Page 6 of Her Affections and Wishes

She had seen little of the house, but it gave her the impression of being too grand to be welcoming. Her hostess, however, made up for Woodcote’s deficiencies.

“There you are, my dears!” cried Mrs Tessier as she came into the hall, a boy of about eighteen just behind her. She greeted Lady Metcalfe and Julia with kisses, and she insisted on a hearty handshake with Elizabeth.

Whilst Mrs Tessier looked to be of about an age with Lady Catherine, perhaps ten years older than Lady Metcalfe, that was where the similarity ended. She wore black and an excessive amount of jewellery, but was all affability and chatter, insisting their presence made her happier than anything in the world.

“You are very welcome as well, Miss Bennet,” said Mrs Tessier. “Any friend of Lady Catherine and Lady Metcalfe is welcome at Woodcote. I was afraid the men would outnumber us ladies, but you will balance our numbers.”

At least Mrs Tessier did not resent her being here. “I am fortunate to have such generous friends.” Elizabeth tried to say more, but Julia Metcalfe stepped forward to crowd Elizabeth out.

“Yes, you are fortunate to be noticed by those above you in rank and fortune. I, however, would not mind if the men outnumbered the women this week.”

“You remember Henry, Julia?” said Mrs Tessier, not noticing or not understanding Julia’s slight. “Miss Bennet, my son, Mr Henry Tessier.”

If the mothers hoped for a union between their children, it was immediately apparent to Elizabeth that it would not happen. Julia Metcalfe was intent on catching a man. Henry Tessier was a boy. One with a shy smile and an earnest mien who still glanced at his mother for assurance. He was finely dressed but lacked confidence. He might turn out well with more years of experience, but any woman her age would only look at him with the fondness one felt for a child.

“I will make you known to the other gentlemen, then you can rest and dress for the evening,” Mrs Tessier said, leading them toward one of the parlours. “You want to attend the assembly rooms in Epsom, do you not, Louisa?” she said to Lady Metcalfe. “There will be ever so many young men there for the races. And mayhap one for you too, Miss Bennet.”

Clearly, Mrs Tessier understood the reasons for bringing Julia to Epsom, but before Elizabeth could refute needing any help, Lady Metcalfe said, “Let us centre our attention on Julia, if you please.”

“And what about you, Louisa?” she asked teasingly. “Your husband has been gone for a few years.”

“Just Julia,” she said in a tone that did not match her friend’s humour. “She must be settled above all else.”

They went into a parlour with crimson and gold hangings, a splendidly carved chimney-piece, and over it a bas-relief of marble with carved and gilt ornaments. It took Elizabeth a moment to take in the pretentious room, and by the time she was done, the two men had greeted the others and were ready to be introduced to her.

“May I present Sir John Whitney?” Mrs Tessier said. “He is my distant cousin. He will try to charm you, I promise,” she added in a stage whisper.

“A pleasure,” he said, bowing and giving her an approving glance. “Madam,” he said to Mrs Tessier, with a grin, “you did not say so many handsome ladies were joining us. Miss Bennet, I insist on a dance this evening, as well.”

He was about thirty, a tall, robust young fellow with black hair as unruly as his manner. He had manly beauty, but he knew it. It would not do to credit much of what he said, because he likely said the same pretty things to anyone in a skirt.

“And here is Mr Travers,” said Mrs Tessier.

The older man gave an acknowledging bow to her but turned his attention back to Lady Metcalfe, who hung on his arm. Elizabeth looked to anyone else to share an amused glance with over his indifference, but she was alone. This would be a dull week at Woodcote.

“His father is a baron,” Mrs Tessier continued, “and he was a friend of my departed husband, but I understand he grew up near Lady Metcalfe.”

“Yes, he and I are old friends,” said Lady Metcalfe. “Although our fathers never got along, we⁠—”

“No one cares, Mamma,” muttered Julia.

Mr Travers’s figure was not tall, but he was well proportioned, with fair hair just going grey and an apathetic countenance. He was almost handsome when he smiled, which he had done only once upon greeting Lady Metcalfe before resuming his uninterested air. Elizabeth noted he asked neither her nor Julia to dance.

Julia’s prospects for matrimony did not seem promising.

They were soon in a bustle of having a light meal, unpacking, and dressing for the assembly, and Elizabeth hardly had a moment to think. It did not seem that Julia Metcalfe would find a husband at Woodcote if the options were a youth, a flirt, and a dispassionate older man. Not that she was interested for herself, but Lady Catherine must be resigned to disappointment in Elizabeth’s case as well.

Once she dressed, she went to Julia’s room, hoping the girl’s fear of having her as competition would not prevent them from going downstairs together. Maybe now that the bustle of travel was over, she would be in better spirits.

When she was let in, she saw Lady Metcalfe in conference with her daughter as she put on her jewellery for the evening.

“Miss Bennet, you can share your opinion,” Lady Metcalfe said. “Julia was deciding whether to pursue Mr Henry Tessier or Sir John Whitney.”

Elizabeth tried to hide her surprise. Neither seemed a good candidate upon first impressions. “Do you not wish to know them a little better first?”

“What a waste of time,” Julia said, and Elizabeth saw in the mirror’s reflection that she lifted her eyes. “I have already decided that Sir John Whitney will suit my purpose.”

“But why must a decision be made quickly?” Julia was only about the same age as Jane, and had fine prospects.