Page 23
“I still smell a rat,” replied Richard.
“Look, Richard! There’s not a respectable mother who will let their daughter near Robert after the incident at Lady Jersey’s ball; and once the rumour got around that I’d extracted him from that hell-fire club… Well! We can kiss goodbye any chance of a match with an eligible English heiress of title. Even the Cits aren’t that desperate!”
Richard’s lips twisted in begrudging acceptance of the truth of these statements. “How old is she?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Ha!” cried Richard triumphantly.
“She looks perfectly well! Just look at her portrait yourself.”
“Paintings can lie. You don’t suppose that Robert will co-operate for a moment if she is not at least passably good looking.”
“Robert will bloody well do what he is told for once!” snarled the earl.
Richard silently wished his father good luck with that one. His 32-year-old elder brother had done pretty much as he had liked since he had left Eton at fifteen. Richard subsided. There was no use arguing, even if he thought the whole farrago a hopeless cause.
“I’m sorry, Father. I cannot go. Why can you not go?”
“Because parliament is sitting and we need the numbers,” said the earl, staring into the fire.
Suddenly Lord Geoffrey sighed and heaved himself up, wincing as he put weight on his sore toe. “I had better be off to White’s. There’s a meeting to discuss strategy before tomorrow’s session. That bloody Wilberforce is stirring things up again.”
He bid the young men goodnight and hobbled off, calling for his hat, cane and a hackney.
Richard felt slightly guilty. He had expected the earl to argue more. His father’s uncharacteristic early withdrawal from the lists and increasing physical frailty bothered him.
“So, you cannot get leave?” asked Darcy of his cousin after the door had closed.
“Well, I probably could if I pulled a few strings, but the major-general will be fuming. He’ll take it out on me for months afterwards in his own petty little ways.”
“Your father is right you know,” added Darcy softly. “It is going to be very difficult for Robert to find an eligible match in England after that latest incident. I spent weeks making excuses for him after Lady Jersey’s ball.”
Bingley was agog. “I will not dare to ask about the hell-fire club, but would it be impertinent for me to enquire just exactly what Robert did at Lady Jersey’s Ball?” he asked. “Not travelling in the first circles, I am afraid I am quite in the dark.”
Darcy was abashed at his loose lips. He cast an apologetic glance at Richard who shrugged.
“He took a bet that he would not swing naked from the chandelier in the vestibule,” replied Darcy.
“Oh, well!” replied Bingley, who might have got up to some similar antics in less public places at Eton. “I hope there weren’t any ladies around.”
“He had the cork-brained idea of taking a running leap off the balcony on one side and swinging to the other,” explained the colonel. “Unfortunately, he brought the whole chandelier down on top of himself and was lying senseless on the floor in his birthday suit when the Countess Lieven sought to depart.”
“Oh dear!” said Bingley.
“She was remarkably good about it,” continued the colonel, “and Darcy and I managed to get Robert into a room off the vestibule with a couple of footmen before too many other people came upon him. Unfortunately, it must have proved too good a story for the countess to keep to herself, as it subsequently became common knowledge despite our efforts.”
“Well, mum’s the word, then, eh?” said Bingley.
On the third morning following Mr Bennet’s death, the Squire of Longbourn was laid to rest along the back wall of the churchyard, joining his forbears.
Lizzy had accompanied her aunt and uncle Gardiner to the church service with Mr Collins. Her uncle had at first demurred when she requested to attend. He thought it one thing to sneak Lizzy into the Royal Society dressed as a boy but quite another for her to attend the funeral service. But Lizzy argued persuasively, promising him faithfully she would not break down in public. Acknowledging that as Mr Bennet had no sons, none of his offspring would be present at the service if Elizabeth did not go, Mr Gardiner weakened. When Aunt Gardiner weighed in on Lizzy’s side and offered to accompany them, Edward Gardiner conceded to force majeure.
The church was filled with villagers wearing what they could to denote their mourning of the squire’s passing: most of the men were wearing black armbands while the women sported black bonnets or shawls. All rose as the Bennets entered the narthex, causing Mr Collins to straighten himself to his full height and strut down the aisle with his chin in the air. Lizzy was too wan to even inwardly smile at his ridiculous behaviour; she could only view it with resignation.
The bier had been transferred to the church earlier by Mr Hill and several village men under the direction of Mr Hyde. Lizzy and Mary had followed the pallbearers as far as the front door. Outside, some villagers who had come to pay their respects waited. Her uncles, Mr Philips and Mr Gardiner, had distributed largesse to the small crowd from a bag of shillings, after which the villagers had followed the coffin in procession to the church.
Approaching the coffin to say her final farewells before the service, Lizzy noticed some flowers had been laid next to it. She nodded to the curate, Mr Elliot, who was standing near the pulpit, before retreating and being ushered into the family pew by her uncle Philips. Sir William Lucas, who had occupied the pew behind the Bennets with his older sons, laid a comforting but somewhat proprietary hand on her shoulder as she shuffled sideways past him. Elizabeth kept her eyes downcast but contorted her face in what she hoped was a thankful smile. Sir William had always tried to ingratiate himself with the Bennets. Since the Astleys had quit Netherfield, the Bennets were the nearest representatives of the landed gentry to Meryton. She had always found Sir William’s attentions embarrassing, and only tolerable because of her friendship with his daughter Charlotte. Elizabeth supposed she should now be honoured by his notice after the change in her social status. Or perhaps, she thought, this is just the last gasp?
