amusements, I am certain he will be in no hurry to leave it again. Thus, we are all closing the house, intending to join him in London. I hope we will depart by tomorrow morning at the latest!”

  Miss Bingley continued to speak at some length, informing them all of her eagerness to return to town, the things they would do and the people they would see. She even hinted, though with an amusing sort of oblique avoidance, of some other attachment she hoped would come to fruition, but though her instantaneous glance at Miss Darcy spoke volumes as to the subject of her hopes, she dared not approach the subject closer with the girl and her mother sitting there. After a moment’s consideration, Elizabeth dismissed it as wishful thinking, for Miss Darcy betrayed no particular interest in Mr. Bingley.

  Of greater concern was the effect the woman’s words were having on Jane—who, though calm to all appearan
ces was showing signs of stress—and Mrs. Bennet—who Elizabeth thought might call for her smelling salts. Mrs. Bennet held on to her composure until Miss Bingley ceased speaking and sat back on the sofa she occupied, a half-smile, self-satisfied and haughty, playing about the corners of her mouth. Had Lady Anne not spoken, Elizabeth was certain her mother would have humiliated them all.

  “We are for town also,” said the lady. “Georgiana and I anticipated a restful time in the country, but it seems our hosts have their hearts set on Christmas in town, which has its own charms.”

  “I suppose it does,” said Mrs. Bennet with an admirable measure of self-control. “My husband does not like town, and as such, we go but rarely, though my brother lives there. It is unfortunate you shall not meet them.”

  “It is a pleasure we shall have to defer for another day,” interposed the insolent Miss Bingley. “As it is, I believe we should depart before long, for we still have much work to do today.”

  “Miss Bingley speaks the truth,” said Lady Anne. “But before we go, it is on my mind that I would like to see more of your excellent daughters, Mrs. Bennet. As such, I would like to invite them to join us in London for the season. Would you be willing to come to us in February?”

  “Oh, Lizzy, Jane!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, her consternation replaced with elation. “What an honor to receive such favor!”

  “Indeed, it is,” added Mr. Collins, who had remained silent. “To be preferred by such as Lady Anne Darcy, sister to my patroness, the venerable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is a privilege few could boast. Why, you might even make Lady Catherine’s acquaintance, for she has informed me herself of her intention to travel to London for the season!”

  While Mr. Collins lost himself in contemplation of the perfections of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth glanced about the room. It was clear no one—save perhaps Miss Darcy—had known of Lady Anne’s intention to invite them to London. Miss Bingley appeared shocked and Mrs. Hurst no less so, while the grim set to Mr. Darcy’s mouth indicated dismay and mounting anger. Lady Anne, however, paid none of them any heed, instead looking to Jane and Elizabeth for their answers.

  “I believe I speak for my sister,” said Jane, “but we would be delighted to accept if it would not be too much trouble.”

  “If it was too much trouble, my dear Miss Bennet,” said Lady Anne, “I assure you I would not have extended the invitation. Georgiana and I will wait eagerly to resume our acquaintance—there will be so much for us to do in town that I am certain you will be glad you came!”

  The arrangements were made, and the approximate dates selected, after which Lady Anne promised to write to them with more information, inviting them to write to her in return. Miss Darcy added her voice to her mother’s, shyly requesting leave to also write to Elizabeth and Jane, both of whom accepted with alacrity. Then Miss Bingley rushed the visitors out of the house, seeming annoyed she had not done so before calamity struck.

  “We are both thrilled you have accepted,” said Lady Anne as they were walking her to the door. “Georgiana will count the days, and I am scarcely less eager. Though it is wonderful to escort my daughter around town, having two additional young ladies will make our party that much more agreeable.”

  “Thank you, Lady Anne,” said Elizabeth. “I believe Jane and I will anticipate our reunion with equal longing.”

  As the party went away, however, Elizabeth noted that Lady Anne spoke of her and her daughter’s anticipation but said nothing of Mr. Darcy’s. The gentleman himself did not speak. But Elizabeth was certain he was feeling all the offense at the prospect of hosting two unsuitable ladies in his elegant London home, and she wondered how he would endure. Then she smiled at him as he was going away, wondering what she might do to further tease and exasperate him.

  Chapter II

  A strained silence in the Darcy carriage characterized the return journey to Netherfield. Darcy could only be grateful Miss Bingley was not unleashing the full measure of her disappointment and knew it was nothing more than the presence of his mother which prevented her. The anger she harbored was not hidden in any meaningful way, and Darcy knew she would not remain silent forever. His expectations were realized when the carriage came to a stop in front of the manor and the occupants disembarked from its cramped confines and made their way to the sitting-room.

  They spent the first few moments settling in for a little refreshment before the task of preparing for their departure again beckoned, allowing those with an opinion on the subject to marshal their thoughts. Miss Bingley, as mistress of the estate, served them all, as was her right, when the service was delivered, and it was not long after when she began to express her opinion.

  “I must confess, Lady Anne,” said she, her tone offhand, “I am surprised at your tolerance for those of a lower station.” She paused and gave his mother an insincere smile, adding: “Not that I expected you to be anything less than welcoming. Your level of comfort with those beneath you is refreshing, to say the least.”

  Lady Anne eyed Miss Bingley over her teacup, considering her hostess. “It is interesting to hear you speak so, Miss Bingley, for, by my estimation, we have not been among unsuitable people. Might I ask you to explain your comment?”

  Feigning shock—or perhaps it was not feigned—Miss Bingley exclaimed: “I must disagree with you most strenuously! There is no one in this district who may be called suitable, and certainly no one we visited this morning.”

  “Are the Bennets not landed?” was Lady Anne’s mild query. “Do they not obtain their living from the rents received by those who farm the land? Is the family not descended from a long line of gentlemen?”

  Miss Bingley opened her mouth to speak, but Darcy’s mother precluded her, saying: “I have no intention of debating the circumstances which make a man a gentleman, Miss Bingley, nor do I wish to examine in exacting detail the levels of society gentlemen inhabit. The only thing I shall ask is this: is it not my business whom I invite into my home?”

  “Of course, Lady Anne,” replied Miss Bingley, backtracking quickly. “It was never my intention to suggest otherwise. If you believe the Bennet sisters to be worth your time, then I must salute your ability to endure the lower classes. I, unfortunately, lack your patience.”

  “Miss Bingley,” said Lady Anne, “I will not say I possess the patience you describe. It is nothing less than the truth that I am the daughter of an earl, and thus have the privilege of the title ‘lady’ before my name. Remember, however, it is a courtesy only, given due to my ancestry. If you consider the matter, my daughter,” mother reached out and touched Georgiana’s cheek with affection, “is only the daughter of a gentleman. In that context, Georgiana is the equal of the Bennet sisters.”

  “But Miss Darcy’s lineage is much greater,” said Miss Bingley, restraining herself from snapping in her frustration. “Who are the Bennets’ ancestors? Who are their mother’s? In consequence, there can be no comparison.”

  “By that last measure, you are correct. But remember this, Miss Bingley,” added Lady Anne, this time her voice infused with steel, “the Bennets may not have riches untold, but they are of gentle stock, and it has often been said that birth trumps wealth. I should ask you to remember this simple fact. Though our meeting with the Miss Bennets was short, I liked them a great deal, and Georgiana agrees with me. I mean to do everything I can to forward our friendship.”

  The steady look with which his mother regarded Miss Bingley was enough to convince the woman she was in earnest, not that Darcy thought it had ever been in doubt. While his mother was not a woman to put herself forward at every opportunity, she was a woman who stood by her convictions. Though Darcy had no notion of what she saw in the Bennet sisters, he knew she would not relent. That did not mean Darcy would not attempt to change her mind.

  The opportunity presented itself later that afternoon. After partaking of the fortifying tea together, the party separated to attend to their various tasks, which, for the Darcys, meant seeing to their personal ef
fects and the status of the servants who had accompanied them. That was no great task, for Snell—Darcy’s manservant—already had matters well in hand, as did Lady Anne and Georgiana’s maids. Thus, Darcy knew while his mother and sister would be supervising their maids, he thought they would be available to speak to him. Thus, he made his way to their adjoining rooms, entering when the maid answered his knock.

  “Are you ready to depart, William?” asked Lady Anne upon spying him.

  “Snell is completing my preparations as we speak,” replied Darcy.

  “Then he is efficient, as usual. I had thought it would take you at least another half hour before you knocked on our door.”

  Darcy could not help the smile which crept over the corners of his lips, for he should have known his mother would anticipate him. But the seriousness of the matter he wished to discuss replaced his mirth. Choosing a seat nearby, Darcy turned to his mother, trying to understand her actions.

  “I would not presume to question your motives, Mother,” said Darcy.

  “Yet you are curious why I would invite the daughters of a country squire to be our guests for the season.”

  Again, Darcy allowed a slight smile. “Yes, that is what I wish to know.”

  His mother considered him for several moments before she spoke, and when she did, it was with a question he had not expected. “Before I reply, might I know why you object to the Bennet family?”

  “Are they not unsuitable?” asked Darcy.

  “Do you not know it is impolite to answer a question with a question?”

  The impudent response prompted a laugh from Darcy. “I might say the same thing, Mother, for is that not what you just did?”

  “As I recall,” was his mother’s prim reply, “you asked no question. You confirmed my conjecture, but you did not pose a question.”