Page 53 of The Heroic Mr Darcy's Bad Manners
“I am grateful for the honour you have bestowed upon me, but you are still of a sound mind and an excellent representative of our family in the House of Lords. I shall do my duty when I no longer have a choice in the matter,” Lord Glentworth declared.
“Then I proclaim that your choice is hereby irrevocably rescinded. I am in my seventh decade, and you have much to learn. I shall not be moved in this. We leave for town on the morrow. If I have to use force, I shall not hesitate to cast you in irons to accomplish it.”
Lord Glentworth’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he hung his head. “How can I abide the cruelty of town, hobnob with the despicable peerage—associate with the malefactors that killed my twin sister?” he spokesotto voce. “I simply cannot abide the thought…”
Elizabeth was shocked. Her grandmother had begged her not to enquire about her daughter, but not for a moment had she imagined murder could be the reason.
The marquess modulated his voice and spoke matter-of-factly, as one would to a child. “I am not unfeeling as to your loss, especially considering the tight bond the two of you shared, but Catherine would never wish for her demise to haunt every aspect of your life. She was lively and vivacious, as were you before all of this happened. As for the Campbells, who must take the majority of the blame, the likelihood of encountering any of them is slim, and the baronet died last May.”
It was the third time Elizabeth had heard mention of someone with the name Campbell; it could not be a coincidence that none of them were pleasant… Had her aunt Catherine been run over by a carriage, shot, or fallen at the hand of an abusive husband? Elizabeth’s imagination reeled with possibilities, each one more outrageous than the last.
“Am I to have no say in the matter?” Lord Glentworth complained.
“No. You should let your mother’s excellent example guide you. She has managed her grief and does what is expected of her and beyond, though she was not spared the gruesome sight any more than you.” And so, the marquess ended his tirade.
“Papa!” Elizabeth cried.
“Not now, Lizzy.” He dismissed her and stormed to his book room with his mother and wife trailing close behind.
The five Glentworth sisters all turned to the marquess for enlightenment.
“The less said about old grievances the better,” their uncle replied to the unspoken questions. “I say it is best not to burden you lovely young ladies with what cannot be undone. I suggest you go to your rooms and finish your packing.”
All the sisters did as he demanded, albeit reluctantly. They gathered in Jane’s room and soon discovered that not one of them had any idea what had happened. The only one who knew a Catherine Bennet had ever existed was Elizabeth, who had happened upon her portrait in her grandmother’s bedroom. She gave as accurate a description as she could of the young blonde girl and her eerie resemblance to their father. It was strange indeed that she had never been mentioned, and that alone provoked wild speculations for the rest of the evening. But no begging or cajoling remotely tempted the adults to reveal anything of significance. In this instance, even their mother remained tight-lipped.
As Lord Limerick had declared, the entire Glentworth family left at the break of dawn in a three-carriage procession. In the first carriage, while the gentlemen sat silently glowering, the dowager reminded her daughter-in-law about an oft-discussed subject. The expectations in town regarding a prominent family with five daughters differed vastly from the country. It was not done to have all daughters out at once. When Lady Glentworth protested, Mrs Maeve Bennet gently reminded her of the considerable cost to have all five girls fitted at once. Not that they were poor, but they were not made of money. She brooked no opposition; Lydia and Kitty were too young and wild to be out, and she suggested Lady Glentworth should hire a governess at the first opportunity. Mary had declared herself not out and was allowed to wait another year.
In the second carriage the four eldest sisters continued debating the mystery at hand, whilst a sullen Lydia had to ride with three upper servants. Mrs Maeve Bennet’s lady’s maid had once been a governess but had chosen to train herself for a different profession after minding a particularly exuberant flock of children. She had the youngest Bennet daughter well in hand by the time they arrived at Limerick House, and Lydia’s mood improved upon espying her refurbished chamber. Limerick House was grand enough that all the sisters had their own room, and for one who had shared all her life with a snoring sister, such a luxury was a blessing indeed.
They settled easily into town life, and a selection of governesses were interviewed over the coming days. After a week, the knocker was put up and the parlour readied for callers. Mrs Maeve Bennet predicted a plethora of curious visitors and declared that only Elizabeth and Jane would receive them, with herself as chaperon. Lady Glentworth adhered to her mother-in-law’s strictures with alacrity and declared that her nerves needed a bit more time before entering London’s superior society.
Chapter 18 Pitch the Woo
Amongst their morning callers were the Matlock brothers, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Viscount Crawford, with whom Elizabeth had danced at Lady Middleton’s ball.
“Lady Elizabeth,” the colonel demanded her attention. “I have brought my brother because I believe he owes you an apology.”
Elizabeth rose from the sofa. “You may both follow me,” she replied evenly, escorting the gentlemen to the far corner for a modicum of privacy. She was out of favour towards the brothers for setting the disgraceful wager.
“The colonel here has convinced me that I owe you my sincerest apologies for prompting Darcy to dance with you with the lure of monetary gain. I assure you that ten guineas would not have persuaded my obstinate cousin if he were not already inclined to beg you for a set. I am solely to blame, and neither my brother nor Darcy have any share in the guilt. In Darcy’s defence, I must acknowledge that he never accepted my guineas. I know not how you came about this knowledge.” The viscount glared at his brother, who appeared unmoved by the scowl.
“Your brother is innocent. I was informed by a lady who is Mr Darcy’s particular friend.”
“How vicious to relate such an unladylike tale!” the viscount exclaimed, clearly happy to foist the blame upon anyone but himself. “I must assume that she is no friend of yours, Lady Elizabeth.”
“Of that there cannot be two opinions. Yet, she did not know I was the lady she was speaking about and must therefore be exempt from malicious intent. What I would like to know is why you spoke so decidedly in favour of Mr Darcy and lauded his prowess—to me of all people?”
“I thought that was obvious,” the viscount grumbled. “I never saw a man so madly, wildly, and romantically in love with any daughter of Eve as your Mr Darcy.”
Elizabeth laughed heartily whilst she shook her head in bewilderment. “Do not be ridiculous. I am of a mind not to believe a word you say because I know from the man himself that I am barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him.” Elizabeth overlooked the viscount’s stunned expression, mostly because she did not want insincere refutations of Mr Darcy’s bad manners. She expertly changed the subject. “In my limited experience, gentlemen can have only two emotions.” Elizabeth smiled disarmingly. It no longer injured her to speak about the insult. It was much more fun to make sport of Mr Darcy and laugh at his fastidiousness. “Love is not one of them.”
“And which would they be?” the colonel queried with raised eyebrows.
“They are either vexed or not,” Elizabeth replied decidedly.
“And some ladies express opinions that are not their own for the pleasure of a debate.” The colonel smiled.
“It is impolitic of you to expose my true character to your brother when I had hoped to pass myself off with some degree of credit.”
