Not All Wealth is Bought with Gold
Chapter XXI. Act the Third
We have arrived at the centre point, at that place where the threads meet and collide, that place where lovers as well as words are exchanged, that violent place which will inevitably resolve itself in another two acts. We have come to the pinnacle, as it were, where swords are crossed in the battle clash of polite society.
And so it is, in an hysterical scene worthy of de Vega, that the very elements which we have followed with such anticipation met and wove, tangling a web already tangled. The astute observer, perhaps, may see the single thread which will pull the tapestry aright, but the characters within our comedy can neither see the haphazard trail flung behind, much less their own crazy destination.
Alas, this scene, so worthy of comedy, so shallow in theme, had the great misfortune of occurring quite outside the sphere of the theatre proper - specifically, in the vestibule and corridors, those winding passages thronged with humanity providing such lovely labyrinthian obstacles necessary to amusement - and therefore is quite outside the sphere of our own humble play.
Perhaps it would divert the less discerning spectator to watch the futile pursuit of Mr St Giles after Miss Delford, to see her duck and wind, to see him set forth in the wrong direction. Perhaps it would interest this spectator to watch as Lord Wendell, dispatched for a glass of wine by Maria, was found by Miss Delford who - after only the briefest moments of deliberation - clung to him, nearly weeping, expressing distress at Mr St Giles' overtures. The errands of the servants, too, this spectator might enjoy - the messengers of Lady Catherine and Lady Dalrymple scurrying to and fro with ever increasing stubborn replies to visit the other; or the Delfords' man, Charles, who did indeed find Mr Ladislaw and escort him to his master's box - the only program successfully concluded from the previous act. Were the scope of this humble work larger, the common spectator might find ample amusement in the parallel adventures of the other threads of humanity, such as the adventures of the widowed Lady Beauchamp who looked very ill in purple yet wore it tonight of all nights - but our concern is not with this, but with the promised climax of a third act.
What! Is this intermezzo not action enough to fill three books together? Perhaps. But their worth is incidental - that which must employ our attention, the clash so gleefully anticipated, is made of quite another stuff than the burlesque. For our attention is on those things of true worth; on the germinal of the shy bud whose clash is with the formidable earth, whose sword is the trowel of love, who dares to glimpse the sky.
Our attention is with Anne de Bourgh.
The discourse, perhaps unnecessary, has brought us nonetheless to the rising of the curtain and returned us to our original stage - mad£e all the more pleasant for the absence of one of its members.
Maria, freed temporarily from that gentleman's company, slumped in her chair, much too exhausted to puzzle out a play in its middle. Lady Catherine's attention was entirely on my lady, her adversary, and while Maria's muscles relaxed at last, Lady Catherine's tensed until her face resembled the masks of the commedia del'arte. Anne de Bourgh, with so weak a constitution already, leant heavily upon Mrs Jenkinson, her ringed eyes heavy and drooping. Mrs Jenkinson, alone, was enjoying herself immensely.
So in their various postures the ladies might have remained quite comfortably for some half an hour, had not Mr St Giles' frantic chase brought him around the theatre entirely, and to their very box. His cheeks were flushed with the exertion, making his appearance strangely more attractive. He entered their box like a man from the wilds, which effect resulted, amazingly, in his surer stance and speech. Bowing once to the entire assembled, without the request or the desire for introduction, he immediately inquired of Miss Lucas if she had seen Miss Delford. Maria had no chance to reply, however, for Lady Catherine was not one to take well to such abrupt dismissals of propriety - even if, and especially if, they sprang from the tender sentiments.
"Who are you, sir?" she asked, turning the full force of her imperious gaze upon him, which gaze was made more bitter by the arrival of the servant with another letter from Lady Dalrymple.
"My friend, Mr St Giles," Maria at once hastened to inform Lady Catherine. Then, noticing the distinct quirk of that lady's face, she added, "Lady Catherine, Miss De Bourgh, may I present Mr St Giles. Mr St Giles, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, and Miss Anne De Bourgh."
"Ch-charmed," Mr St Giles said, bowing to each. "M-miss Lucas, if I may have a word with you?"
"You may stay here, sir. I take a very great mind to young ladies in my care," Lady Catherine responded.
He bowed and repeated his request.
Maria thought for a moment, her round eyes growing large and tender as she observed Mr St Giles' distress. "I am afraid I have not seen her except at a distance, sir. She yet has not come around to see me, as I thought she might."
He coloured at this, saying, "I-I am the cause of her breaking pr-promise to you."
"Are you?" Maria laughed gently. "But surely not! Oh...." For, at that moment, she understood his meaning. "Would you - that is, she is bound to come here eventually - would you stay for a time?"
"I sh-should be honoured, Miss Lucas."
They spoke of incidentals for some few moments whilst Lady Catherine read the note the servant had brought, and then said (deliberately ripping the missive in half), "Tell Lady Dalrymple that I cannot,(c) and will not, leave my charges, or require them to remove with me. My daughter is ill, my charge is occupied - while her charge is neither sickly nor engaged, and she herself has not the rheumatism upon her! Tell her that, Hird."
He bowed and exited, as Mr St Giles told Maria of his impending journey home.
"It sound lovely," Maria smiled.
"I-it is. I dare say it's the l-loveliest country in all over England!"
"What is, sir?" Lady Catherine interrupted.
"Cornwall," he responded - the word falling easily from his lips.
My lady sniffed. "I have been there once, with Anne, to the moor. I thought it a dreary place with little to recommend it."
"I...I liked it." Anne ventured quietly.
He bowed stiffly to Lady Catherine. "B-but you have never been to Penrose Park, m-madam."
"Is it in the moor?"
"N-no; it is o-on the coast."
"The coast! Take my advice, sir, and remove at once. The coast is no place for any man's constitution. Let the workers till it, if they must, but the gentry must look after their health. You are a mere baronet, Mr St Giles - yet even baronets are valuable in their way."
"I q-quite prefer the coast, madam. I-I was raised there, you know."
"I am sure you were, and perhaps your lungs have grown accustomed to the unseasonable air there. But you cannot think to raise a family in so perilous a place! And a family of blood, no less."
"I-indeed I d-do intend to...to raise a f-f-family there, madam," he said, growing agitated. "Th-that is m-my in-intent this very eve-evening."
Lady Catherine was no dull woman, and so exclaimed, "To Miss Delford! I shall not have it, sir! To raise a family such as theirs, so wholly without fortune or connection - you must see the impropriety! Such a match would be an abomination!"
The occupants were speechless, until after several uncomfortable minutes¥, Anne coughed and said, "Mama...."
Mr St Giles bowed again. "I th...thank you f-for your advice, madam. If you w-will excuse me." And with that he left to circle the theatre once more.
For several minutes after his departure, Lady Catherine waxed eloquent on that gentleman's unseemly behaviour, her declamatory prose as rousing as any acting "done in flashes" on the London stage.
But more remarkable than the sudden revelation of my lady's thespian abilities, was the glimmer - small and uncertain, to be sure - within the eye of Miss Anne de Bourgh, which glance followed with great interest the retreating figure of Mr St Giles.
Chapter XXII. Act the Fourth
Lady Catherine, we must now admit, was a very great actress indeed - a veritable paragon of the bombastic mode. She thundered, she tremored, she sank to a passionate whisper, she rolled her majestic "r's." Standing, turning, sweeping out her arm and twitching her skirts, she faced the devout beneath her, and smashed her beringed fingers in terrible rage upon the golden banister. Was it to be borne? Nay - it could no longer be borne. What an age was this when every man was made a knight, and any commoner his lady. Was the blood of England to be thus sullied? Was the blood of England - as ancient as her very stone! - to be thus diluted? Such a step - none more falsely taken! - would one day bring down the very House of her most noble stock, she was sure. Oh, it pierced her to the very heart of her. It struck her to her very soul. It was an abomination of most despicable order.
But if Lady Catherine spoke in thunder, Else Delford was of a far different school. For she did not glower and boom, nor did she weep most aggrievedly, or do anything to the extreme whatsoever. Rather she played in the new mode, with raised eyebrows and piteous expressions, limpid eyes and very great self-containment. To Lord Wendell, there in the corridor, she made her request, touching his sleeve in heartfelt appeal, as innocent as Maria, as helpless as Anne. She stumbled only once as Lord Wendell conveyed her to his box - a stumble upon her gown that caused her only to hold a little tighter to his arm. And when he looked down at her, did she faint? Did she clutch his arm? Did she curse her ankle, and demand he examine the flesh? Else did none of these things - she blushed, and glanced at him through her lashes. For she had shifted as the tide shifts - and althoughµ she found Col. Fitzwilliam's cut and coat more appealing, yet there is much to be said for Earls.
They arrived in good time, just as the old stage was clearing and Lady Catherine at last persuaded to regain her seat, and the new stage set with Lord Wendell and Else.
Maria, who contained - lamentably - no artifice within her, blanched at their arrival, her eyes flitting every which way as Else walked sadly to her friend, took Maria's hands in hers, and bit the lip as though she would cry.
"Oh, Maria," she said in a tone that wavered on a whisper, "how glad I am to see you." A single tear jerked its way down her rosy complexion, and her proud sorrow even stirred the grudging admiration of Lady Catherine for her fellow's talents.
Thus with starts and sobs, and the occasional comment from Lord Wendell to relieve the monologue, Else proclaimed her woes to a most unsympathetic audience. Mr St Giles had pursued her - had used her abominably! She was distraught; she must stay with Maria. Lady Catherine was appealed to in a charming dialogue consisting of one part words and two part action. Else turned mournfully to face my lady, my lady turned her back on her. Lord Wendell uttered something important, notable only for his resonant voice, all the while casting glances at Maria and Else. With a stiff back and a slow prowl, my lady accused Miss Delford of the vilest motives, of mercenary pursuits, of loathsome aspirations. Else, much surprised by this retort, did not endeavour to conceal either her natural shock or her fabricated pain. Leaving Maria's side, she hesitantly stepped towards that formidable lady - even as Lord Wendell, now thoroughly engrossed in Miss Delford's performance, leaned against a wall - and she sang such an entreaty, appealing to my lady's honour, charity, station and name, that at last Lady Catherine must remit, with great condescension.
"My dear girl," Lady Catherine said, raising her chin, "You may rest a while. For, low though you may be, yet your discernment in matters of matrimony are quite sound. You have pleased me in your rejection of a baronet. And if I were not sure of your simple mother's honesty, your speech would have convinced me of some blue blood within you!"
Else thanked her and gratefully took the seat beside Maria.
"I have a very pretty house in Kent, Miss Delford," Lady Catherine said - once Lord Wendell professed that he quite preferred the elevated view, since it set the ladies to such advantage. "You might visit me, if your family will spare you, for a fortnight. I have, many times, invited other young ladies of poor connections to stay with me, and their visits have all been most...they have been.... I am sure that you will behave with every proper decorum befitting a woman of little wealth. Maria might accompany you, as well, before sheà returns to Hertfordshire, for I cannot conceive remaining in Bath for much longer. Two weeks is an admirable amount of time away from one's domain - is it not Miss Delford?"
Else agreed heartily that Bath was very wearing.
"And you cannot have much attachments to the place, and I am certain that I do not - I come here only with thoughts of my daughter, Miss Delford, for I take a very great mind to the happiness of those around me."
Else at once declared that Miss De Bourgh was a lovely creature, and that they should be great friends. A few sentences more of a businesslike nature concluded that a week was enough time to gather belongings and bid adieus, and with such an agreeable solution on either side, Else snuggled next to Maria, laying her dark head upon our heroine's shoulder, and whispered to her, "Oh, how happy am I, Maria! To travel with you! Lord! It seems but a day or two since you first came! - and yet how many things have happen...ed!"
"A great many indeed," said Maria with a sigh.
"And to think - I shall see one of the ancestral homes of dear Richard."
Maria started at this, and innumerable emotions shook her thin body - sorrow, ire, despair, longing, all these coursed within her, whelming her soul so that she could only say with a sort of frightened alarm, "Colonel Fitzwilliam?"
"Yes," Else breathed, glancing backwards at Lord Wendell who was himself watching Miss Delford thoughtfully. "Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. For you know," said she, taking Maria's hand, "I have missed him dreadfully so. And my heart is so tender, I fear sometimes it shall break! You, Maria, are made of far sterner stuff than I am. You have waited upon the older brother; you have played one upon the other - but I? Alas, Maria! My heart can only belong to one."
Maria's mind was working very quickly now, remembering the Colonel's hasty departure, his stay with the Delfords, his dancing with Else. Had she - no, it was impossible; it could not be! - had she misjudged the relationship between Else and Colonel...? Had they formed...?
"No!" she cried, in an agitated whisper. "That is, has he - good Lord! - has he...has Colonel Fitzwilliam made known - made known explicitly, Else - his affection for you?"
"He wrote a letter of more tender sentiments, I saw it myself - but I shall not recite it to you. In such delicate concerns, privacy is key."
Maria could only nod dumbly. What tragedy was this! What crush and blow to her battered heart! She could not speak, she could not weep - neither were welcome in this party. And what a party surrounded her! No side provided relief. For there was Lady Catherine, and there Lord Wendell, and there Else Delford. But a fourth wall was yet to be broached, and the promise of comedy yet to be fulfilled - both of which came from a most surprising and welcome arrival to the Royal Theatre.
Chapter XXIII. Act the Fifth
The deus ex machina is a device rarely looked upon with much admiration. It is trite, contrived, and banal some say, brought out in the fifth act when the author has so thoroughly worked his way into an impossible situation, that there seems absolutely no hope that what has been promised -- namely, that two couples would fall in love and marry, while another couple would be reconciled, and the elderly and villainous made a laughingstock -- could ever be accomplished! Yet, whether through the fault of the author or the fault of the medium, there hardly seems a comedy without such a device, although it may come in a form far different than smoke and exclamation. And in our comedy -- as well, it should be noted, as the comedy on the stage -- this splendid savior arrived not amidst the creaking groans and squeaking gears of an ancient machine, but through the doors and on a gentleman's arm. No Pallas Athene and Apollo this, nor even Persephone and Dionysus -- although the pastoral costumes on the stage might have suggested differently -- but rather our own Kitty Bennet on the arm of Mr Ellis. And if their brow is not wreathed in golden glory, yet the triumphant smile on his face and the pleased blush on hers must suffice for our poor attempts at godliness.
Their arrival was not out of the ordinary way, which is to say no levitation was involved, but nevertheless, they caused quite a stir and flutter among our particular audience. Maria was perhaps the first to see them, and Mr Delford the second -- both sitting up and bending forward, both deafening their ears to the cries for information from their party, both shocked at what such an arrival must mean.
"He has proposed!" Maria cried, at one time glad for her especial friend and at another concerned for Mr Delford, whom she saw across the theatre recline disconsolately back into his seat. Inquiries sprang forth anew from every quarter, and Maria was obliged to clarify, "Mr Ellis -- he has just, he must have just proposed to Kitty! Oh, Lord -- poor Mr Delford."
"Poor Eduard?" Else asked, laughing. "Whyever poor Eduard? Happy Kitty, I should say! And lucky, too."
"Oh, happy indeed! But she has made him very unhappy I am afraid."
"Oh, you needn't concern yourself on his account. Why should you? Indeed, if you would feel anything, it should be disappointment that Mr Ellis did not ask you. Where there is fortune, happiness must inevitably follow. Don't you agree, Lord Wendell? I am certain that youí feel nothing but joy for Miss Bennet's conquest."
"Indeed. I am delighted that Miss Bennet has finally settled her heart. She is an excellent example to all her acquaintance," Lord Wendell smiled.
"You would not have us own our hands, much less our hearts, Lord Wendell?" Else asked, turning more fully towards him, and arching her neck as well as her brow. "I am quite shocked! Your brother has more sense than you -- for he respects a woman's liberty, no matter how brief."
"My brother must. He has not the means to catch a lady."
"And do you catch us, sir?"
"Aye, by the hand."
"And you have two, sirrah. I'll not trust you!" Else cried, tossing her ringlets.
"You have two also, as has Miss Lucas -- indeed as have all women, my Aunt included. Do not scowl, Aunt. I know you keep one upon my cousin. Ah, but see Miss Delford, how angry Miss Lucas has become! Her fair skin is fair blushed!"
"Making her more fair to you, my Lord? But I wonder, Maria, if Lord Wendell has become more fair to you as well -- for now that Kitty has led the way, you inevitably must follow. Don't you agree, Lord Wendell?"
He bowed. "I would indeed have Miss Lucas instructed by her friend."
"As would I!" Else laughed, rising and plying her fan. "And to whom do you think, Lord Wendell?"
"I have no idea."
"To a pair of brothers, sir, a pair of brothers. As dear Maria and I nearly sisters to one another, I can conceive of no better plan. And whom," she asked, folding her fan and sidling pensively to my lord, "whom do you suppose those brothers might be?"
"Impertinence!" Lady Catherine exclaimed, rapping solemnly on the armed chair. So doing, Anne -- who had been quietly pondering the strange emotions rising in her sickly heart -- jumped, and cried out, "Oh!" Such an "oh" was not sufficient to quell my lady, however, who continued in a tremorous vein, "Gregory, you will escort Miss Delford back at once! It is apparent that she is sufficiently well rested, and no longer faint. You will go immediately, sir! I shall meet you again in a se'ennight, Miss Delford, but not before. You may make your farewells to my nephew en route, if you like, for I am sure he must return post-haste to Blackthorne Hall -- he has neglected it, and his duty to the peerage, in favour of other ventures, for far too long. Good night, Miss Delford. Hird!" she cried as the harried servant entered. "No! I shall not accept Lady Dalrymple's card! Return it to her unopened, and convey to my lady that I am most seriously vexed with her obstinacy and refusal at my charitable and kindly invitation. Remind her also, that I am to the Pump Rooms early tomorrow morning, if she would care to apologise. I shall receive her graciously there. Gregory! Why have you not gone?"
"I am all haste, Aunt," he replied, still leaning against the wall, and but lolling his head in his Aunt's direction. "But Miss Lucas is proving stubborn."
"She is shewing sense, at last. What can you possible want of her now?"
"I thought she might join us."
"Nothing of the sort, Gregory! You have done quite enough to raise public speculation about yourself and Miss L.... You will have done, sir, and escort Miss Delford alone."
"Alone, Aunt! Did you not just now advyse me to refrain from scandal? Think of your good name! Think of your reputation. But, if you truly desire me to escort Miss Delford alone, who am I to gainsay you?"
Lady Catherine was quite dumbfounded for a minute -- an unusual occurrence, and one that provided ample opportunity for Lord Wendell to make his escape with one lady on each arm. The corridors were no more nor less full than they had been previously, and so our trio's progress was made at a sedate pace, full of clever repartee that was interrupted when they met Sir Nevil who had spent the entirety of the evening skipping in and out of boxes, elucidating on the acting "done in flashes." Somewhere during the infamous third act's intermezzo he had been introduced to the idea of travelling back to his house in London and hosting a series of salons there. The person who had suggested such an escapade had done so in the hopes of ridding her box from Sir Nevil, but had only succeeded in furnishing that gentleman's mind full of more pratter. The particulars of his conversation need not concern us, as they did not greatly concern our principal actors, except in the way of a ridiculous diversion.
Divers of our other acquaintance were also met -- Mr St Giles was glimpsed slouched against a doorpost, looking into the theatre where Mr Ellis and Kitty were imparting the delightful news to some of Mr Ellis' acquaintance. Maria's heart was moved for him, but she could not stray from her party. Hird and Brunnel, the two servants of Lady Catherine and Lady Dalrymple respectively were also seen meeting, exchanging unopened letters, and remarking that what was needed was a pint of ale. Mr Ladislaw they saw in passing, as he returned from the Delfords' box. Few words were exchanged, with some vague mention of Mr Ladislaw considering Rome or Poland a possible destination since Bath had become so distasteful, but he was soon after snatched up by Sir Nevil who thought it a capital idea if Ladislaw would go with him to London, hey?
The happy couple they also met. Kitty at once rushed up to her dearest, childhood friend, taking her hands and kissing her cheeks. No explanation was necessary -- it was quite obvious at this close range that Mr Ellis and she had, indeed, come to an understanding. Maria searched Kitty's face for sign of unhappiness or indecision but found none. Kitty seemed pleased with her choice -- and completely insensible that there ever might have been another man who might have claimed her hand.
Kitty, however, saw the slight furrow of Maria's brow and knew it meant distress. "Are you not pleased for me, Maria?" she asked, turning with a smile to Mr Ellis, who stood just behind her.
"Pleased? La! Yes, Kitty, very."
"Then why do you not smile for me, Maria?"
Maria attempted to oblige, but was finally forced to beg her friend to excuse her behaviour.
"Yes, of course, Maria. Shall I walk with you?"
"No! Oh no, Kitty, for we are going to the Delford's box."
"Oh, then I should certainly go! For I caught note that Mrs Garvers was to return to Hertfordshire, and I should certainly like to tell my Father in person. My Mother, too, I suppose."
Maria giggled. "Oh, I dearly long to go with you, Kitty. But I shall be home soon, too. Lady Catherine has had quite enough of Bath. I fear my Mother's reception will not be as pleasant as yours."
"I hardly doubt anyone's reception could equal my Mother's."
Maria agreed with another smothered laugh, and kissed her once again before they parted.
They reached the Delford's box just as the theatrical deus ex machina in the form of an emissary from the Prince Regent appeared on the stage with a convenient letter that completely reversed the fortune of the indigent but honest hero. Such a Providence was needed in her life, Maria thought, as Miss Delford was relinquished to her family, with several gushing thanks from Mrs Delford and Mrs Garvers. Mr Delford was standing, staring down at the gay figures of the happy couple as they continued their own trek though the theatre. No conversation was possible with him -- he was far too lost in thought and Lord Wendell seemed overly eager to return to their original box.
Amidst much to-doing and farewelling, Maria and Lord Wendell excused themselves and stepped into the corridor, just as the hero embraced the long-sought heroine and the chorus raised a hymn to Britannia. They had not gone more than a few paces, though, before Lord Wendell turned to Maria with such force that she found herself pinned breathlessly against the wall.
"Miss Lucas...Maria," Lord Wendell began, one hand outstretched on the wall beside her shoulder, his eyes dark and troubled, his voice likewise dark and urgent. His other hand raised to cup her chin, and for a moment Maria was afraid of an even greater imposition. "I can no longer allow myself to dally on your fancy. I must have an answer. You have played the coquette with both your hands, as Miss Delford would say, and I have allowed you your game. But I can no longer wait. Even my patience is not limitless. What say you, Maria?"
She dithered. "I -- I do not know! What has brought this on, sir? Why do you chase me so? I had answered you in Kent...."
"Your answer then was of no consequence. Your answer now is what concerns me."
"And do you truly believe, Lord Wendell, that my answer should be different now -- when you press me in such a manner? Your present actions do not soften my heart -- I assure you of that!"
"Then what action must I take?" he asked, leaning closer, his voice lower, the scent of his musk filling her nostrils. On stage, a million miles away, the chorus rose, swept into elation by its own grandeur. His hand remained on her cheek, burning her flesh, searing her mind. "What must I do," he whispered, "to win you, Maria?"
"I pray you would not address me thus."
"How shall I address you, dearest?"
"No, nay! Not by that title either. I pray you would release me!"
"When you have answered, yes." And he bent towards her, his face so dangerously near, so that it seemed the entire world was filled by him. She could feel the warmth of his body close to hers; his expression familiar to the Colonel's that the strength of her knees weakened. And then his lips were upon hers, oh so briefly, and he murmured against her lips, "Will you marry me, Maria?"
Fear and desperation overcame her, like the tenor and bass -- fear of her mother, desperation for her plight. Coupled with that was the sensuous alto that almost made her answer yes, but for the melody that ran in tune with the hymn to Britannia -- the image of Colonel Fitzwilliam -- that stayed her response and strengthened her knees, long enough for her to cry, "Why do you torment me so? I shall have none of you, Lord Wendell -- no, not now, nor ever! Turn your affection elsewhere -- you shall not find it returned by me!"
"And why not, pray tell?" he asked, grasping her by the arm when she would pull free. "Can you honestly tell me that you love another? How fickle is a woman's heart!"
"How constant, sir! I...I have never loved you, although you may have, in your arrogance, believed otherwise. Leave me, sir!" The chorus held its final chord as, onstage, the curtain dropped.
"Indeed, madam, O nymph, I shall leave you," he growled, stepping away as suddenly as he had originally advanced. "But believe me, madam, when I tell you that in rejecting me, you have committed an aggrievious error -- for my intentions toward you were honourable and just, and my attraction to you sincere -- for you...you, Miss Lucas, are a strange creature indeed. You are all light in this despoiled world. You were to me like gold among dross. But I see now that you would sell yourself cheaply, and to my brother -- do not deny it, I caught you that evening, but could not believe the proof of my eyes -- you would sell yourself less dearly than if I could hold you...."
"You would make me an object, my lord. I never desired that. Farewell."
"Farewell, Miss Lucas." His bow as curt and polite, and he offered her neither arm nor servant, but stormed from the theatre altogether. The applause of the audience rose tremendously, as though to recompense the actors for their wasted efforts. The sound of the applause was like the sound of rain, like the sound of the thunder on that first disastrous day when she had met Lord Wendell and rejected his initial attentions. And, like that rain, tears poured down Maria's cheeks as she stumbled her way through the throngs of people returning to their boxes and rushing to their seats. Her heart felt a deep relief, a shudder that ran through her body -- but she could not be fully content. She had rid herself of one brother for love of the other -- and yet the Colonel's heart could never be hers, and her defiance was an empty one -- his heart was in the duplicitous hand of Else Delford! Tears blinded her vision as the memory of her own surprising responses rose up with each renewal of the applause. Her senses abandoned her -- she could not hear or see or feel or smell, but she could taste the salt of her tears on her lips, still burning with his kiss. She stumbled forward -- God only knows how she managed to find her way to the foyer, where Kitty, on her way to the Delfords' with Mr. Ellis, found her and helped her dry her tears and make her way back to Lady Catherine, in an action most Providential. Lord Wendell was nowhere in attendance. He had -- according to Lady Catherine's enraged account -- rushed in, collected his things, and rushed out, without so much as a by-you-leave! What her nephews were coming to, she had no idea. The evening concluded and the applause spent, there was little else to do exit themselves, wait for the carriage and make unsatisfactory good-byes across the crowd.
Once in the carriage, nothing would suit Lady Catherine better than to expound on the iniquities of the evening's performance, the dullness of the actors, the frivolity of the content -- and the utter lack of anything resembling romance.
"In my day," she said, arranging the lace that fell from her sleeve, "we did not trifle with the heart as those players did -- all manners and customs and nothing to the matter of it at all. Our romances were tempestuous, with equal parts given to men and women alike -- nothing so turgid at what we witnessed this evening. Indeed, the whole world has become a quiet place to live in -- no passion at all! It is most distressing."
Only Mrs Jenkinson nodded continued agreement as Lady Catherine elucidated on the various disappointments of the evening, whose goings-on we have but poorly recorded. As for Maria -- sheé stared disconsolately out the window, her arms clutched around her waist as though to stop that organ from revolting. She had quite enough of passion and tempests -- Bath was indeed a frightful perilous place, how she longed for the simplicity of Hertfordshire! And as for Anne, who also stared out the window, her eyes fixed on Mr St Giles' carriage, she too thought of the simplicity of another sea-bound shire, and the awakening trifles of the heart.
Chapter XXIV:Which concludes our stay in Bath.
The following morning, Lady Catherine and her household repaired to the Pump Rooms, as a means of bidding the long adieu to Bath. Several of their acquaintance were in attendance - although Lady Dalrymple was not among them, and it was rumoured that her absence was from an excess of activity - although what activity, Lady Catherine could not conceive. Mr Ladislaw and Sir Nevil, though, joined them briefly, the former repeating his London Plan to any and all who could hear, while Mr Ladislaw stood impatiently at his side. At one point, that good man struck up conversation with Maria, wherein several trivialities were discussed, as well as Mr Ladislaw's involvement in Sir Nevil's program, which was to commence during the Little Season.
"Do you suppose you might find it within your means to come to London, Miss Lucas?" Mr Ladislaw asked, bowing a little.
"I hardly think my parents could afford to spare me a second journey so close together. I'm afraid I shall disappoint you, sir," she replied.
He smiled, and a little of his gallant humour returned. "The world seems to possess an enormous capacity for disappointment, Miss Lucas. Although I assure you that your absence will be most sadly felt."
Maria curtsied at this compliment and turned the conversation to other matters until Sir Nevil struck off in another direction completely, dragging his erstwhile companion in his wake. Another hour passed amidst cups and conversation, when the Delfords arrived. Else immediately attacked their group with a flurry of kisses and exclamations. Gratitude, praise and repentance she showered on Lady Catherine, who received the flattery well. And where was Lord Wendell? Lord Wendell - well my lady paid no heed of her nephews' whereabouts; he had undoubtedly repaired to Blackthorne Hall. Else hid her disappointment well, instead appealing to Lady Catherine for the best means of preparing for the journey.
With Else so firmly attached to Lady Catherine, and Mrs Delford and Mrs Garvers in animated conversation with Sir Nevil, Mr Delford - looking more pale and sickly than he had these past few weeks - was left to stroll the room with Maria. They walked some way in silence, Maria picking at her gloves and Mr Delford leaning on his cane.
"I am sorry," she said at last, turning to look at him.
"Sorry, Miss Lucas?" he said in fair imitation of his sister the previous night. "I should think your heart elated at your friend's good fortune."
"Oh, but you...."
"My current disappointment is entirely my own. I had not made the effort to win her. I had not wooed her, as a lover ought. I hid behind my illness, as I now think I have hid behind it my whole life. No, Miss Lucas - you are entirely too good. But the blame lies all on me."
Maria could say nothing. They walked some more, nodding to a few acquaintances, and finally halting as Lady Catherine and Else, who led their way, stopped to speak with Lady Beauchamp, and admire her stunning gown of scarlet silk. The break allowed Mr Delford to collect his thoughts, and regard the slight, fair girl beside him. She seemed one made for bright optimism and laughter, and to see her in such a saddened straight distressed him more than his own folly. But there was a piece of business that had not been settled, and which outcome might - possibly - bring a happy conclusion.
"Have you heard from the Colonel, Miss Lucas?" he began.
Maria, who had returned to picking at the fingertips of her glove, startled, saying, "No, sir - I have not."
"Have you, then, written to him yourself, Miss Lucas?"
"Written to the Colonel, Mr Delford? Indeed, I could not!"
"Would you then prefer that I act as intermediary, Miss Lucas? I believe he mentioned as much in the letter."
"Letter, Mr Delford? What letter?"
"You mean...." He stopped, and regarded Maria for a second time. Such circuitous inquiry would be fruitless, he knew. Miss Lucas was not one for metaphor. Although it went against all that was most English within him, Mr Delford heaved a sigh and said, "I take it that you did not receive Colonel Fitzwilliam's parting letter, Miss Lucas? No - I see you have not. Shameful!" Then turning to her, he said, "Miss Lucas, I did not myself peruse the letter, although I have reason to believe that my sister caught a glimpse of it, and thus I cannot relay to you the full eloquence of the matter - indeed, Miss Lucas! This is not for me to say!"
Maria's breath was very short now, and she dared to touch his arm in form of inquiry. "Mr Delford, pray relieve my suffering! The Colonel wrote to me? And what did he say...no! Do not tell me. I can very well guess it! For Else told me last night...."
"I can very well imagine what she told you! My sister is a flirt and a liar," Mr Delford whispered vehemently. "She has caused more dissension and broken more hearts that Helen ever could. You are too good, Miss Lucas, and do not know when others impose on your naivete."
"Mr Delford...."
But he silenced her again, offering her his arm and walking to a more private corner. "Miss Lucas, I regret that I cannot - I feel I should not - be the one to break with you. But I shall write to Fitzwilliam again and then I feel very certain that you shall receive another letter. And when you receive that letter, Miss Lucas, I beg that you not keep him in suspension of your feelings, whateverí they may be. A man's heart is a fragile thing, created only to love one woman. And when that is broken...." He shrugged and smiled, "I - I would not have you bring disappointment upon yourself, Miss Lucas, as I have."
The morning ended soon after, and the remaining days progressed quickly, until it hardly seemed a blink before that they were all assembled in the great carriage, headed away from such a place of heartache and to Kent. Maria was, of course, very glad to go - was even glad for the addition of Else, who kept Lady Catherine sufficiently occupied with flattery and attention. Once or twice, Maria caught a familiar, far-away glance in Anne's eye, and noticed that she kept in her palm a handkerchief Mr St Giles had lent her a few days ago and she had never found the opportunity of returning. But chief in Maria's mind was, of course, Mr Delford's words that morning in the Pump Rooms. She hardly dared to let hope rise within her again. But, as Mr Delford had so accurately noted, she was not a creature made for brooding, and her reception at the parsonage, her walks around the Park, all the particulars of that country brought back memories of two years ago and the happiness and love she had first experienced for the Colonel. Only once did she think of Lord Wendell, and that when, in her walking, she came upon the view where she had first met him, her deserted bower. The trees had all ripened and the dainty petals lay trampled on the ground - but this was no awful thing for Maria who hummed and ran and skipped among the fallen petals with grateful freedom and elated spirits. Charlotte could not quite understand her sister's new-found demeanour - for her sister was at once aged, and yet seemed determined to play in the fields like any child. The stay at the Parsonage was not long - which was a blessing, for Maria had forgotten the nearly incessant pratter of her brother, Mr Collins - and within a fortnight she quit the Parsonage and the frowning windows >of Rosings Park, and began the journey home to Hertfordshire.)
Chapter XXV. Which returns us to the Familiar.
Maria was only too grateful to return to Hertfordshire - but Hertfordshire was not quite as happy to have her return. Lady Lucas was, in particular, distressed that her younger daughter's excursion to Bath had resulted in no husband, but several rumours! It was more than this formidable lady could bear. For many days she - so she supposed - contained her disappointment admirably, although she could not help but quiz Maria on occasion.
"My dear," Lady Lucas would say of a day, "tell me again of your acquaintance in Bath?"
Maria would sigh and jab her needlepoint, or tug on her gloves and say, "I hardly know what you mean, Mama. I was surrounded by all of my familiar acquaintance - whom you know as well."
"Well!" Lady Lucas would huff. "I can't imagine that the whole of Meryton retrenched to Bath while you were there! And certainly no gentlemen of fortune!"
So the week progressed, amidst teas and embroidery, resulting in the following conversation as Lady Lucas and her daughter returned from Longbourne, where they had just visited the elated Mrs Bennet and the demure Kitty, to Lucas Lodge. Both Bennets had spoken of nothing but wedding clothes and wedding dates and all flusters pertaining to a marriage. That very morning, too, they had received several letters of congratulations, and one from the man himself - which Mrs Bennet took the liberty of opening.
"Oh, it warms my poor heart!" Mrs Bennet cried as Kitty handed her the knife. "I must tell you, Lady Lucas, there is nothing like a daughter wed that calms my poor nerves! I have not had an attack of the hysterics since Sunday last, as you must know, and that only brought on by good spirits and joyful thoughts - for that was the day we received your letter, Kitty, as you must know. And oh, Lady Lucas, I cannot speak for trembling! I am all a quiver! I only wish you might have as much felicity for your own daughters, when their time comes. Although I dare say you have nothing to fear with so many strong young boys. You cannot know the heartache of a mother of five girls! But three are married - no, I've not heard from Lydia, Lady Lucas, though it is good of you to ask - she is far too busy to write, I am sure. I am quite sure I never wrote anybody when I was first married! But look, Lady Lucas - is not Mr Ellis' hand a fine hand indeed? Is it not so very straight and proper! Oh, my dearest Kitty - I cannot weep for laughing - you have made a fine conquest indeed! A very fine conquest! Mr Bennet will see now that it is no poor thing to let a girl out to find a husband.ñ The only shame I can find in the whole situation is that Mr Ellis wears no scarlet coat - but we cannot have everything."
"When is the wedding to be, Mrs Bennet?" Lady Lucas had inquired with - it must be admitted - a little temper.
"John must first go to France on business," Kitty responded, "but when he returns we shall be married."
"Then you do not know, precisely?" Lady Lucas asked - glancing significantly at Maria, as though calculating the time of Mr Ellis' journey and return, and the time it would require to engage and marry off her daughter.
"It cannot be long, Lady Lucas!" Mrs Bennet proclaimed. "I can't think anything could keep him away from my Kitty!"
Farewells were made soon after, and as soon as mother and daughter were in carriage home, Lady Lucas burst forth, crying, "And to think that Mrs Bennet can now boast of four daughters married - I have heard nothing else for this fortnight but of that wretched Kitty Bennet - and my own daughter resistant to all that has been lavished on her! How do you account for that, Maria?"
"I am very glad for Kitty, Mama."
"That is not an answer! Your name has had its share of connections - with gentlemen - whom I do not know. The least, I think, you might have done is shewed some affection for Mr Delford."
"La! He is a good friend, Mama - but I could never think of marrying him!"
"Never think of marrying - oh Maria! You shall bring shame and ruin on us all if you continue to befriend gentlemen but never marry!"
"I shall marry, Mama, if I can."
"You must marry, Maria! And quickly, too! You are well nigh twenty, and I'll not have you wait 'til you are eight and twenty."
Maria laughed. "I have no intention of imitating Charlotte!"
"No - for I see you shall not marry. Or that, rather, you have no intention of doing the job yourself. We have been very liberal to you, Maria, in your upbringing. We have never forced your hand one way or another - but I see you will not make up your mind about a simple matter, Maria, and that I must."
"Mama!" Maria cried with great alarm.
"Yes - you must marry, Maria - and since you say you will not have Mr Delford, and since your actions prove that you will not have any other who pays you attention, it seems that there is very little choice but for me to find you a suitable match." Lady Lucas nodded to herself emphatically. "We must go to London."
"London!"
"Yes, yes - to London, and without delay!"
"Oh, but Mama - there will be no more husbands in London than there were in Bath!"
"Where would you go then, Maria?"
"I am certain I do not know."
"As you do not know what is good for you. I shall apply to your father directly. I am sure that he would find such an excursion delightful, for he always likes to visit there, you know."
"Oh - but I am barely home!"
"And what does that signify?"
Maria dithered. "Nothing, I suppose. But, Mama! I should like a little time."
"You have been given your little time, Maria, and have wasted it abominably! You have embarrassed your father and myself most aggreviously. You have associated your name - as I have said - with several gentlemen and yet return without a single promise! You profess to have no interest in marriage - yet you have been home a week, moon about, hum, and inquire after the post incessantly! The only remedy I can see is London. Do you not agree, Sir William?" she asked as they entered Lucas Lodge.
He, who was uncommonly happy that his younger daughter had returned home in much the same condition as she had left, fussed and grumbled at his lady's latest proposal, at last managing, "London, what?"
"I was just telling Maria, Sir William, that you and she must go to London."
"So soon, my dear? She has hardly been home a se'ennight, eh? Can't be running off at every whim and fancy, what?"
"But you see, Sir William, Maria has no husband. She must go to London - and quickly!"
"Quickly? Ah - yes. Quickly. Capital. Would next year, suffice?"
"Next year, Sir William! No! She must go immediately!"
"But Mama," Maria interjected, "the Season is long concluded...."
"The Little Season, then," Lady Lucas replied.
"For husbands, my dear?" Sir William asked petulantly.
To which Maria hastened to add, "I fear me there will be no husbands in London then, Mama!"
"Nonsense. There are always husbands to be had in London. And I know one or two young men that might do the trick for you. Yes, London is the very thing, Maria. The very thing."
No further protestations could move my lady. If Bath had not succeeded, London must - for there were no husbands to be got in Hertfordshire. Of that much, my lady was thoroughly convinced. That Maria might have her heart set on another gentleman altogether never occurred to her - and Maria made no attempt to inform her mother of her heart - for more than once Lady Lucas would console herself that at least none of her daughters had married a soldier in the common way! A month and then Maria and Sir William would be off - and would Mrs Bennet laugh then? She thought not.
And what of Maria? How did she view this plan? In truth - she did not think of it much at all. For Mr Delford's hesitant promise kept her spirits high. Any day she might expect a letter. Yes - any day at all! And if Kitty spoke incessantly of Mr Ellis, and if Lady Lucas deliberated between a Mr Hurgen and a Mr Middon, and if Sir William took to fretting and pacing an hour in his rooms - Maria was yet content, curling in her window seat and dreaming of strings untangled and dreams fulfilled.
Chapter XXVI. Which brings us to another Market.
Sir William's London residence reflected the owner admirably, being situated within sight of St. James' but without trespassing upon it. Which is to say that the house was barely within the perimeter of the West End and that the various spires of importance were visible from the topmost window. The house itself was but rarely occupied and sparsely kept, due to the strain of position and finance, but since Sir William saw the relinquishment of the abode as the abdication from the honour, he could not - no matter the inconvenience to his children, or his daughter especially - give it up.
Maria had stayed there but twice, and each visit of such a short and crowded duration that the house held but few memories - and none of them of a personal nature. Thus, while her return to that city was not accompanied by the disorientation of those who do not know which street leads where, much less whether this room is connected to that, yet it held its own confusion for the peculiar mix of familiarity and foreignness. Indeed, Maria reflected, these last few months had kept her in that very suspended state, and - given her mother's adamance - such a state was not likely to be resolved until she had quit her maiden environs entirely.
Such were her thoughts as she and her father clattered through the twisting, cobbled streets to their modest home, as she climbed the stairs and removed her things, as she viewed the various rooftops of that bustling town. No letter had arrived from the Colonel whilst in Hertfordshire, but a missive from Mr Delford had come - relaying information at once heartening and humorous:
Oxford, - August, 1814My dear Miss Lucas,
It is my sincere hope that this letter from me causes none of the embarrassment or speculation which my house previously afforded you. To that end I send my sincere and prompt well wishes to your Father and Mother, as well as those others of your family. The love of my Mother I also send - her exact and profuse words I shall spare you - both to your own Mother and to you. My sister, I presume, would send more eloquent but less heartfelt love to you, had she taken pen to paper beyond a request to remain at Rosings for another month complete (and informing me of your own plans to remove to London). Alas, Else and Lady Catherine seem well suited for each other - although such a match, I suspect, arises from some ulterior motive on both their parts. I cannot speak for Lady Catherine - indeed! Who would venture such a charge? But my sister's intentions I fear are of the most mercenary variety. Should I be called upon by the highest court to conjecture which gentleman, though, my sister has set her sights on - well, I shall leave this bitter strain, and rather confer to you some glad news.
I have, indeed, taken to write to Col Fitzwilliam, as I promised you - imparting to him the whole of the situation, as I know it. I beg you will forgive me any intrusion on your privacy - but in view of the events which have obstructed your happiness, I could see no other course than crude honesty. Regretfully, I have not received any reply to my presumptuous missive. I only hope that this literary silence here has been rewarded by an effusive deluge of correspondence to you. (By this sentiment, of course, you see that I have not yet purged myself of the romantic sensibility.) I do not, by any means, require any response good or ill. Such matters are best left to the parties in question. We both have seen what social interference provides.
Some other news I have for you as well - you make receive it as you like. Sir Nevil, I have been informed, has indeed repaired to London with the importuned Mr Ladislaw, and will be followed by Mrs Garvers who has - I am told - successfully convinced her husband to prolong his stay there. Such success must be weighted by that gentleman's own hand in politics, of course, and further by his son's rapid progression in years. I have some hope for our Mr Garvers, though, and I think you would do well to seek him out, if Mrs Garvers does not first find you. Whither Mrs Garvers travels, there must also follow my Mother, who I am sure will call on you at the first possible occasion.
I myself am returned to Oxford. My Mother has some notion that I might join her in London for Christmas, for Mr Garvers has determined to remain for the opening of Parliament, and Mrs Garvers will no doubt find that as pleasing as the Little Season. I have no idea yet of either joining her or remaining here - for my studies already begin to consume me, and such consumption is not easily displaced. However, my mind should be more easily swayed were I to know that you were still in attendance in that town.
Again, pray receive my heartiest well-wishes for your family, and my warmest regard for you, whom I regard as a dear friend and sister,
Your servant,
Eduard Delford
The letter, received some two weeks prior, had indeed brought comfort, and alleviated some of the distress Maria felt when Lady Lucas - unable to decide between either Mr Hurgen or Mr Middon - at last informed her daughter that letters had been sent to the homes of both gentlemen announcing Sir William's impending visit to Town. Whilst sealing the letters, Lady Lucas had instructed Maria in those gentlemen's histories - minding Maria that while Mr Hurgen's line was the older, yet Mr Middon's fortune exceeded Mr Hurgen's by two thousand pounds a year. Further, Mr Hurgen only possessed an eccentrically confined dowager mother, while Mr Middon had the care of two unwed sisters with dowries he must provide. Maria also learnt that Mr Hurgen's estate was by far the grander and more ancient, but that Mr Middon owned not only a pleasant estate himself but also a home in London and a cottage in the Lake District. In short, Mr Hurgen was given to Aeschylus and Mr Middon to Euripedes; the one to weight, the other to frivolity. The decision was ultimately Maria's, but secure one of them she must.
Despite such a command, Sir William and Maria dined pleasantly alone that first evening in London - going no where near the Theatre or the Clubs or the Parks, indeed only infrequently glancing out the window. The next morning, however, saw a bustle of activity as the Lucases called on all Sir William's acquaintance, only to return to a trayful of cards from Maria's circle. Sir William was at once proud and distressed at such tangible evidence of his daughter's progress in society, and the afternoon was planned accordingly. Mrs Delford and Mrs Garvers had arrived the previous week and were overjoyed to meet their dear Miss Lucas again - and her father, too! Delightful! With such guides as these two, invitations were not long in coming, and Maria's schedule was soon as full as her Father's.
The inevitable could not long be delayed, however, and so whilst enjoying tea at Lady Branwell's home, the subject of Maria's future was quickly brought to bear. Lady Lucas, perceiving that her husband and daughter might attempt forestall her machinations - and having read Mr Delford's letter previous to relinquishing it to Maria - had written to Mrs Delford entreating her childhood friend for the additional boon, sprung from a mother's concern, their own children's amiability, and their youthful attachment, to attend to Maria's meeting with Mr Hurgen and Mr Middon by any means necessary. Mrs Delford was quite pleased with the project - as well as the prospect of renewing her acquaintance with either party - and at once wrote to assure Lady Lucas of her support. Thus at Lady Branwell's tea, Mrs Delford told at some length her young friend's adventures in Bath, to the great excitement of the assembled matrons. Maria was obliged to remain silent during the exchange - for she served only in the capacity that a statue does to a set of lookers-on at a museum. Rarely is the statue herself expected to aid the tour.
Finally, though, Lady Branwell set aside her tea - long cold, due to her concentration on the adventure - and declared that Miss Lucas must then, absolutely must join her in Trafalgar Square the next day at two, when she was sure that Mr Middon would be in attendance.
"For you know," she said, leaning forward, "he has only just arrived in town, and with as fine a curricle as I've ever seen, and no few other mothers have their eyes on him. If Miss Lucas is to catch him, she must dress finely, and walk with me, for he is sure to stop and speak with me, and I will then have the opportunity of introducing them!"
"But Mr Hurgen is a fine fellow, too," Mrs Delford interjected quickly.
"Indeed he is, indeed he is! And that is why Miss Lucas must first join me for a drive to St Paul's, where I am sure we shall catch him by and by. Yes," Lady Branwell said, nodding emphatically to herself, "first to St Paul's and then to Trafalgar and then - we shall see!"
Mrs Garvers had laughed at that, and patted Maria on the arm. "Did I not tell you, my dear, oh, ages ago that you should do well for yourself?"
The program was carried out well, and Mr Hurgen and Mr Middon proved to be the very essence of what had been described. Both shewed interest in Maria, and she attempted to respond in kind - although it was difficult to muster geniality. The introductions succeeded in securing a morning excursion to Christie's Auction Room with Mr Hurgen and an afternoon jaunt along the Strand with Mr Middon, accompanied by the divers and officious ladies of Maria's acquaintance. These initial meetings encouraged others, and soon nearly every morning was taken with the one, and every afternoon with the other, and many evenings with some diversion or entertainment. All too soon Maria settled into a pattern - a pattern that might have settled into a more permanent engagement - had not London remained true to itself and rained on a Tuesday when Maria found herself alone and quite without a parasol in the park for a few minutes while her chaperone gossiped with a friend a little down the path. Her chaperone, Mrs Delford today, did not notice the drops at first, and when she did thought that Miss Lucas would doubtless follow her and her friend to a nearby pavilion without interrupting the conversation to call to her. In this Mrs Delford was much mistaken, for Maria - taken with the sights of that particular park - did not see either that her chaperone had abandoned her, or which way she had gone. The rain obscured her vision as well, so that when she did begin to stumble towards the nearest pavilion, it was for want of shelter and not companionship. So scuttling through, she nearly tripped in one of the many muddy puddles, but was suddenly caught and kept aright and guided to the pavilion. Providence was with her, for it was to this very pavilion that Mrs Delford and her companion had repaired. So turning to thank the gentleman who had aided her, Maria was surprised to the point of speechlessness when she discovered her saviour to be none other than the Colonel himself. He, drenched and just as speechless, managed a bow and her name. She could not effect a curtsy, but a glow came to her entire being that conveyed more than petty salutations could. They stood that way for some minutes, much to the amusement of the other refugees - of which there were some dozen - finally concluding the interview with a torrent of questions about each other's health, family, and common acquaintances, and one last curtsy and bow. Perhaps it should be noted that the Colonel's hand wavered as though he should have liked to taken hers and kissed it, and it should also be noted that Maria had hoped for such a farewell, but that although desired by both parties, it was not effected. By this time the rain - so sudden in its coming - had ended, and thus the Colonel left with a single backwards glance, and Maria waited on Mrs Delford and her companion for some half an hour before they began the journey homeward.
Her young friend's saviour had not gone unmarked by Mrs Delford, who immediately dredged up from the wealth of half-truths she had ever learnt of this gentleman and his relation to Miss Lucas, and finally confided in intimate of her friends her suspicions that there might be a hidden and secret romance betwixt these two - which hushed raptures Lady Branwell quickly quenched with the dual sabres of fortune and fortune-hunting.
"For you know," said my lady to her confederates, "he is not yet established - and therefore must seek a lady of fortune himself. And," she continued, waving her biscuit significantly, "I have it on the very best authority that such a young lady has already been found for him."
Chapter>XXVII. Involving a happy encounter.
Maria's next meeting with the Colonel bore these two improvements: he had begged leave to call and it was not raining. Naturally, the offer was merrily received, and come the appointed day our heroine's heart was all a flutter. She paced nervously from corner to corner, peeking out the window to the street below with extraordinary regularity. Several times already she had changed gowns, from the white spotted muslin to the yellow figured muslin and back to the white, and finally to a blue evening dress with half sleeves and questionable decolletage. But this would not do at all for Sir William who, in much astounded perturbation, bade her dress in her white gown - the one with the collar about the neck, and the sleeves about the wrists, my dear? - which then was compromised for the yellow figured muslin after all. Her hair, adorned with a white ribbon, suffered no little abuse, and had to be redone with each change of clothing, much to Maria's chagrin. And now she pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, all the while glancing between the curtains and at the mantle clock.
Finally the hour arrived and Col Fitzwilliam admitted with a bow and a handshake. Sir William, aware that his beloved daughter had some affection for the man, was careful to say very little so as to make a good impression, and when he did speak it was of those things that he thought were very grand - such as the recent bet between Lord Blakeney and Sir John Tryon as to which could snip a lock of hair from the other's lady-love first, or how Lord Ermin-DuBlanchard lost abysmally at hazard the week before last at White's. The Colonel responded in kind, and Sir William was encouraged to recount the particulars of his own elevation to the knighthood, which the Colonel received with patient humour. Those niceties dispensed, Sir William offered a glass of brandy to his guest and declared him an admirable chap, yes, a very fine man indeed, a very fine and gentleman-like man! Maria was at once pleased and anxious with her father's presentation of the family, but the Colonel seemed disposed to find anything connected to Miss Lucas as pleasant indeed. So turning to Maria, he inquired as to whether she enjoyed London, which she answered affirmatively - her response grown more, perhaps, from the present company and less from that town.
"And have you met any of our old acquaintance from Bath, there, Miss Lucas?" he asked, drawing his chair a little closer to her.
"I have been once or twice with Mrs Garvers to visit her nephew, Mr Ladislaw."
"Ah, yes!" he cried, smiling. "And has he succeeded in dissuading Sir Neville from his plan?"
"The salons? La! No!" Maria laughed. "I fear me he has quite assisted Sir Neville for want of anything else to do."
They shared a moment of mirth, which passed into amiable silence, until the Colonel said quietly, "And - and have you heard from the Delfords? I believe I saw you with Mrs Delford the other day."
"Mrs Delford - yes, yes I...she has often been my companion when...."
Perceiving her distress, he said, "I believe Miss Delford has been this while with my Aunt? I have not visited Rosings, myself, but I am informed from several quarters that Miss Delford is becoming quite the favourite."
"I have heard so," Maria admitted. Remembering her final few weeks in Bath, she asked, "Have you heard how your cousin fares?"
He blinked. "Darcy?"
"No, Miss De Bourgh. Although I should like to hear how the Darcys are doing, if you know."
He laughed. "I can answer you both. Miss De Bourgh is much improved - my Aunt claims that the waters are miraculous and has determined to return to Bath next year.... But I see you smile, Miss Lucas, are you privy to a secret?"
"A secret?" She shook her head, her fair curls bobbing about her neck. "No, but I've a suspicion. Go on."
The Colonel raised his eyebrows good-naturedly, and continued. "Ah, well. Darcy is...shall we say distracted, to say the least. His last few letters were more terse than his usual pithiness, as though he were afraid that he might be presented with an heir before the ink had dried!"
Maria laughed. "And Lizzy, no doubt, teazes him mercilessly about his concern!"
"No doubt. They do well for one another - and although I envy my cousin at times, it is only for his felicity. And, at times, for his fortune." He paused, examining the contents of his glass, and then said, "I must confess, Miss Lucas - I must confess that our meeting the other day was not wholly coincidental."
"No?"
"No." Here he glanced at Sir William, and his features contorted with conflicting allegiances. Sir William did not appear duly alarmed, and so the Colonel found courage to continue. "I have been in Town these two weeks, and saw you often in the Park - accompanied. I should have certainly approached you sooner had I thought my presence would not have been intrusive."
"You are always welcome, Col Fitzwilliam," Maria smiled. He shifted again, as if he were about to speak, but was interrupted by Maria saying, "But you have not told me of your own business in Town."
"My business!" he cried. "Oh - I am quite sure you would find no interest in my work. Important seals and parchment and stern faces, mainly."
"No, I assure you I would find it most interesting."
Her interest seemed to please him, so he proceeded to regale her with a few, well chosen stories about the officers' life, about the interminable dinners with the interested peerage, about his first impression of Wellington, the "Iron Duke," and so diverted her f›or the remainder of his visit. What a merry hour was that! Each party found their admiration for the other raised infinitely, and even Sir William began to think that sons-in-law might not be wholly dull. The Lucases escorted the Colonel to his carriage, Sir William hanging a pace or two behind, squinting his eyes comically as he realised that he actually desired "a certain desirable event." Maria herself was elated, and no pinching was required to colour her cheeks as the Colonel bent over her hand and pressed it. So joyful was she that she dismissed the hesitation in his parting words as nothing, rather than wondering what he might have said. Oh! It was so much happiness! So much joy! She sighed as she watched the carriage depart, and swung slightly from side to side, humming in a manner most delectable.
************
Continued in Part 4
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