Mrs. Rigby spent most of her days with the ladies of the house. Though she didn’t give any defined lessons, she gave the sisters bits of information here and there.
Much of what she taught them were behaviors that they already knew but that were exaggerated a bit to make them more formal, such as adding extra grace to their curtseys or emphasizing the calmness in their speech. There was also quitea bit of advice on how to wear their status so that others would respect them.
There was one conversation, however, that stuck with Elizabeth, and she was certain that Jane pondered it a great deal, as well.
“I know you girls are somewhat removed from society at the moment,” said Mrs. Rigby one morning, “but at some point you will be going to London to mingle among others of your rank, possibly looking for a husband.”
“We have no need to look for a husband,” said Elizabeth, “at least not for any mercenary motives.”
“No, of course not,” said the lady. “You and your family will be well taken care of whether you marry or not. You are among the few ladies who can say that. However, I know from experience that being married is far superior to remaining single if you can find the right man. Besides, in your case, Lady Northdale, you will need to secure the succession of the title. You must marry, and everyone around you will breathe more easily if it is sooner rather than later.”
“I am aware,” said Jane. Elizabeth thought she detected the barest hint of asperity in her tone. “This is all so new to me, however, that I have not even thought about what kind of man will make a suitable husband.”
“Personally, I would recommend a second or third son of a peer, though preferably not lower than an earl,” said Mrs. Rigby. “Such a man should have been raised with appropriate manners, but they will not have a title of their own to compete with yours. If possible, find one who does not resent his placement as the younger son, for that makes it less likely that he will resent you for your power.”
Jane shook her head. “I cannot imagine such a man,” she said. “Any gentleman who must make his own way in the world while his older brother is handed everything would have to resent such a situation. It is only natural.”
“There are some men, though they are rare, who don’t wish for a great deal of responsibility,” said Mrs. Rigby. “Perhaps, you can find someone like that.”
“Papa is like that,” said Elizabeth. “I have always suspected that if he had an older brother, Papa would have been perfectly happy to live his life as a scholar or tutor at Oxford, even though doing so would have him living with a much lower income.”
“Perhaps I shall get lucky, then,” said Jane, though she sounded doubtful.
“One thing to keep in mind is that it is entirely possible you will have to be the one to propose when you do find a man you might like to marry,” said Mrs. Rigby.
“That cannot be,” said Jane. “Men are always the ones to propose. That is standard.”
“Not exactly,” said Mrs. Rigby. “It only seems that way, because it is rare for anything else to be necessary. However, because of your title and your status as future duchess suo jure, any man lower than a marquess or perhaps an earl will not feel that they can approach you. It is the same concept that prevents the wife of a baronet from inviting a duchess to dinner unless the two are already well acquainted.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” said Jane, “though I think it may take some time to get used to the idea.”
“Does that mean that I will have to propose as well?” asked Elizabeth.
“It is unlikely, unless the man you wish to marry is completely untitled,” said Mrs. Rigby.
An image of Mr. Darcy as he declared his love and affection to her in Charlotte’s parlor swam to the surface of Elizabeth’s mind. He was untitled. Perhaps Mrs. Rigby was correct. If she was, Mr. Darcy would never renew his addresses.
A wave of sadness passed through her, shocking her as it left. Had her opinion of the man changed so dramatically? Did she secretly want his attention and affection? Did she want him to propose?
The idea was shocking, since she had spent the last seven months disliking the man intensely. Still, she couldn’t dismiss it completely. Here at Lockwood, where they were separated from society, where they were on much more equal and familiar footing, he was so very different from the man she had known before.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rigby,” said Elizabeth. “Though we are unlikely to mingle amongst society much before the autumn, this is definitely something to be aware of.”
Chapter 8
On May first, Mr. Bennet told his daughters over breakfast, “Well, my dears, the paper is finally hung in your mother’s and sisters’ bedrooms. The sheets and blankets are ready. I believe it might be time for me to fetch the rest of our family and inform them that their lives are about to be turned upside down.”
“If that is the case, my sister and I can be ready to depart by noon,” said Mr. Darcy. “Now that the rest of your family will be arriving, I am certain you would rather have your house to yourself to become accustomed to your new lives.”
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for all your help,” said the duke. “If it was not for your help, I would likely be floundering away for months if not years.”
“You are, of course, most welcome,” said Mr. Darcy.
There was silence at the table for a time as each of them focused on their food and secretly mourned the necessity of their impending separation. Jane and Elizabeth would miss Georgiana’s company. Mrs. Rigby and Mrs. Annesley would miss each other. Mr. Darcy, though he could not give any hint about his feelings, would most definitely miss the ability to be in Lady Elizabeth’s company every day.
After a few minutes, Mr. Warburton brought in a letter. “This was delivered as an express, Your Grace,” he said.
Elizabeth watched her father as he read the letter. His face went from stern to stormy to furious in seconds.
