Page 21 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 21

M ortification burned Elizabeth’s cheeks. It all started with Kitty and Lydia’s hasty return from Meryton bursting with complaints about Mr. Wickham’s inexplicable absence and announcing they had seen a stately carriage with windows on all sides, a coat of arms on the doors, pulled by four matching bays, and a footman almost as tall as Mr. Darcy perched on the back with the finest silk-encased calves they had ever seen.

“A coat of arms, you say?” Mama forgot about the bout of nerves which had afflicted her all morning. “Did you notice in which direction it traveled?”

Kitty replied, “It continued up the road toward Netherfield.”

“Netherfield! It must be Mr. Darcy’s relatives come to meet Lizzy! His mother comes from aristocracy, and his grandfather was an earl.”

“I would make an enchanting countess! What a laugh! I would lord it over all my sisters,” boasted Lydia.

Mama tapped her chin. “If they have come to meet us, then the least we can do is present ourselves.”

“Mama!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “We cannot call without an invitation.”

Her mother waved her objection away. “We are free to call on Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy whenever we wish. If their noble relatives are there, who are we to know it?” She rubbed her hands together. “A coach full of unmarried noblemen!”

“We do not know that, Mama.” Jane tried to dissuade her, but their mother’s head was too full of possibilities to be reasonable.

Launching herself from her chair, Mama readied her daughters with remarkable speed and attention to detail. Mrs. Hill and Sarah hastened from one room to another, ruddy-cheeked and damp with exertion. After one hour, not one hair was out of place, nor could a wrinkle be found in a skirt.

Papa tried to escape into his book room, but Mama was insistent. His argument that they would not all fit in the carriage was no obstacle to Mama.

And so, Elizabeth found herself sitting beside her father in the cart ahead of the carriage, doused in perfume, braids pinching her scalp, whalebones from the old stays Mama insisted she wear jabbing her in the ribs. It was the worst of humiliations to be a party to her mother’s plan to thrust themselves on Mr. Darcy’s family.

What pained Elizabeth even more was the knowledge that her first impression was bound to be a poor one. She had imagined meeting them; she had practiced conversations; she knew which gown she would have preferred to wear. But this? There was nothing she could say or do to undo the damage certain to occur.

Papa leaned down and sniffed her hair. “Much better after a good airing.” He laughed.

Elizabeth pressed her cold hands against her cheeks and prayed fervently that the butler refuse them entry… or even better, that the household not be in.

But they were in. Before the twists in Elizabeth’s stomach made her ill, the butler showed them into the parlor.

A young lady with alabaster skin, golden hair, and a stylish gown draped becomingly over her figure clung to Mr. Darcy’s arm.

Elizabeth went numb… and then she felt Mr. Darcy’s bold, proud gaze on her. Elizabeth stewed, an unfamiliar sensation gnawing at her gut and hardening her face. Perhaps Mr. Darcy thought it was acceptable to flaunt his friendship with beautiful ladies in town where such things were expected of gentlemen of his sort, but he had led her to believe that he was different. She lifted her chin, her eyes meeting his defiantly, demanding an explanation.

Only now that she saw his expression clearly, she noticed the sheer misery in it. His chest and shoulders rose and his cheeks puffed out like hers had moments ago when she felt nauseated, and she realized her mistake. The way he placed his hand over the young lady's was not possessive, it was protective.

Elizabeth’s relief was too great to remember her embarrassment. She had been mistaken to jump to conclusions so quickly—an error she had made too frequently with Mr. Darcy. The girl at his side could be none other than his sister.

Miss Darcy tugged her brother closer and whispered into his ear. After he smiled and nodded, she released her hold on him and stepped tentatively toward their callers, her large, brown eyes looking anywhere but directly at Elizabeth. "I have been eager to meet you." Her soft voice warbled, and it was impossible for Elizabeth not to feel compassion for the girl. This was hardly the haughty heiress Mr. Wickham had described. Far from it!

Mr. Darcy introduced them to his sister and cousin Richard, and Elizabeth relaxed. They would offend no earls or countesses today. To the contrary, Elizabeth hoped to make two allies.

Mama’s eyes widened when the colonel was introduced. Without looking behind her, she caught Kitty and Lydia’s hands to propel them closer to the gentleman. Mary was intelligent enough to stay out of their mother’s immediate reach and therefore avoided being pushed at the poor man.

There was nothing remarkable in his features, and while he cut a fine figure in his tailored coat, he was not particularly tall. For Kitty and Lydia, the final nail in his coffin was his lack of a uniform. Had he been wearing his military coat, they might have shown greater interest.

This was lost on Mama, who would not fault the gentleman for wearing civilian attire when he was a colonel in the regulars and the second son of an earl.

The charming ease with which the colonel received Mama’s string of compliments and replied to her intrusive questions won Elizabeth over. He was quick to laugh without taking offense. Elizabeth could easily imagine him and Mr. Darcy getting into scrapes. Masters in mischief, the two of them.

Mr. Bingley beamed at his surplus of guests. “Now that you are all here, I insist you stay for tea. A merry party we shall make!”

Jane directed her sweet smile at Miss Bingley and Miss Darcy. “We do not wish to inconvenience you at the last minute. Your guests have only just arrived and must wish to rest. Perhaps a later date would suit better?”

Miss Bingley was quick to agree.

However, Mr. Bingley was not dissuaded. “They have had over an hour to rest, and Miss Darcy is strong. You do not mind, do you?”

Fluttering her eyelashes, her cheeks rosy pink, Miss Darcy said, “I would never take away from your pleasure.” The tenderness in her tone… the way her gaze lingered on Mr. Bingley… her eyebrows furrowing into a confused frown when he went to stand beside Jane rather than her—Elizabeth had too many sisters to not recognize the signs. Miss Darcy was smitten with Mr. Bingley!

And now, she was jealous of Jane.

“Then it is settled!” proclaimed Mr. Bingley, entrusting his sisters to see to the arrangements while Jane apologized yet again to their hostess.

Mr. Darcy considered the whole scene with a disapproving frown, but Elizabeth did not know whether his scowl was directed at Mr. Bingley’s attentions toward Jane or his own sister’s infatuation with his dear friend.

Returning to them, Miss Bingley moved to Miss Darcy’s side and took her arm as though they were the dearest friends. "Miss Darcy is accustomed to the first circles. While she shall miss the quality, her presence here is a breath of fresh air for those of us with higher tastes."

Elizabeth bit her lips. It would not do to meet such a comment with a sarcastic retort. She shot her father a warning look, but he was deep in conversation with Mr. Hurst and Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mama flitted about, still trying to get Mary, Kitty, or Lydia to take an interest in the unattached gentleman.

Miss Bingley seemed to sense her overstep. She tittered, adding, "I daresay the ladies here shall benefit from Miss Darcy's exemplary example of a truly accomplished lady."

Elizabeth arched her eyebrows and pinched her lips tighter. Poor Miss Darcy! She did not look like the paradigm Miss Bingley had described. The girl stood looking uncomfortable with her hands clasped in front of her and her gaze fixed to the floor.

It was plain Miss Darcy's accomplishments might be abundant but redirecting a conversation disagreeable to her was not one of them. Her brother's clipped replies were lost on Miss Bingley, who continued pressing the matter, assuming an intimacy that the young lady clearly did not share. "You must play for us, Miss Darcy!"

Mrs. Hurst clapped her hands, enraptured with the idea and encouraging Miss Bingley to continue in her torment. "I am certain your equal has not been heard in all of Hertfordshire. You could show the ladies how it is properly done." Her eyes flickered over to Mary and back to Miss Darcy.

Mr. Darcy looked about to say something everyone—his sister included—would regret.

Elizabeth smiled at Miss Bingley, directing her words at the lady. "We should be delighted to hear Miss Darcy play once she has rested from her travels, should she wish to exhibit her talent. But you forget, Miss Bingley, we have had the pleasure of listening to your superior skill as well as that of Mrs. Hurst over these past two months. You do not give yourself enough credit. I would be delighted and edified to hear either of you play for us again."

Once again, Elizabeth sensed Mr. Darcy's penetrating look on her. When she turned to him, she saw unmistakable, glittering gratitude.

Elizabeth felt light, happy. Indeed, who would not feel a respectable degree of pride at having so pleased a gentleman difficult to please?

Miss Bingley forced a pinched smile, caught between pleasure at hearing herself praised before the people she most wished to impress and aggravation at the source of the compliment. She was right to doubt Elizabeth's motive, given their brief history, but Elizabeth knew when to control her tongue. She would not risk shocking an impressionable young lady merely to make a witty retort.

Mr. Bingley chose that moment to whisper to Jane. He was all smiles, and Elizabeth would have rejoiced in his warm attention to her sister had she not seen Miss Darcy’s confused dismay.

Elizabeth noticed. Mr. Darcy certainly noticed. And Jane, bless her gracious, kind heart, noticed. She met Mr. Bingley's enthusiasm with a more subdued interest.

Fortunately for everyone, a woman Elizabeth supposed must be Miss Darcy’s governess entered the room carrying a basket. “If Miss Bingley does not object, perhaps her guests would like to see the kittens?”

Lydia and Kitty squealed. "Kittens!" They darted across the room and reached into the basket. A black kitten gave a loud hiss and squirmed out of Lydia’s hands to drop to the floor, his back arched and his fangs displayed. With his snow-white collars and gloves, he looked like a vexed butler stirred too early from a well-deserved nap.

The girls laughed and left him to lay on a warm spot on the carpet while they searched for more agreeable playmates.

Achoo! Miss Bingley sneezed and attempted to sniff delicately. “Delightful creatures, are they not?” she observed in a nasal voice.

Two maids entered to set the round table, placing the tea service in the center and surrounding it with platters of sandwiches, slices of meat and cheese, sweetmeats, and a tray of apple tarts and currant cake.

Colonel Fitzwilliam patted his stomach. “My compliments to your cook! You set a fine table, Miss Bingley. Your brother is fortunate to have you as his hostess.”

The colonel’s praise was joined by Mr. Bingley’s, whose approbation was received by his sister with a scowl. She attempted to arrange her guests around the table while Mama followed behind, disassembling her plans.

Kitty pressed Miss Darcy to tell them more stories about her kittens, a subject upon which the young lady spoke with greater freedom and joy the longer her audience encouraged her to continue.

Not one to allow all the attention to go to another, Lydia shared a few stories of her own, to which Miss Darcy seemed grateful.

Ever eager to promote her daughters’ matches, Mama said, "Lizzy especially loves cats, but Jane prefers dogs."

Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed. Reaching for his tea, he pounded on his chest with his other hand and cleared his throat. After a sip, he asked, "Is that so? Why the distinction?"

Miss Bingley snorted. "What a question! Miss Darcy is fortunate with Serafina and her offspring. In my experience, most felines are snarly creatures who thank you for your attentions with bites and scratches."

The colonel raised his eyebrows. "You must have a great deal of experience with the species."

Mr. Bingley chuckled. "Our aunt in Scarborough keeps at least a dozen cats as pets."

Miss Bingley's teacup was not large enough to hide the disgust on her face.

Jane said, "Dogs are always so happy to see their master—even if he or she is only away for a few minutes, they make you feel as though you are their favorite person in the world."

Colonel Fitzwilliam looked levelly at Jane. "Would that people were as loyal."

Jane replied, "I have often wished the same."

If Mr. Bingley had a tail, he would be wagging it. "That is precisely my thought."

The colonel did not look away from Jane. "And can you explain Miss Elizabeth’s preference for obstinate felines?"

Jane shifted her weight in her seat. "I cannot speak for Lizzy, but I have always suspected she is drawn to the independence cats are known to display."

The colonel turned to Elizabeth. "Is that so?"

Elizabeth knew better than to take this sort of conversation—or the gentleman making the inquiry—too seriously. She promptly replied, "They do not suffer from want of personality. I love dogs too, but they tend to be more consistently loyal and agreeable. There are exceptions, of course, but to win the affection of an independently-minded cat, that is an honor worthy of some pride, for their approval is so rarely bestowed."

"Well said." The colonel clapped.

Mrs. Hurst was not as impressed. "Lovely as they are, cats are so much more work. I would rather not put forth the effort when my exertions are more easily rewarded elsewhere."

Mr. Darcy spoke. "That is precisely the point. Some enjoy the challenge."

Elizabeth felt her smile in her bones. He understood her.

"Have you picked names for the kittens?" Kitty asked.

Miss Darcy shook her head. "I have not."

That provoked several gasps around the table.

"What do you call them? Kitty One? Kitty Two?" Lydia giggled at her own joke.

Miss Darcy picked at her fingers, her voice barely above a whisper, "They have such distinct personalities. I have not been able to settle on the perfect names.” She looked up and just as quickly back down at her hands. “Besides, I shall not be able to keep all of them, and I fear growing too attached if I give them names."

"Very sensible."

In response to Mary’s commendation, Miss Darcy looked up at her with a small smile.

Miss Bingley suggested she name them after French authors. When Miss Darcy tentatively supplied several options. Molière, Comtesse (de Ségur), Corneille, Sevigné... every name was met with a blank look Miss Bingley attempted to disguise by proclaiming herself enraptured with their work.

Colonel Fitzwilliam could not countenance a name originating from the country with which England was at war. "Colonel or Commander would make a fine, strong name for the tomcats."

Papa suggested a Greek God theme. "Artemis is often associated with cats in Greek mythology. Her Roman goddess equivalent, Diana, was known for transforming into a cat."

Mr. Darcy suggested music-inspired names: Nonet, Cadenza, Iphigenie, Almavia, Allegra... Miss Darcy appeared pleased at his knowledge of musical vocabulary. To take such an interest in something his sister loved, he was obviously an attentive brother.

Kitty proposed names of flowers and gemstones.

Mr. Hurst shouted out names between bites of cake: Bob, Mr. Whiskers, Daphne, Clarissa. His wife even forgot herself and added a few suggestions of her own.

In the end, there were so many choices that Miss Darcy declared it impossible to select only four. It was unanimously decided that the individual who successfully named any of the kittens would have the privilege of taking that kitten home once they all were weaned in two weeks.

“Just in time for the wedding!” Mama’s mind never strayed far from the subject. “Two weeks from Sunday. Of course, you will stay to attend?”

The colonel answered with a devilish gleam. “We would not miss it for the world.”