“Yes, my dear; indeed, yes. There is nowhere quite like Pemberley. Now, let me tidy your hair. You need not unpack, Eliza. A maid will do that for you.”
“Who was that lady, Mama? The tall thin one all in black, with the acidulated voice?”
“That is Miss Caroline Bingley, sister-in-law to Mrs. Bingley. She has not a happy nature, I’m afraid. At one time, I think she hoped to marry Mr. Darcy—but I must not gossip. It is all a long time ago.
“Now, if you are ready, my dear, we shall go down.”
The afternoon was not all pleasure for Eliza. She and Jonathan found themselves in a group of young people, comprising not only Henry and her newfound Darcy cousins, Juliet and Fitz, but also Amabel and Anthony Bingley and the quiet young girl who had arrived so closely on the Collinses’ heels, the Honourable Lucy Baluster.They refreshed themselves in the yellow saloon, a very pretty sitting room, decorated with yellow cushions and hangings, once known as “Miss Georgiana’s room,” and now Juliet’s special domain.While they enjoyed a luncheon of fruit and cold meats and little cakes, two more young people arrived, a striking and exuberant pair, Torquil and Catriona Fitzwilliam. The children of Colonel Fitzwilliam, they were both tall, handsome, and auburn-haired, confident and talkative and obviously good friends with the Darcys. Exclamations were heard as the Darcys flocked round the newcomers. A stream of family references and “do you remember” exchanges dominated the gathering. Jonathan and Eliza found themselves relegated to the edge of the group.
Charlotte Collins sat with Mrs. Darcy and her gentle sister, Mrs. Bingley, in the long saloon overlooking the lake, whose northern aspect rendered it delightful for summer. There also were gathered Lady Charles Baluster and, a little later, Miss Morag Douglass, a cousin of Lady Moira Fitzwilliam, who was acting as companion and chaperone to Catriona Fitzwilliam. Meanwhile, the older menfolk, comprising Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and Lord Charles Baluster, had made their way to the stables.
Miss Caroline Bingley, to Eliza’s dismay, came and went between the two groups of women, relishing her importance as a guest at Pemberley, but unwilling to relinquish her self-designated post of guardian to Lucy Baluster.
It was Juliet Darcy who set the tone of the afternoon gathering. Her manner was imperious and she seemed to have trouble remembering Eliza’s name. Henry greeted Eliza with his old ardor, his eyes lingering on hers as the introductions were made. She smiled back shyly, but as he started to speak, he was interrupted by Juliet, who announced her intention, after they had refreshed themselves, of carrying the girls off to her own room.
“Catriona, I must show you my dress for tomorrow. And you must show me yours. Lucy, what color shall you wear? I hope we shall not all be the same.”
Henry tried to divert Eliza to the stables on the excuse of showing her his horse (“your old friend,” he said), but Juliet would have none of it. “Jonathan may go with you, Henry. And Fitz and Torquil,” she said with an imperious nod of her head. “We will go upstairs. And later I want to show Lucy and Eliza the conservatory.” And the young men had obeyed her, though Henry wished to stay with Eliza and Fitz with Amabel. Juliet, thought Eliza, was used to having her own way.
But Henry too had a mind of his own. Even as he accepted his dismissal, he turned to Eliza to say, with a slight bow, “We shall meet this evening, but pray save me tomorrow morning, Miss Eliza. We will ride tomorrow.” And then he was gone, leaving Eliza bright-eyed and wistful.
The hours spent discussing dress in Juliet’s flouncy bedroom passed slowly. Eliza had one dress made specially for the ball, but her dress for dinner that evening was not new, merely her best. She knew she could not compete with these privileged young women in the matter of apparel. She longed to explore the beauties of Pemberley, both indoors and out. The day was brilliant, and the room grew over warm. Eliza began to make friends with Amabel Bingley, who asked about Longbourn, her mother’s old home, and Meryton, and expressed an interest in Eliza’s life there. Lucy Baluster said little. Juliet and Catriona kept up an animated chatter on London friends and activities, in which Eliza and Lucy could not join. At last they adjourned to the conservatory.
Here, at least, the glass doors were open to the terrace. Inside, the conservatory was hot and humid; trickles of moisture ran down the windows farthest from the doors. It was a jungly place, thought Eliza. Vines reached to the rafters while below grew exotic flowering plants and shrubs, gardenias and camellias, frangipani and rare orchids. A heavy, heady scent filled the air. Eliza wandered away from the group, moving from plant to plant, smelling the flowers and admiring the brilliance of color and the delicacy of individual blooms. Juliet was offering gardenias as accessories for the formal ensembles for the ball.
Eliza found Lucy by her side as she explored the farther reaches of the glassed enclosure.
“Are you interested in flowers?” she asked, attempting to strike up a conversation.
“Our conservatory at Langston Court is one of Mama’s great pleasures,” said Lucy. “It is not as large as this. Mama teaches me a great deal. And McTavish, our gardener, is my friend. He says I stay still and don’t fratter, as my brothers do.”
“I know more about insects than plants,” confessed Eliza. “But the two go together. Some flowers are more attractive to butterflies than others. My brother Jonathan is a naturalist.”
“It was he, I think, I met in the hall? There was no time to speak...” Lucy remembered a pair of gray eyes and a friendly, admiring glance as she mounted the stairs.
“Yes, he is my dear friend. He is so kind to me,” said Eliza. “I missed him very much when he was away at Cambridge. And soon he is taking a post in London with the Royal Society. It is exactly the thing for him, Mama says; she is very pleased. But home will be empty without him.”
“How nice for you to have a close friend among your family. I have no sisters, and my brothers are much younger, ten and eight. Sometimes we play, but they are so boisterous. They rush around and fight and make a great deal of noise.”
They had circled the conservatory and drawn near to the rest of the party. Miss Bingley was once again one of the group, and Lucy drew back a little, behind Eliza. But to no avail.
“There you are, Lucy. So hard to find! I was wondering where you could be. But I am always glad to take the trouble. Don’t you think it would be better if you rested on your bed? Such a tiring journey!”
“I am very well, thank you, Miss Bingley, not tired at all,” said Lucy, looking despairingly at Eliza.
Eliza had just been noticing a perfect spider web filling a windowpane next to the open door leading out to the terrace. Miss Bingley was quite close to that window. Eliza glanced at her tight-lipped face, thin corded neck, and over-ornamented dress.
“Only see,” she said now, pointing out the web to whomever was interested. “One seldom finds a web so perfect. It’s as intricate as a lace handkerchief.”
Her sleeve brushed the web, and the spider rushed out of hiding. It was fat-bodied, gingerish in color, quite large, and very leggy. Miss Bingley stepped hurriedly back behind the other girls, her hand at her heart. Juliet gave a small scream.
“Oh, how dreadful. Do come away. I must tell Cameron to kill it.”
“Oh, no, please don’t!” cried Eliza. “Spiders do so much good in a conservatory. They help keep down whitefly and mosquitoes and other egg-laying pests, Jonathan says. I think insects are fascinating. Do look, Lucy.” She managed to ease Lucy in front of her, closer to the door, pleased to see the other girl seemed quite unafraid.