Page 22 of London Holiday (Sweet Escapes Collection #2)

Chapter twenty-two

M rs Jennings’ party had secured the use of a supper box near the statue of Handel. There was a gentleman seated there already, and he looked as little amused as Darcy might have done himself, if dragged unwillingly to a frivolous venue and saddled with such a silly wife and over-bearing mother-in-law. He had brought his own paper to the Gardens and apparently found it far more interesting than the sights or the people.

“Mr Palmer!” his wife exulted, lending every energy to her manner which his lacked, “Come, I simply must have you meet Miss Bennet!” She turned back to Elizabeth with a proud smile and even bobbed a little in excitement when her husband obliged.

Mr Palmer glanced over the edge of his paper with eyes that showed no flicker of interest. “Hmm. A pleasure.” He glanced back down and continued his reading.

“There, Miss Bennet, did I not tell you? He is absolutely the drollest fellow! I simply never know quite how to take him. I think he likes you very much, for he smiled, did you see? Here, you must sit beside me.”

The supper boxes were arranged in something of an inverted “U” shape, with a long table amidst the benches and three walls about to create a sort of half-room. There was comfortable seating for perhaps ten persons at the table, and a waiter promptly brought himself to attend them.

“You have never been here, have you? Oh, you simply must try the rack punch. Legendary it is! No one may visit without taking some. And, of course, the ham, for you have never seen the like. You will not believe how thin it is! Why, I think a half pound could paper my entire house.”

Mrs Jennings was somewhat behind her daughter in settling at the table. She was so much red in the face from the exertion of walking that when she at last poured herself into the bench beside them, she readily seconded her daughter’s request for the beverage. The waiter bowed smartly and returned a short while later with the repast.

“Now, Miss Elizabeth, let me know more of you.” Mrs Jennings’ curiosity had lent her the strength to recover her breath miraculously well. “I was not able to learn many of your particulars last night. You said that you have family in Hertfordshire?”

“Yes, ma’am, my parents and four sisters, one of whom you met last night.”

“Four sisters? And no brother? Such a pity! But it is not a hopeless case. Why, I have just seen the happy conclusion of some courtships which none could ever have thought possible. Two young ladies, poor as church mice, but both very good sorts of girls. One of them was quite taken with a blackguard, the other with a sweet fellow who was nearly trapped by a youthful vow. What do you think? It all came right, and so it shall for you.

“I daresay you are not quite so handsome as Miss Marianne, nor so easy tempered as Miss Elinor, but a young lady in possession of such a pretty face and such an engaging wit as yours should encounter no more difficulty than they. Let me think….” She tapped her fingertips on the table at her eyes rolled up in serious deliberation.

Darcy was standing at the end of the table all this while, positioned opposite the other family’s footman, and trying to keep his countenance. Surreptitious glances informed him of Miss Elizabeth’s discomfort with this blunt line of questioning, but her patience was not entirely spent. She was blushing most prettily, but in evidence also was a small quirk to her lips which indicated an equal measure of amusement at the well-meaning busy-body. How such a woman as his Miss Elizabeth might fare at the hands of Lady Catherine, he could not help but wonder! Could she be so gracious as she was now? Perhaps even diverted enough that the price of enduring his aunt’s company would be well compensated?

His musings took quite a different turn at once, for the question of seeking a mate for Miss Elizabeth was not one that their hostesses were inclined to neglect.

“What of Mr Spencer, Mama?” Mrs Palmer smiled, looking vastly pleased with herself. “He fancies ladies with darker hair, I believe.”

Mrs Jennings tilted her head, studied Miss Elizabeth for about three seconds, and then shook it firmly. “No, not half good enough! He is a simpleton, and she would soon tire of him.”

“Mr Irving? Oh, now there is an intelligent man!”

Mrs Jennings made a face. “A homely sort, although a good enough fellow. But no—you would not pass for a parson’s wife, Miss Elizabeth. I am sorry to say it, but it is true. You would upset half the ladies in the parish and be called irreverent, though you and I both know you mean no harm by it.”

Miss Elizabeth’s brows arched and she almost smiled. “Thank you,” she commented mildly.

“Oh! Mama, I have just the perfect notion. Do you remember Mr Bradley? He has just inherited, you know, and he will be seeking a wife this season.”

Mrs Jennings pursed her lips and appraised the hapless young lady with new interest. “Indeed, a capital notion, my dear! He will have an estate to manage, though it is a small one. In Devonshire, my dear, so you would be my neighbour! He is not often among society, and I think he would not object to a lady of lesser family, but he would be quite taken with one of Miss Elizabeth’s cleverness. Yes, it might be just the thing! Perhaps I ought to host a house party this fall, and you must come, Miss Elizabeth.”

Darcy coughed, two or three times. It was preferable to the bark of objection that he repressed, but it drew notice, nonetheless. But, hang it all, Miss Elizabeth and Joseph Bradley? If it were the same man he remembered from Cambridge, he would not wish the fool’s boorish company on any woman, let alone one of Miss Elizabeth’s calibre.

She was looking at him now, a slight concern written upon her features. “Mrs Jennings, may I order some rack punch for my attendant? I believe his throat is dry from our wanderings in the Gardens.”

“By all means, my dear! He must have some of the ham as well, for it shall be a long evening.” At a wave from the good lady’s hand, Darcy found himself almost instantly suited with a glass and a plate. He bowed his gratitude and proceeded to drink of it slowly—more to conceal his chagrin at the thought of Bradley and Miss Elizabeth than to soothe his throat.

“Upon my word, Miss Elizabeth…” Mrs Jennings was regarding him narrowly now, and he shifted his gaze slightly away from the tables. Still, he felt his face burning under the warmth of her scrutiny. What could the woman have noted? He searched rapidly through his memory, but he was certain he had never seen her before.

“Ah! There it is. My apologies, Miss Elizabeth, but your footman is terribly familiar to me. I had thought perhaps I had seen him before in the house of another. Is he new to Mr Gardiner’s employ?”

She cast him a conscious look, but quickly returned her attention back to Mrs Jennings. “Rather, you might say.”

“Sure, that is it. I am certain I have seen him in Marylebone somewhere, perhaps at a house party. One does not quickly forget such a handsome face, be it footman or gentleman, am I right, Charlotte? Now, as I was saying, Miss Elizabeth, you simply must come when I give a party of my own, for I shall invite all manner of eligible gentlemen. Fear not, for I shall not make a spectacle of you. I know many other girls who would be pleased to come, for my door is always open to young ladies. I do enjoy the company of the young so! I will be certain to invite Mr Bradley, as well as Mr Smith, Mr Irving, Mr Bingley, Mr Grant… let me think, what other eligible young men are to be in town after the fall shooting?”

He started at Bingley’s name, unfortunately drawing at least one pair of eyes back to himself. Perhaps this loitering in Mrs Jennings’ box was ill-advised, after all, for if she had great enough familiarity with a man such as Bingley as to consider inviting him to a house party….

“I have it!” Mrs Jennings was shaking her finger with a knowing smile and staring directly at him. “Miss Elizabeth, your footman bears a striking resemblance to a gentleman I know of. I have never spoken to him. I would be beneath his notice, do you see, but indeed, he has the very look of him. Why, the pair could be twins!”

Miss Elizabeth held herself admirably well—far better than he was faring himself. While he might have dashed away in that instant, hiding his face from all with his hat, she had the temerity to laugh.

“How very amusing, Mrs Jennings! I shall be certain to tell my aunt that her new footman is, in fact, a high-ranking gentleman in disguise. Is he an earl’s son? A duke’s?”

“No, my dear! Only the nephew of an earl, but in his way, he is a finer catch than either of your suggestions. A young man, not yet thirty, in full possession of his inheritance. And such an inheritance it is! But I should not torment you with the details, for he is beyond my humble society and known to be rather taciturn. Therefore it is not in my power to introduce you. What is more, I read only this morning that he is betrothed elsewhere, so it will not do to think of him. But what do you say, my dear Charlotte, is he not the very image of—” Here, she leaned close to her daughter and whispered a name.

Miss Elizabeth was biting her lips and blinking in his direction as the two ladies conferred. He jerked his head to the side, an ardent plea for removal from the box, and she gave a short little nod of agreement. Their resolve, however, came too late to spare him the additional mortification of Mrs Palmer’s appraisal .

“Indeed, he does, Mama! Why, I should never have noticed had you not said, for I have never been in the same room with the man, but I have seen his portrait. We toured that estate, you remember, on our return from Scotland. Mr Palmer! Do you not agree?”

Mr Palmer lowered his paper long enough to grant his wife a look of patent boredom. She cupped her hand round her cheek and mouthed something to him. He narrowed his eyes, glanced at Darcy with marked ennui, then replied, “I see no resemblance.” The paper raised again, and nothing more could he be induced to say on the matter.

“Oh, is that not exactly like him!” Mrs Palmer laughed. “Indeed, I never know quite what to think.”

“Well,” Mrs Jennings lifted her punch dismissively, “I hope you will forgive us for sporting with your footman, Miss Elizabeth, but my son-in-law is quite wrong. But no matter, for my object is fixed, and I must not be diverted from it. You shall attend my party if your mother can spare you again from home, and we shall have a merry time of it. Bring at least one of your sisters; I absolutely insist upon it. Ah! I see the orchestra is arrived! Miss Elizabeth, where can your party have got to? They shall miss the music!”

Darcy’s eyes went to her face, and once more he blessed her for her easy social graces. “Indeed, ma’am, and I think perhaps I ought to go and look for them. Perhaps they are somewhere waiting for me.”

“Oh, then indeed you must go, Miss Elizabeth. We shall stay here, but do bring them back to visit and hear the music if you can persuade them.”

“I thank you, Mrs Jennings, Mrs Palmer.” She turned to look at him fully, extending her hand so that he might help her to her feet. He could not miss the significant widening of her eyes, the endorsement of a quick departure, and he hurried to concur.

“…And the glazing on the Eastern wing alone cost in excess of—”

“My dear Mr Collins,” Mrs Gardiner interrupted, “will you not take some more tea? I fear you will damage your throat, for it is quite dry in here, and a parson must take care of his voice.”

“Oh! Indeed, madam, you are quite right!” He beamed proudly at the lady’s condescension, quite easily forgetting that he had been unable to finish the afternoon’s fifth recounting of the majesties of Rosings Park. “You are indeed too good, Mrs Gardiner,” he bowed upon accepting the cup. “As my patroness so frequently asserts, true gentility is found in the address and manners of even those of lower station.”

“I am sure I thank you, sir.” Mrs Gardiner forced a smile. “Kitty?”

Kitty Bennet rolled her eyes and held out her cup for the third refill in the last hour. “Thank you, Aunt,” she mumbled, thinking that she must excuse herself soon. A fourth cup of tea would all but ensure that she could legitimately part from Mr Collins’ company for at least a quarter of an hour, and so she readily addressed herself to it, whether she craved it or not. Hopefully, he would soon find himself in a similar predicament.

“Now, as I was saying, Mrs Gardiner,” Mr Collins helped himself to another serving of finger sandwiches, “there is nothing like a comforting blaze. Why, even in the warmest months, Lady Catherine advises that the fire be kept bright, for not only does it cheer the aspect of any room, but it does not do to leave the chimney cold. I can think of no surer way to invite unwanted pests to make their nests in the brick.”

Kitty glanced over at the empty hearth, saw her aunt doing the same, and snickered. Mrs Gardiner was spared the trouble of excusing her domestic arrangements when her manservant entered with two notes on a tray, and she was able to pardon herself to take them. One of these was addressed to Mr Collins, and it was promptly given to that gentleman, while the other was for Mr Gardiner. Mr Collins relieved them of his company at once, for upon beholding the style and hand of the address, he coloured, held his breath, and rushed from the room to read his auspicious missive with the proper reverence of absolute privacy.

Mrs Gardiner looked at the one addressed to her husband in some puzzlement, turning it over to observe the seal on the back. “Kitty, my dear, have you any acquaintance in Grosvenor Square?”

“None at all, Aunt.”

“How very curious! It is a short note, for it is only one page thick and folded in half. It does not quite have the look of an invitation, nor yet a letter of business. An introduction would require two pages, at the least.”

“Perhaps it is someone of Uncle’s acquaintance. Has he not friends who would write a short note? Perhaps a gathering at one of the gentlemen’s clubs?”

“Perhaps,” Mrs Gardiner conceded. “Though he is not a member of any, it might be some business friend or other. I shall lay it aside for when he returns home, though I do not know when that shall be today.”

“I do hope he hurries because I do not think I can bear another hour entertaining Mr Collins. At least Lizzy was able to stay away, for it would have been far worse for her here. Even if she is sorting books in the warehouse, I am quite jealous of her. How angry she will be when she learns about Mr Collins shouting her name upon the streets earlier!”

Mrs Gardiner opened her mouth to reply, but the door to their sitting room burst open, and Mr Collins himself was panting his excuses. “Forgive me, Mrs Gardiner, but I am afraid I must leave your most amiable company. My presence is required by my patroness, and I dare not displease her by careless delay!” He turned and lumbered away, calling for a footman to help him on with his coat and to summon a carriage.

Kitty sighed and fell back into her chair, all pretence at drinking tea and reading Fordyce happily forgotten. “Good riddance!”