Page 36 of Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet

We had decided to take a route to Windermere through the Lyth Valley, to the southwest of Kendal. It was an excellent habitat for curlews, with its damp meadows and wetlands. We watched them alight near a small tarn, wading through the water’s edge, their elegant, downward-curling beaks always ready to snap up any foolish worm, beetle, spider, or caterpillar which came within their reach.

Too soon, the wonderful day ended with our arrival at the Salutation Hotel. Mama and I retired to our room to change for dinner.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Mama?” I asked as I pinned her hair.

“Oh, Lizzy, I feel so guilty—for, truly, I cannot remember ever being in such pleasant company. George Darcy is so attentive; I feel like a young girl again.”

“Then our trip to the Lakes is just what you needed. There can be no guilt, Mama. You must learn some of my philosophy: think only of the day as its remembrance will give you pleasure on the morrow.”

* * *

Chapter 16

Grasmere

“My dear sir, this is most inconvenient. A lady and her daughter said you were expecting company, and my head waiter has already led them to the table. He mistakenly assumed they were Mrs. and Miss Bennet, also being guests of the hotel.”

“Can we take a larger table? We will need a table for seven.” Mr. Darcy appeared unperturbed—a common occurrence, no doubt, in a country hotel.

“The other tables are reserved,” replied the innkeeper, somewhat embarrassed. “Mayhap I could set places at the head and foot of the table. A little crowded, but if a gentleman were to sit at the foot, the other gentleman and the lady on one side, and the three young ladies to the other, and Mrs. Bennet at the head. Would that be acceptable?” He glanced at Georgiana and me, both possessing trim figures and certainly able to sit close quite comfortably.

We acquiesced to the scheme and followed Mr. Darcy to the table, where a waiter was already placing cutlery at the head and foot, and clearing away one place setting from beside Lady Augustus—she and her daughter were both seated at the table.

“Oh, Mr. Darcy,” said the lady. “When your son, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, described the Salutation Hotel, Eustacia and I agreed at once it would be far superior accommodation to the Old England Inn in Bowness.”

“Lady Augustus, Miss Augustus, let me introduce my dear friends Mrs. Bennet and her daughter Miss Bennet. I believe you have already met my daughter, Miss Darcy, when dining with Lady Matlock.” Mr. Darcy seated Mama at the head, then took his place at the foot, between Lady Augustus to one side, and Miss Augustus on the other. Georgiana and I took our places opposite Darcy, who was beside the lady.

At first, I thought Lady Augustus might object to Mama taking the hostess’s place at the head. She appeared slightly vexed; then seemed to decide that sitting between Mr. Darcy and his son was more to her advantage.

“Mr. Darcy, it is such a delight to find ourselves at table with you this evening,” said Lady Augustus, turning towards Darcy. “What a rarity, these intimate gatherings, away from the noise and press of society balls. Do you not agree, sir?”

Darcy leant back in his chair to allow the waiter to serve the first course. “Indeed, Lady Augustus. One is afforded an opportunity for more—” he paused, as if searching for the right word. “—substantial conversation.”

I caught his eye—poor man. It was clear the ambush had been sprung.

“Exactly so!” continued the lady. “I have always said, the true measure of a person is revealed not in the ballroom, but at dinner, where wit and intelligence are not drowned by the music. Do you not find, Mr. Darcy, that some young ladies shine brightest in such a setting?”

Mama coughed politely into her napkin. Georgiana let her spoon clink quite indecorously on the side of her bowl. Unobtrusively, I took her hand and winked. Oh, this was to be a truly capital meal.

“Oh, I quite agree, Mother!” interposed Eustacia. “I always say I am never so much myself as when I am among a select and discerning company. Large parties are so… fatiguing, do you not think so, Mr. Darcy?”

The question was delivered, ever so daintily, with a slight blush. Darcy squirmed in his seat, then smiled, glancing at me—I was smirking behind my hand. My amusement seemed to prompt him to take up the challenge. “There is much to be said for select company, Miss Augustus. Though I confess, I am not always at my ease in crowds.”

Lady Augustus leant forward. “My Eustacia is quite the same. She has always possessed a delicacy of constitution, sensitive to noise and vulgarity. Indeed, her governess predicted she would be best suited to the quiet dignity of a great house, rather than the bustle of Town.”

“I have always preferred the country, Mr. Darcy,” added Miss Eustacia. “There is such poetry in a quiet morning’s walk, or the reading of a favourite volume by the fire. Do you enjoy poetry, sir?”

It was fortunate that I had not taken a sip of the excellent soup. I could hardly restrain my chortle—indeed, a sound akin to a strangled cat escaped me. Hastily, I grabbed my napkin and placed it against my mouth. “Dear me, I believe there was a small bone caught in my throat.”

Darcy looked at my watering eyes. “Waiter!” he called. “A glass of elderberry wine for Miss Elizabeth!”

How could he remain so calm, so reserved? After I had taken a sip of the wine, he turned once again to Miss Augustus. “I do enjoy poetry, on occasion. There is much to admire in the works of Cowper, or perhaps Wordsworth, though I find myself returning often to Milton. In fact, we have recently added to our library an exceedingly fine collection of first editions.”

Mama looked up. Both Mr. Darcy senior and Darcy acknowledged her loss with a quiet, reflective nod. She smiled. “It was Mr. Bennet’s request, sir, and my pleasure to see them to a good home.”

Lady Augustus appeared not to notice this exchange, and ploughed on with her repartee. “How refined! Eustacia is quite the poet herself—are you not, my dear? She composes verses for every occasion. Only yesterday, she wrote a sonnet on the subject of our arrival at the Lakes.”

“Oh, Mama! I am sure Mr. Darcy would not wish to be troubled with my scribblings.”