Page 64 of The Scarred Duchess
Lady Matlock smiled. “You share the same opinion as my nephew. I will tell you what I have repeatedly said to him—we shall invest our time in making acquaintances, my dear.”
“Lady Catherine de Bourgh,” announced the housekeeper. Aunt Gardiner and Elizabeth rose. A tall woman dressed in a dark, heavily embroidered gown assessed them with her nose in the air. Elizabeth held her breath.
“So, this is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
“I am, your ladyship.”
“I have had the pleasure of dining with Colonel Bennet.”
Elizabeth was left to wonder whether that was a good or a bad thing, as her ladyship offered no more.
“Let us begin tomorrow with my dressmaker. We have much to do and little time before we exhaust ourselves with dinners and dancing.” Lady Catherine levelled a gimlet eye. “You do enjoy dancing, do you not, Miss Elizabeth? And know the dances?”
“I do, ma’am.”
From there proceeded a short but thorough inquisition into Elizabeth’s accomplishments with no indication given as to whether Lady Catherine found them sufficient or wanting. When it was concluded they were awarded the rarest of things: a small smile.
“Then I daresay we are prepared.”
Every morning, precisely at eleven o’clock, Lady Catherine would call for Elizabeth or have the de Bourgh barouche waiting at Gracechurch Street. She was returned precisely one hour before the evening meal after each outing. Rarely did Elizabeth return empty-handed. One memorable evening, several footmen followed her into the Gardiner residence carrying all manner of ladies’ things, discreetly bundled.
At the dining table, Jane was rapt in hearing of the whirlwind of activities Elizabeth and Lady Catherine completed each day.
“Thank goodness for Hatchard’s,” claimed Elizabeth. “Itis the single place in town where I am not subject to death by questions or pin pricks!”
“Oh, Lizzy!” laughed Jane. “How wonderfully you extemporise your adventures.”
Elizabeth spoke of the shopping, the teas, and the morning calls they made to houses of the aristocracy. Aunt Gardiner related Lady Catherine’s delight; Elizabeth’s zest for life made a favourable impression everywhere. Her witty banter entertained the men who joined their calls; her ability to listen and ask questions of interest to her fellow society maidens made her a welcome party member.
Elizabeth’s success is counter to what I am experiencing.
Alas, Jane’s own experience in town was far less charming. When they called upon Lady Matlock’s friends, Jane’s headpieces were a constant topic of conversation. In the times that she removed her veil prior to a call, the drawing room attendees gaped. Conversation dwindled to the basest of the mundane.
The daytime parlour visits were pleasant when compared to evening events. Jane struggled to keep her composure when the matrons separated from the younger groupings. She tried to get on with her social peers, but they spurned her. The eyes of eligible daughters seeking matches immediately turned green with envy and resentment, and their tongues became sharp and cruel, complaining that Jane was no one, unfairly blessed with beauty.
The pangs of envy and spite were not what the male attendees exhibited. Most of the gentlemen stared, often blatantly. It was the titled guests whose brazen behaviour—lewd facial gestures and whispered double-entendres—repeatedly crossed the lines of good manners. Jane was steadfast to be amongst others but once found herself without company while she sought a second cup of tea. Before she could reach the sideboard,an unknown gentleman stepped to her side and expertly guided her to a window; she chose not to make a scene but wondered how Mr Legget would have responded. Unfortunately, he had returned to Longbourn to watch over her younger sisters.
She wilfully remained facing away when he whispered over her shoulder, “Miss Bennet. I must say that I find you quite irresistible. You are a rare beauty.”
Jane did her best to disregard his words, as well as the strong aromas of cologne and wine emanating from him.
He was not discouraged. “I despair having arrived late and missed an introduction. I am Marquess Beauford, heir to the Somerset dukedom.”
Jane recognised him as the cousin of whom John spoke so poorly, whose licentious, malevolent behaviour had long been a threat to him and his parents. Unnerved, she continued to look out the window.
“I would be honoured if you would allow me to call on you. Please think of the benefits that would come with such an…association. You could have the best of everything—clothing, jewels, carriages, and more. You would enjoy a luxurious lifestyle that few women in your sphere could dream of.”
When he finished speaking and smiled, his fetid breath surrounded her. She leant away from him, as disgusted by his presence as by what she understood him to be offering.
“My lord, your offer is most generous, but I cannot accept. Excuse me.”
Jane walked away quickly and signalled to Lady Matlock; the visit ended soon after. In the carriage, she refused to elaborate but offered a shocking admission. “I have tired of counting the number of indecent looks and …” she paused. “…offensive suggestions I have received.”
Lady Matlock grasped her hand. “Lord Matlock will not stand by idly, my dear. Neither will your uncle Gardiner, I daresay,” she whispered.
Jane laid her head on Lady Matlock’s shoulder. “It is good to have able protection, is it not?” she asked.
“It is a great comfort, my dear. It is.”
