Page 28 of Gold and Good Sense

“That cannot be!” cried Lydia. “If a man loves me enough to marry me, he would never hurt me.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement that I don’t even know where to begin,” said Lady Esther. “Let us go back to what I said before, first. Your father has complete control over your life and your fortunes until you turn twenty-one. Even there, however, he is constrained by the law to not waste your money and to not mistreat you too badly.

“A husband, however, has control over you for the rest of your life, and he has very few constraints other than what is stipulated in the marriage contract and the law which states that he cannot kill you. Even the marriage contract can be circumvented if he is clever enough.”

Surprisingly, Lydia was silent as she apparently thought through what Lady Esther was telling her. Eventually, her stubborn expression returned, and she said, “While that may be true, it doesn’t change what I said earlier. If a man loves me, he would never harm me. I am determined to find a man to love me as soon as may be.”

“I am afraid that is also wrong, Lydia,” said Lady Esther. This time her voice held a tinge of fatigue and a ring of sadness. “Falling in love does not truly change one’s character. If a man is a cruel drunkard or a cheater at cards, loving you won’t change those qualities. And there are far worse qualities a man can have which I will not sully your ears with at present.”

“But I thought…” said Lydia, her voice drifting away as she could no longer articulate what she had believed.

“I am well aware,” said Lady Esther. “Consider this. If you were to fall in love, would that make you more obedient, less energetic, more inclined to work on your sewing? You know the answer to this question as well as I. It is the same for a gentleman.”

Lydia remained quiet for quite some time as the flow of conversation continued around her.

~~~~~

Lady Chithers had been quite taken with the Bennet sisters, so the very day after dinner at Judge Darcy’s home, an invitation arrived at the Bennets’ home for a ball at her home, which was to be held two days hence.

Though Jane hesitated, saying that their father might object since he did not approve of any courtship at the moment, Lady Esther insisted they accept. She even went so far as to go and ask Mr. Bennet for them.

She was gone for much longer than such a conversation should have taken, but the Lady must have been successful in her mission. When she returned, she insisted that Jane pen a short note accepting the invitation.

Elizabeth marveled at how well Lady Esther handled their father. Mama had always either succumbed to his whims with bad grace or pouted and threw nervous fits until he gave into her. With Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, life was made up of a series of battles of will. Whereas, when Lady Esther disagreed with Mr. Bennet’s decisions, she either said nothing or she spoke reasonably and rationally with him.

Elizabeth had only been privy to one of these disagreements, but their discussion had not been like anything Elizabeth had ever heard. It was almost as if her father were treating Lady Esther the same way he would treat a man, as an equal both in mind and in will.

However the Lady had managed it, Elizabeth was grateful. She quite looked forward to dancing, and there were a couple of gentlemen she had met at Judge Darcy’s dinner that she hoped to know more of.

Mr. Darcy was not one of them. While his conversation was excellent when he had offered it, his general behavior just made her uneasy.

On the night of the ball, Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary were escorted by Lady Esther and, surprisingly, their father. In the past, he had assiduously avoided such things, having no inclination to dance and very little tolerance for the noise. Somehow, Lady Esther had convinced him to join them.

The ballroom itself was far more brightly lit than Elizabeth had ever seen, though the sheer number of candles needed to accomplish such a thing made the room quite warm, despite a couple of windows having been thrown open to let in the cold night air.

It did not take long for Elizabeth and Jane’s dance cards to begin to fill up. Mary, too, was asked to dance several times, and she mostly accepted them. When Mary refused a dance offer from Mr. Walker, however, Elizabeth looked at her quizzically.

After Mr. Walker had stormed away, annoyance clear in his expression and his movements, Mary answered Elizabeth’s unspoken question. “I told you, Elizabeth, that I would not associate with gentlemen who refuse to even read a newspaper.”

“I see,” said Elizabeth.

The evening passed pleasantly for Elizabeth. There were dances with various gentlemen and conversations with other young ladies. She noticed that Jane was never without a partner, and Mary received far more attention than she would have at home.

One thing that pleased her was that Mr. Darcy was nowhere to be seen, though Elizabeth had heard him mentioned by a few other guests as conspicuously absent. Apparently, he had been invited and had even accepted the invitation, but he had not been seen.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but be glad of it. She had no inclination for his uncomfortable brand of attention. Still, the fact that he had accepted the invitation and still did not show up decreased her already low opinion of the man.

That changed when Mr. Darcy finally made an appearance shortly after supper. Elizabeth hadn’t even known of his arrival until the man was standing in front of her. With only the barest of preambles, he said, “Miss Elizabeth, I hope I am not too late to claim a dance with you.”

Her eyes flew wide in surprise, and she looked directly into his eyes to see if she could find his motivation for such a sudden request. Once again, she felt caught and pinned in place by his slightly too intense gaze.

When she finally managed to break the connection, she said, “If I agree to dance with you, tell me, will we be dancing in silence while you stare incomprehensibly at me, or will there be pleasant conversation between two polite people who know how to behave themselves in public.”

Elizabeth was fairly certain that she had been too blunt, too accusing. In fact, she had done so deliberately, hoping to chase the man away.

Instead of retreating, however, he said, “I do apologize for my atrocious behavior toward you at my uncle’s dinner party. Ignoring you throughout the entire desert course was unpardonable, especially since I did, in fact, wish to resume our conversation. It is an odd thing, Miss Elizabeth, how the same lady a man most wishes to speak with is often the one most capable of making him completely incapable of speech.”

Elizabeth was uncertain how to take such a compliment. There was no increased warmth or gentleness in his gaze, nothing in his demeanor to give merit to his assertion. Even so, it was nearly impossible to imagine this man lying outright in such a way.