Much of the architecture appeared ancient as they went, worn stone which one might admire in a ruined castle overlaid with newer stone arches in a gothic style. High above, swathes of carved stone met regularly in a vaulted arrangement she had only seen in cathedrals, and though impressive, the dim glow of candles could only hint at the artistry.
This all, a monument to a time long past, stood as a stark contrast to their rooms and many others they had witnessed, for in them the cold stone had been covered with plaster, paint, and gilding. Some recently, with the fresh gleam of the gilding and the bright fashionable tones untouched by time; others decades prior, patches of gilding faded and the once smooth walls raked with tracts of lost plaster and faded paint. The dining room at which they arrived recalled the latter, the walls, once smooth plaster and painted in a bright yellow, now displayed thirty or more years of neglect.
“Miss Bennet. Miss Elizabeth. Miss Mary,” Lady Charmane greeted as they entered the faded space. “Mr. Thomson, Lord Brayburn, and Miss Umbridge you met when you arrived. Miss Anne Edmund and Miss Sarah Wordsworth arrived only an hour ago, they are from Plymouth. Our young reverend and a local baron will join us in a day or two when their schedules allow; their presence, and the three gentlemen I see coming our way, ought to make it a jolly party. I leave the introductions as they are, however improperly I have done so, for the food is prepared and I dare not injure the sensibilities of my cook.”
“Of course,” several in the room answered, Mr. Darcy, the Colonel, and Mr. Bingley joining the throng.
Accepting her seat between Mr. Darcy and Lord Brayburn, Elizabeth greeted both gentlemen as footmen began to serve the first course.
How fortuitous,Elizabeth noted as she glanced between the gentlemen beside her.She had been seated almost exactly where she would have wished to be. True, Lord Brayburn may not have been her first choice–the man as yielding in speech as a turnip–but compared to the odious Mr. Thomson, anyone would be an improvement.
And with Mr. Darcy seated on her other side, the quietness of Lord Brayburn might prove a blessing… so long as she ignored Mr. Darcy’s fine looks and manners, all would be well.
“I trust you have had time to rest after your long journey,” Elizabeth remarked to Mr. Darcy with far more formality than she would have in private. “Though if you are anything like myself, an opportunity to walk might have been more restful than sitting in one’s room. My sisters and I arrived only a few hours before your party and I yearned for a brisk walk; though, I fear that I shall have to wait until tomorrow.”
“I am much rested, I thank you,” he answered graciously, “And I do agree that after hours confined to a carriage a walk would have been welcome… though I believe my cousin is in greater want of it than I.”
“Your cousin?” Elizabeth questioned as she studied the two men Mr. Darcy had arrived with.Mr. Bingley, though a tall man, held no resemblance to the man beside her beyond that point. The Colonel? The curve of his jaw perhaps? The shape of his eyes? Yes. If she studied him close enough she might see some resemblance; not a remarkable one, but one nonetheless.
“Yes. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I are cousins; my mother and his father were siblings. He is a man of action and cannot abide inactivity, such as hours spent in a coach.”
Setting her fork down, Elizabeth’s brows pulled low as she frowned. “Were? One of your parents has died?”
“My mother and father died about five years ago,” Mr. Darcy murmured softly, his lips thinned until he returned his gaze to hers, a sad smile forming as he did.
“Our mother died not long after that,” Elizabeth answered, her expression matching his. “It is not easy; especially now that our father has traveled abroad for his health. Though having four sisters as I do is a help. Do you have any siblings?”
“Two sisters, neither yet out,” he remarked before taking a sip of his drink. “Four sisters you say? Younger or?”
“Jane is the eldest, as you likely gathered, and I am next in age. My youngest sister is not yet out… it must be difficult for you with two. Mine are nearer to us in age than yours, yet I remember well the first year or two. Jane and I sought to be mother and father to our sisters. Mary proved a great help, and Catherine and Lydia surprised us in how well they did… but the grief and the responsibility made it a trying time.”
“As you say, it proved far more challenging in those first years; my youngest, Catherine, withdrew into herself in such a way I knew not how to cope. I admire how you speak of your sisters, and that you all managed as you did. Miss Mary appears a fine young woman as a result; adept enough, it would seem, to manage the gregarious natures of my cousin and Bingley.” Studying Mary and the gentlemen she sat between, he allowed the faintest wisp of a smile as he turned back toward Elizabeth, eyes softening, “It is testament to your remarkable efforts.”
Focusing on her plate, Elizabeth felt her face warm at the compliment. “Jane deserves much of the credit. As does Mary, truthfully; all of my sisters deserve recognition. None of them allowed grief to define them for long. Each rose to the challenges set before them. No. I do not claim they are perfect, but I am proud of them.”
“As you should be.” Smiling, Mr. Darcy mused, “I do wonder if rising to the role of parental figure is what brings such great fondness and pride–for I feel as you do in regard to my own sisters. Always I cared for them, yet, I feel the years since my parents died have caused such familial bonds to increase. What is your view?”
“Much the same, I suppose. We came to disagreements on a rather regular basis before my mother died–though let another insult one and all would rally. Still, I believe that it is not merely the role of parent which brought us all closer together, but also the heartache, trials, and the determination those bring. The closeness often came naturally, however, some came from sheer firmness to increase it.”
“How true,” Mr Darcy began, the spilling of a cup further down the table distracting long enough for Miss Wordsworth to capture Mr. Darcy in conversation.
Lord Brayburn, turning to make conversation with Elizabeth as expected, began with a few usual pleasantries before the informal nature of the evening which Lady Charmane had promised finally came about. Guests, from all corners of the table, making conversation of every sort; from predictions of snow in the morning based on the halo around the moon that night, to insults of Napoleon, on to their host’s plans for renovation.
The endless conversation brought with it amusement and liveliness beyond the norm for a houseful of guests not fully known to one another, and soon, with supper done, Lady Charmane announced that they all ought to make their way to the drawing room; the men included, for she seemed set upon her promise of informality.
Their host rising, Elizabeth’s thoughts wandered as everyone prepared to follow.
The Countess proved an odd combination of refined eccentricity and mischievous matron. If only she would speak of Mother, or at least mention why they were invited.
A full half hour they had been alone with Lady Charmane earlier, and yet, there had been no opportunity to question her. Or rather, there had been, but every time any of them hoped to inquire, their host had altered the topic in such a way as to provide no hope of returning to where they had been.
Puzzling and maddening in the same breath,Elizabeth mused as she entered the drawing room.Still, they had the better part of three weeks to get their answers, and for all that she might wish to learn them now, the presence of so many must mean she set it aside.
For one evening.
Accepting a seat beside Jane, Elizabeth turned toward the pianoforte, Miss Wordsworth taking her place behind its keys–the first of the ladies to volunteer to provide entertainment.
Back straight, Miss Wordsworth pounded out a dramatic melody, her touch adding gravitas to the piece whether it required it or not; the eyes of all those in the room wide as they sat to attention. Whatever weariness from their travels any of the guests may have had would not be allowed to remain in light of such a performance.
