Oh, Elizabeth had made the spinning acquaintance of her share of gentlemen to whom she had no objection to dancing once — or even twice in an evening — with. Men whose conversation entertained her; men with well-informed minds, well-mannered comportment, and well exercised bodies.
A dowry of twenty thousand pounds combined with a reasonable share of beauty and an enticing manner drew all manner of gentlemen, eligible and otherwise. She had seldom sat out a dance during those long nights last season that she spent in London talking about nothing, and then more nothing, and then yet more nothing — it was amazing how young men with rank and breeding and education, and even well-informed minds, could so capably talk about nothing.
She would have previously imagined that a Viscount C, the dearest friend of Lord F, who was the son of the Marquis of Exceedingly Dull could have spoken interestingly on the topics that fascinated Elizabeth — matters scientific, political, historical or even economical.
None of these society gentlemen thought that such topics fell within the scope of feminine interest. Of course they expressed some opinions with full confidence. Opinions which Elizabeth could confidently say were oft better fitted for a village idiot than a peer of the realm.
Caroline had loved the season. Elizabeth had not.
Elizabeth’s mind drifted as Caroline expounded at length upon Mr. Darcy’s virtues: His fine estate with its rolling hills, excellent grazing land for sheep, and the finest park, including those of Blenheim and Chatsworth, that Caroline had ever seen.
“And his connections are the very best. An ancient fortune as well. ‘Twas a lucky thing for us all that Charles fell into such a friendship with such a man.”
“You knowIcare nothing for wealth, connection or consequence,” Elizabeth replied in a haughty voice, before laughing at herself. “You also know I am absurd. But true, honest, in every frank hard, cold and sweet smelling fact, I detect no connection, close or otherwise, between how much I enjoyed conversation with a man and how closely related he is to the Duke of Dull, or the Marquis, of uh…”
“Maudlin?”
“That does not quite match. It is no synonym of dull, and I have not noted Marquesses to be particularly maudlin.”
“And so far as I know you’ve not metanydukes to dull you.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, buteveryyoung gentleman who was introduced to me as the relation of a duke was dull.”
“That cannot be true, what about Percy Montrose — he made you laugh.”
“Catching me in a mistake? What happened to friendship!” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I’ll confessMontyis funny. But only because I like his wife—”
“And youshalllike Mr. Darcy’s Pemberley estatewhenyou see it — a grand library over two stories, with a globe bigger than I am, and more than five thousand volumes. And endless mossy stone pathways about the estate to get lost in. No finer estate in England than Pemberley! I only hope that Charles, when he purchases, will make an imitation of it.”
Elizabeth laughed. “The estate of your gallant sounds a delight, and if you make success in landing him, I’ll happily visit you, though the carriage trip was twice two days.”
“I will count upon you.”
The two girls grinned at each other, then Caroline sighed happily.
“What is it like to be in love?” Elizabeth asked with a soft smile.
“A terrifying delirium.”
“That does not sound pleasant,” Elizabeth replied.
“Oh, but it is! I can listen to him talk for hours about his estate — about the little things, the duties, the ways that he manages everything. He is such an active landowner — I’ve been reading books upon agriculture also. Sheep farming, a great sum of his wealth comes from that. I’ll be a perfect wife if… no,whenhe chooses me. I say ‘when,’ because you know, it is what we say that determines what happens. I heard a fashionable vicar in London quite seriously tell us all, in a very fine sermon, that how we think about things determines what shall happen. If you fear that you will not be worthy of the man who you admire, then you will not be, and he will not see you. It is in the realms of the spirits — this is why one must always pray.”
“I had considered it necessary to pray as that was one’s duty as a good Christian.”
“Yes, yes, but to be a good Christian is good because it makes one in tune with the angels instead of the devils, and if you place your thoughts in proper allegiance with them, then goodness will follow. That is what is meant by the fruits of the spirits.”
Elizabeth laughed. “I had never expected you to have heterodox opinions.”
“No,” Caroline gasped, pressing her hands against her fine boned cheeks. “That cannot be! — this preacher is all the rage. The most fashionable in this year. The most fashionable of all the pulpits in Town. He cannot be heterodox.”
“Well then, I cannot argue, if you say, ‘I shall be Mr. Darcy’s wife’ ten times before you go to bed, and ten more times before you do your toilet in the morning, and if you sincerely believe in what you say, then you shall marry him without any doubt.”
Caroline flushed with embarrassment, and she looked down. “Please, I beg you Eliza, do not make fun — I know you treat all as a joke. I really like him.”
Elizabeth took her friend’s hand and squeezed it. “My dear dear. I then shall not joke. I do dearly love a laugh, but I love you more. I promise you, anything I might do to help promote your case will be done.”
Caroline looked at Elizabeth with a glow in her eyes. “Your care always means a great deal to me!”
