Page 29 of Cads & Capers
CHAPTER SIX
With a quick, sideways pirouette, Elizabeth ducked into the nearest hiding place—the empty space behind a large pillar to one side of the couch—and there found sweet sanctuary. A private area, out of sight, with just enough room to lean against the cool exterior wall while she collected herself. A space where she could—and presently did—laugh silently but heartily at her own ridiculous compulsion.
Miss Darcy was one of the gentlest, most mild-mannered young ladies Elizabeth had ever met; to hide from her was wholly unnecessary, she was sure. Yet, they had not been in company since the previous summer at Pemberley, and any conversation was likely to include news of her brother’s comings and goings in the intervening months—his inevitable preference for some new lady, perhaps even his marriage. Considering which, Elizabeth did not blame whatever part of herself had decided to bolt like a startled animal upon seeing her.
She had long ago acknowledged that Mr Darcy would eventually marry someone else, but she could not say that she was yet reconciled to the idea. It made her feel rather bilious, in fact. Although good sense told her one must exist, she could not imagine another woman who, in disposition and talents, would suit him as well as she. A woman of the same unbending and fastidious temperament as Mr Darcy would not do at all! He needed liveliness such as hers to improve his manners and soften his heart. She fancied there were few, if any, women of his acquaintance willing to be sportive with him in the way she was.
Stupid girl! she chided herself. Patently, it was not liveliness Mr Darcy wanted, otherwise he would have come back.
She sighed heavily in an attempt to dispel the disagreeable reverie—and when that did not work, she leant to peer carefully around the pillar to determine how easily she might slip away without being noticed by the pair on the couch. Miss Darcy and her gentleman friend appeared to be deep in conversation about the exhibition. The only people in the entire place genuinely interested in the paintings, Elizabeth mused.
“It never occurred to me to consider it in such a way,” Miss Darcy was saying. “It would be wonderful to hear more, but I must go. My companion and I have another engagement this afternoon.”
“What a shame,” the gentleman replied.
“It truly is. I declare, I could come here every day and always find something new to appreciate.”
“Then, what do you say to doing just that?”
“My lord?”
“Pardon me—I recognise that our acquaintance is of exceedingly short duration, but I have enjoyed it enormously. I wondered whether you would consent to meeting me back here again tomorrow, at the same time. I shall tell you everything I know about whichever paintings you choose.”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush with heat, mortified to have trespassed on such an intimate discussion. If she knew her at all, she imagined Miss Darcy must also be blushing fiercely in the face of such marked attention.
“I should like that very well indeed,” Miss Darcy replied, and her breathless voice did indeed reveal all the awkwardness of overt flattery.
“Excellent,” the gentleman said. Elizabeth jerked backwards to avoid being seen as he began to stand up, thus she could not see him as he said, “Until noon tomorrow, madam.”
Neither could she see Miss Darcy as she replied, “Until noon tomorrow, Lord Rutherford.”
Then, despite all her efforts to remain out of sight, Elizabeth could not help but thrust her head around the pillar to gape at the pair in disbelief, but they were already walking away. She came out from her hiding place and stared after them, confused and not a little alarmed. If that was Lord Rutherford, to whose arm was Kitty clinging?
“There you are, Lizzy! Where have you been?”
She looked around to see Kitty emerge from the same churning crush in the centre of the room into which Miss Darcy and Lord Rutherford had just disappeared. “Where have I been? Where were you ? I looked everywhere!”
“I was taking in the exhibition. Most of the portraits are nudes, you know!”
With a last, infuriated groan, Elizabeth grabbed Kitty’s elbow and directed her firmly around the outside of the room towards the exit. Under her breath, she whispered, “Who were you talking to? I know it was not Lord Rutherford.”
“No—and thank goodness it was not! Would you cease shoving me? What is the rush?”
“What do you mean ‘thank goodness it was not Lord Rutherford’?”
Kitty jerked her arm out of Elizabeth’s grip and made a great show of rubbing it. “Apparently, he is an awful man. You brought me to meet a rake.”
No less confused than appalled, Elizabeth stopped walking, but before she could think what to say, Kitty pointed at her and said, “I told you you should have worn a different gown.”
“What?”
“Have you not noticed the way everybody is looking at it? Honestly, what were you thinking? You came here on Monday—you must have known this place was little more than a walking fashion plate, yet you still came dressed as a milkmaid.”
A quick look around confirmed it. People were staring, but not at her. It seemed her vastly unfashionable gown had been the cause of every sidelong sneer. She shook her head in consternation and tugged Kitty towards the door. “Rest assured I shall not wear it here a second time, for I believe I may safely promise you never to come back to this place again.”
Elizabeth thanked the attendants at the door and bustled Kitty out, setting off directly for home. “Tell me everything. Who was that man and what did he say to you about Lord Rutherford?” She did not miss the look that crossed her sister’s face as she began her explanation—a faraway aspect in her eyes and a dreamy smile.
“His name is Sergeant Mulhall. When he sat down next to me, I thought he must be Lord Rutherford, so I did not hesitate to talk to him. He told me he came to see the paintings but was not much taken with any of them and that he was only sitting on the couch to get his full shilling’s worth before leaving again.”
Elizabeth gritted her teeth and schooled herself to patience, certain that hastening her sister would only dissuade her from telling the story at all. She nevertheless wished Kitty would spare her the minutiae.
“We spoke a bit about how pointless most of the paintings were—who wants to look at pictures of flowers and hay wains when you can just as easily go outside and look at the real thing? And he asked me why I had come if I did not like art.” She giggled. “That was when I realised he was not Lord Rutherford, because when I said I was there to meet him, he said he was very glad to have made my acquaintance, but he had no idea who I was.”
“At which point, he presumed to introduce himself, did he?”
“Well, we had already been talking, so I thought I might as well allow it.”
Elizabeth sighed quietly. She supposed it was no more inappropriate than the meeting that had been supposed to take place.
“In any case, he asked me who I thought he was, and when I said ‘Lord Rutherford,’ he went all peculiar.”
“In what way?”
“Sort of…stiff. Like Mary goes when you say something rude, and she disapproves but doesn’t want to say so. I had to work on him for quite a while before he admitted that he had heard of the viscount. He was quite reluctant to tell me anything, but I could tell he was concerned, so I refused to give up.”
“Poor man,” Elizabeth remarked wryly. Kitty could be relentless when she had set her mind to something.
“But I made him tell me in the end. According to him, Lord Rutherford is shockingly loose in the haft, and not to be trusted with any woman’s virtue.”
Elizabeth frowned doubtfully. She had learnt the hard way that giving credit to the slanderous whispers of strangers was a guaranteed way of making trouble for oneself. It was on the basis of Wickham’s lies that she had rejected the only man she had ever met who she truly believed could make her happy. The present situation differed somewhat, for she knew neither Lord Rutherford nor this sergeant Mulhall—it ought not to matter what either man thought of the other. Except there was now another party involved, and it mattered very much to Elizabeth that she not be caught up in any unpleasantness.
“Did he say how he knew Lord Rutherford?”
Kitty squinted at nothing, then shook her head. “I cannot remember.”
“It makes no sense. Why would Lady Tuppence think it helpful to my reputation to be seen with a man of dubious honour?”
Her sister shrugged. “Maybe she does not know her cousin is a cad. Bad people rarely go about shouting their wickedness from the rooftops. Either way, I am not sorry. Sergeant Mulhall was a most agreeable substitute. He is so witty! I thought I might pee myself when he told me he had counted thirty-four bare bottoms in that first room alone.”
“Faith, Kitty! I beg you would exercise some decorum. You are nearly nineteen years old and hoping to secure a husband. No man of worth has ever been captivated by vulgar manners or a propensity to laugh oneself to incontinence at the slightest inanity.”
“Sergeant Mulhall enjoyed it well enough when I laughed.”
Elizabeth refrained from sighing at her sister’s naivety. “Good for him. Is he planning on marrying you?”
“Maybe. He has asked me to meet him for a walk in Potters Fields tomorrow.”
“What?” Elizabeth looked at her sharply. Her sister still wore the same wistful expression. “Kitty, you cannot do that. You do not know him.”
All the softness fell away from Kitty’s face. “I did not know Lord Rutherford, but you left me to meet him alone—and it turns out he is an out-and-out reprobate!”
“I did not leave you alone. At least, I did not intend to.” She stopped making excuses and blew out her cheeks in surrender. “You are right. I ought never to have agreed to meet Lord Rutherford, and I certainly should not have asked you to meet him in my stead. I am very sorry. But even more reason not to do it again—especially not outdoors, away from the safety of other people. It is entirely unsuitable.”
“But if you came with me, it would be respectable. There is no rule that says two sisters cannot walk in a park and say good day if they happen to see an acquaintance.”
“He is not an acquaintance. And there is a rule—it says, ‘Lizzy Bennet has no wish to walk in Potters Fields’.”
“But you like walking.”
“Not there, and not tomorrow.”
Kitty, whose strides had been increasing in length and pace the angrier she grew, now stopped walking altogether and regarded Elizabeth with her jaw set. “You will not go with me? Despite what I did for you today?”
“I will not go with you because it is not a good idea. If he likes you, let him call on you.”
“He does not know where I live.”
“That is because he is not a proper acquaintance.”
“But I really like him.”
“Very well. If you are so determined it is a good idea, ask Aunt Gardiner to accompany you.”
Kitty growled in frustration. “You know she would never agree to it!”
“That is your answer, then.”
“I cannot believe you!” Kitty stormed off again, her boots banging audibly on the pavement and her angry words half swallowed up by the wind. “You are an absolute…have it your way…not go… hate you!”
They walked the whole way back to Gracechurch Street fifteen yards removed from each other, and Kitty went directly to their room as soon as they arrived home. Elizabeth felt terrible, and not just for refusing her help. She must take responsibility for having almost introduced her sister to a libertine as well. Yet, no matter how passionately Kitty had pleaded for her chaperonage the next day, she could not have agreed to it. She had a different engagement to intercept.