Page 35 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

I batted his arm. “Perhaps, sir, you should assist with your sister’s selection, and I could then accompany Mrs. Bennet and Mr. Darcy to the church. My guidebook says it has a very fine interior.”

Darcy smirked. “Come, Georgiana, Miss Elizabeth has made me her proxy. I know a bonnet is made of woven straw—surely there is little else to distinguish between them?”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam, you are hopeless. Elizabeth, please do not tease him.”

“Darcy is not to be laughed at?” I cried, taking his arm. “It gives him an uncommon advantage over me. For I will allow that I am always prone to follies and nonsense, which people should laugh at, if only to divert themselves from their other cares and concerns.”

“Is it a vanity, I wonder,” said Darcy, as we turned down the street, “to allow oneself to be the butt of others’ humour? I, myself, would prefer to avoid those weaknesses which expose one to ridicule.”

“Yet, I dearly love to laugh. And if, in doing so, I expose myself, then I must endure it. For if I see whims and inconsistencies in others, then I can hardly protest if they perceive the same in me.”

“You are too good, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “I cannot admit to a similar generosity of spirit, though I cannot but admire yours.” We walked on in silence. Glancing back, I saw Mama and Mr. Darcy—both engaged in animated conversation—walk towards the church.

Certainly, Darcy was the best of brothers. Rather than idling his time outside the shop, he entered with us and proved to know more about bonnets than any man reasonably should.

‘Lizzy,’ whispered Kitty, ‘he can tell the difference between a Poke, a Cottage, and a Capote bonnet. Oh, to have such a brother!’

‘And look, a Leghorn bonnet.’ Lydia pulled me towards a bonnet woven from fine Italian wheat straw, its pale golden texture silky under my touch.

Georgiana came over, gazing longingly at it. “Oh no, Fitzwilliam. While I do love it, it’s too fine to have me lose on our next boat trip, or blown away taking the view from some rocky crag. Perhaps a cottage bonnet would suit, for the rim is not too wide, and I would prefer one which doesn’t catch the wind.”

We agreed on a bonnet—two, for Darcy jokingly said that Georgiana must have a spare—otherwise, we would spend all our time in Kendal, which, though a delightful town, held interest sufficient for only one visit, let alone the few weeks that remained of their time touring the Lakes.

A few weeks? Mama and I had intended a full month in Cumbria. Certainly, to spend most of that in the company of Miss Darcy, Mr. George Darcy, and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy would be a pleasure I had not anticipated. We had been in company only two full days; yet, they were among the most agreeable of my life.

* * *

Mama returned with Mr. Darcy shortly after we had returned to the George and Dragon. I had never seen her so excited.

“Lizzy, you should see the Holy Trinity Church—it is quite wonderful,” she exclaimed, taking my arm. “There are five aisles; five, no less! The scale of the interior left me breathless—just as I was after Mr. Bennet asked to court me. And the history—I daresay I could not have had a better guide. Why, Mr. Darcy told me that Queen Katherine Parr worshipped there; and a Royalist knight—Robin the Devil, he was called—rode his horse into the church. Can you believe it? His sword and helmet are on display.”

I am sure she would have dragged me down the street, were it not for the landau arriving just at that moment. We ladies excused ourselves in order to use the inn’s retiring room before the journey back to Lake Windermere. When we returned, Darcy was handing a young lady into a post-chaise, an ostler holding the traces, the postilion already mounted on the nearside horse.

“Perhaps we shall see you again, Mr. Darcy,” said the lady, as she sat back upon the bench. A footman turned up the step, and the carriage lurched forward. Georgiana, Mama, and I were walking from the direction of the carriage arch as it passed. Through the front glass I saw two well-dressed ladies: one wearing a jaunty hat, similar to Georgiana’s; the other, a more practical matron’s cap, with a gathered crown and plain front brim edged with lace. Oh, I was as bad as Kitty or Lydia, noticing such detail. Of course, I was curious that the ladies were known to Darcy.

“Georgiana, you were unfortunate to miss them. Lady Augustus and her daughter, Miss Eustacia Augustus, who have come to take the Cumbrian air, were just departing as our carriage came up. Do you recall the lady—an acquaintance of Lady Matlock?”

“Lady Augustus? I’m not sure…” Georgiana paused. “Oh! I do remember her. Did not Aunt Susan wish to have you and—was it Miss Eustacia?—sit together? I recall you were a little impolite, and took a seat further down the table.”

Darcy coloured, then turned towards me. “You see, Miss Elizabeth, I am not the perfect gentleman. It was rude of me, of course, to leave the young lady. But beforehand, I had told Lady Matlock I particularly wished to sit with Richard, who was due to depart for the Peninsula. Prior to the dinner, he was obliged to spend his time at Horse Guards, and we had never contrived to meet before his departure.”

“Dear me, sir! I am fortunate indeed that the Colonel no longer sups with us. In light of this intelligence, I suspect you would ignore the ladies at the table and spend your time conversing with him to the exclusion of all others. For shame! You must certainly find his conversation more interesting than ours.”

“No, ma’am. You saw me quite garrulous yesterday evening. If I recall correctly, I spoke with you above three times, Mrs. Bennet at least twice, and Georgiana four times.”

I laughed. Oh, Darcy indeed had a dry humour. Both he and Mr. Bennet would have enjoyed each other’s company. We were still chuckling when Mr. Darcy senior returned from settling with the innkeeper and handed Mrs. Bennet into the carriage. He then climbed in himself, avoiding the tangled legs and skirts which followed Georgiana and me as Darcy handed us up. We settled ourselves. Then, with a quiet ‘Come up’, the landau moved forward, the clatter of the Cumberland Bays echoing off the cobblestones and walls of the yard.

“Was that Lady Augustus?” asked Mr. Darcy of his son. “I find I have little time for her society, and even less for her husband, Sir Henry.”

“Indeed, sir,” replied Darcy. “She and her daughter were at the inn, and now journey to Bowness.”

“I should explain, Mrs. Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, looking across to Mama and me. “Sir Henry Augustus is a knight of little renown, apart from making long and tedious speeches in the Commons. His wife is an acquaintance of Lady Matlock, my sister-by-marriage. They have been conspiring for some time to get Fitzwilliam and Miss Eustacia together. Indeed, she is a comely girl, not deficient in manners, with a respectable dowry, and educated in a well-respected seminary… I have said enough—it is not for me to guide Fitzwilliam’s hand.” He settled back, a smile creasing his lips.

Darcy appeared distinctly uncomfortable, and the conversation moved on. Occasionally, whenever I glanced at him, he seemed in deep thought. Perhaps meeting with Miss Eustacia Augustus had aroused thoughts that a man of his consequence must marry—certainly a woman from the upper echelons of society, with distinguished family connections. His father appeared to approve of the match. Her mother, an acquaintance of Lady Matlock, belonged to the highest circles of society. I glanced at Mama, who returned my look. We had grown so alike that I knew she was thinking the same as I was.

“Look!” I cried, breaking the silence, “curlews rising from the meadow.”

“Listen to their calling—what a strange bubbling sound. Please, Papa, can we stop the coach and watch them?”