Page 2 of Lord Lonbourn's Daughter
Long-faced, his friend admitted defeat and agreed to return home after dancing only a few sets. Darcy had not engaged anyone all evening. He had spotted one lady he had once considered, but she had recently married and was no longer a contestant. It would be a waste of time to ask her for a set now. Just like this whole evening had been.
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“I resent having to leave so early, Charles. It is not like you not to stay until the end.”
Miss Bingley’s grating voice, delivered in a whining tone, did nothing to relieve Darcy’s pounding head, but he could at least prevent his friend from taking the blame.
“It was I who begged off early, madam. You could have remained at the ball had you not insisted that we needed only the one carriage.”
“Oh, Mr Darcy, it is no inconvenience, I assure you. We should have stayed at home for an intimate dinner and foregone the crush altogether. The Longbourn girls were nothing remarkable.”
Miss Bingley had been introduced to the elusive ladies. There was something to the rumours after all.
“Really?”
He cursed his high-pitched tone of voice. Not only because it increased his headache but because it made him sound more interested than he wished to appear.
“Yes. Mr Gardiner, my brother’s man of business, introduced me. I was astonished to see him there, a tradesman at Lordwhatshisname’s ball! I am sure you would never invite a shopkeeper to your ball, Mr Darcy,” Miss Bingley simpered.
He deigned not to answer as he would invite Bingley…
“Anyhow, Mr Gardiner is related to Lord Longbourn by marriage. He is his lordship’s wife’s brother, I believe. By your countenance, I gather you were spared that unfortunate acquaintance.”
“How can the daughters of an earl be an unfortunate acquaintance?” Bingley enquired incredulously. “I am appalled by your insinuations. Such a connection would be beneficial to us all.”
“Surely not. They were a dowdy lot—not at all fashionable. The eldest freely admitted that she did not play the pianoforte, and the second eldest, Elizabeth, laughed aloud—in a ballroom. Preposterous! The third was a mousy little thing named Mary. She seemed something of a bluestocking—much too knowledgeable to be considered a lady. It was in every way apparent that they are country born and bred.”
“As are all members of the peerage, Miss Bingley. Having a country estate is the lot of the gentry,” Darcy drawled. He was rather enjoying the debate.
“Of course, Mr Darcy, but I am sure Longbourn is nothing to Pemberley. Their eldest, Jane, I acknowledge as a sweet girl, but she is almost two-and-twenty. What could they mean by waiting so long to introduce her into society?
“The second eldest is twenty, so there was no reason to wait if the sisters wanted to have their come out together. The third sister, the mousy one, is eighteen.”
Darcy’s thoughts immediately turned to his beloved sister. Waiting another two years instead of one was tempting. Hedid not mind having her at home for an additional year, and Georgiana would relish the thought. If it was good enough for the Earl of Longbourn, he should not question it, but he knew another earl who might be opposed.
He had never even considered that she might not marry after her first Season. He looked at Miss Bingley, who had temporarily forgotten her own age of four-and-twenty.
“There must be something seriously wrong with them,” Miss Bingley continued her disparagement, “since their parents have waited so long to introduce them into society. Perhaps their coffers are empty. The gowns they wore certainly suggested they are not affluent. I swear they were at least two if not three years out of fashion. And none of the sisters have been to any of the seminaries to learn any accomplishments.”
Darcy refrained from remarking that most girls of the peerage were taught at home. Most could afford to bring all the masters they required to their estate or move to their house in town where they could hire whoever was needed. The seminaries for young girls were typically used by the lower gentry, tradesmen, and brothers who were in over their heads with responsibilities. He regretted sending his sister to that sordid establishment about which he had been so thoroughly deceived.
“Mark my words, there is something off here, and I intend to ferret it out.” Miss Bingley tapped her nose knowingly.
As if Miss Bingley, the daughter of a tradesman, had any say amongst superior society. Darcy refrained from commenting out of compassion for her brother and instead tried to remember what he knew of Lord Longbourn.
He had come to Cambridge to view some first editions Darcy’s professor had acquired. They were friends and had been colleagues before the tragedy at Longbourn Castle had elevated the rank of Mr Thomas Bennet to earl. The castle had suffered considerable damage, but the Longbourn earldom was a wealthy, land-rich property, and he doubted the restoration would have depleted his coffers completely. Lord Longbourn had bought the tomes at a steep price, so he had to have funds. His clothes had not been of the latest fashion, but they were well-tailored. The earl had given the impression of being sharp-witted and good-natured, if somewhat madcap. His shoulder-length hair had been tied in an unfashionable queue[1], which had been all the rage the previous decade.
“Their dowries are a mere twenty thousand pounds. One would expect the daughters of an earl to have more than the average miss. I myself have a similar fortune.” Miss Bingley preened and fluttered her lashes towards a contemplative Darcy, who pretended not to notice.
“You should remember, dear sister, that had our parents been blessed with five daughters your portion would have been only four figures.”
Miss Bingley huffed and narrowed her eyes. “Thank heavens our dear parents showed some restraint. Who has need of five daughters?”
“Caroline!”
Bingley’s admonishments went unheeded as usual. Miss Bingley obviously believed she was equal in fortune and vastly superior in everything else. And nothing he or Bingley said would convince her otherwise, so he wisely held his tongue.
Finally, they arrived at the Bingley residence. Miss Bingley tarried, as was her wont. While a few seconds one way or theother made little difference, it was definitely more grating than endearing when one wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
