Searching for Pemberley (21 page)

We ate pub grub—steak and kidney pies—which was a good sign if the pies really had steak in them. After finishing our meal and another round, Jack asked Rob if there was anything else he wanted to do while they were in that part of the country. What Jack was actually asking was, did he want to visit the cemetery at Madingley. Rob thanked him but said he would rather not, and we left it at that.

On the train ride back to London, I thought about something Rob's roommate had once told me. “There were so many ways to die when you flew for the 8th Air Force. Planes exploded on the runway for no apparent reason or collided in the fog during assembly. They crashed on takeoff or were shot out of the sky, sometimes by their own guys. They went down in the Channel and crashed on landing. Flak, fighters, and fog all killed.”

I had mixed feelings about our Memorial Day outing. I believe the sacrifices made by others on our behalf should be honored. However, acknowledging those deeds can sometimes be too painful for those who survived while their friends did not. On the train ride home, while Rob slept, I looked at his face and the scar on his cheek and wondered what other scars he had that I would never see.

FOLLOWING THE MEMORIAL DAY ceremonies at Bassingbourn, I wanted to think pleasant thoughts about love and romance and not about B-17s being shot out of the sky. A dose of romance, eighteenth-century style, was just what I needed. After opening the package I had received from Beth, I read her note, which indicated the enclosed letters were written when Elizabeth was visiting Charlotte Chatterton in Kent.

6 July 1792

Dear Jane,

Much to my surprise, I find Charlotte to be quite content as the wife of Mr. Chatterton. She is agreeable to all that is expected of a minister's wife and has been well received by his parishioners. With Mr. Chatterton in his study writing sermons and Charlotte content in the parlour, this marriage may prove to be a success. They have a lovely garden and a
good view of Desmet Park. I walk in the park every morning, as the weather is perfect for such exercise.

Last evening, I dined at Rosings Park and was introduced to Lady Sylvia Desmet and her daughter Anne. Lady Sylvia wore an elaborate powdered wig, and her gown was the richly embroidered brocade favoured by the Queen and wide enough to hide a litter of kittens. I much prefer the French-styled dresses, which are so popular in town and are truly elegant in their simplicity. Shall I offer Lady Sylvia some of the muslin I bought in London?

Charlotte tells me Her Ladyship is very attentive; I say she is nosy. She asked me a dozen questions before the tea was poured. She has an opinion on everything, and I felt as if I was constantly defending myself. Because of nerves, I was so unsure of my French that I professed ignorance of a language I have studied. For the same reason, I chose not to disclose that our grandmother saw to our education, so we had no need of a governess.

As for the daughter, she is rather pretty but looks as fragile as a porcelain doll and said hardly a word all through dinner. Just as we were leaving, she told me that she liked Charlotte very much and would have said more, but when her mother came near, she stopped talking. Charlotte says we will probably have a visit from Anne tomorrow. She rides by in her phaeton every day when it is warm, so she can get fresh air and get away from her mother, I suspect. I have lost the light and will write more tomorrow.

Anne Desmet did visit Charlotte today and surprised me greatly by saying she already knew about me from letters from her cousin, Mr. Lacey. He told her I possessed
intelligence and great wit, and he was very complimentary of my beauty. I asked her if that was why he had fled Hertfordshire, because he had met an intelligent woman, to which she replied, 'Very possibly.' I do not understand why Mr. Lacey would write to his cousin and tell her I was a beauty, when he had decided at the assembly that I was only tolerable. Anne said he is to come to Kent in a week. At present, he is attending the cricket contests between Oxford and Cambridge. I may meet him in the park on my walks, but other than that, I am sure he will keep to the manor.

Please write often. Papa gave me money for the post. I want to hear all that is going on in London.

Love,
Lizzy

It was clear from this letter that Anne knew her cousin was already in love with Elizabeth, and because of that, she felt comfortable in telling Lizzy that Will admired her. It must have been Anne who had informed Mr. Darcy that Lizzy was in Kent, and guess who was coming to Desmet Park?

12 July—Mr. Bingham and Mr. Lacey and his cousin have arrived at Desmet Park, and Mr. Bingham has called on Charlotte at the parsonage. When he asked after Jane, I said she was in good health and was ever as she had been, and he said it was the same with him. I am very surprised the gentlemen have come at all. When I was in London, the season was providing an endless succession of breakfasts, balls,
dinners, and concerts. We were unable to obtain tickets to the opera because the crowds were so great. It is possible that the lords and ladies have tired of town and have returned to their country estates. As exciting as it was to be in London, the city did stink because of the heat, horses, and overburdened cesspools.

14 July—Mr. Bingham, Col. Devereaux, and Mr. Lacey came to the parsonage today to pay their compliments. Although the colonel is not as handsome as his cousin, his personality has great appeal, and he actually enjoys a good conversation. Mr. Lacey said little other than to ask after my family. He has that distracted look again. Before leaving, he said his aunt had invited us to supper on Friday and is to send her carriage for us. Mr. Chatterton just about fell over himself when he heard the news.

17 July—For the most part, I had a delightful evening. I sat between Col. Devereaux and Mr. Bingham. When I informed Mr. Bingham that Jane was currently in London, visiting with our uncle, he was genuinely pleased to have news of her and said he would call on her when he returned to town. Col. Devereaux is a man of many tastes and is very knowledgeable, especially about events taking place in France, and fears that things will go badly for the king. The only flaw in the evening was when Lady Sylvia insisted, quite emphatically, that I play on the pianoforte. I believe, in an effort to put me at my ease, Mr. Lacey offered to turn the pages and insisted I underestimated my musical talents. Col. Devereaux joined us,
and wishing to tease the gentleman from Derbyshire just a little, I asked the colonel if he enjoyed conversation more than his cousin did. Mr. Lacey defended himself by saying he has no talent for talking with people not of his acquaintance. Now, in an effort to put him at his ease, I told him that the people of Hertfordshire were eager to engage in conversation with someone of his education and position in life. Then he said, 'You are quite right. If my behaviour has given offence, I apologize. Hopefully, there will be opportunities to make amends.' I did not know how to respond. Mr. Lacey has the most mercurial temperament of anyone I know. If only he would smile more, for he is very attractive when he does, and did I mention his fine legs?

After reading this entry, I couldn't understand how Lizzy failed to recognize that Will Lacey was attracted to her. He repeatedly crossed paths with her while she was out walking in Rosings Park, visited with her at the parsonage, and apologized on more than one occasion for the unfavorable impression he had made when they had first met. And what did Lizzy think he meant when he had said he hoped to have opportunities to make amends in the future? If Lizzy was confused, Charles was less so, because on July 22nd, he left Rosings Park to return to London, no doubt to call on Jane.

23 July—I have met Mr. Lacey three mornings in a row in the park. I am sure he knows when and where I will be walking. I do not understand why he rides just at that time, especially since he does little except to ask after my health and
to comment on the weather. Charlotte thinks Mr. Lacey is in love with me. What a ridiculous notion! I assured Charlotte that someone of Mr. Lacey's position in life considers me to be nothing more than a diversion, because he is bored in the country.

25 July—I have had the privilege today of meeting Mr. Lacey's sister, Miss Lacey. She is eighteen or nineteen years old and greatly resembles her brother with her dark hair and gray eyes. Miss Lacey came to Rosings from London. She said she has been in town since Easter and has attended so many balls and dinner parties that she is glad everyone has returned to their country estates. She spoke with great amusement of all the young men who professed their love for her although she had done no more than dance with them. She is well aware that their attentions had more to do with her fortune than her. A Mr. Oldham, a strong, handsome man of about twenty-five years, accompanied Miss Lacey, and it is my understanding the gentleman is her constant companion. I wonder if something happened to Miss Lacey, making it necessary for her brother to employ a man for her protection.

26 July—Mr. Lacey and I had an interesting conversation today while walking in the grove. I said I hoped there was nothing wrong in London to require Mr. Bingham to return so quickly. Mr. Lacey replied that 'Bingham is his own man. He does not require my permission to travel about the country.' I doubted that but said nothing. It was such a beautiful day. I wanted everyone to be happy, even the
dour Mr. Lacey. 'May I ask, sir, what gives you the most pleasure? Is it the theatre, the opera, riding? Your cousin considers you to be an eager dancer when amongst your acquaintances. I am curious as to what you enjoy most.' He misunderstood and thought I was once again rebuking him for his behaviour in Hertfordshire. He answered: 'Miss Elizabeth, I am aware I made a very bad first impression when I came to Hertfordshire. I was in ill humour that day because, on the way to join Bingham, one of the horses threw a shoe, greatly lengthening my journey.' I said that, if his horse losing a shoe had put him in such ill humour, we were fortunate the beast had not broken its leg. Then Mr. Lacey actually laughed out loud. Oh, how handsome he is when he laughs. We continued to walk in the grove, and he said he preferred smaller, private balls rather than large, public ones, and intimate dinner parties of no more than six or seven couples. He recently had the pleasure of seeing Cambridge soundly defeat Oxford at cricket. I know nothing of that sport, but I must admit I was pleased that Mr. Lacey and I were able to engage in a conversation of some length. He can be quite charming.

By this time, we had come to the road to the parsonage, but I wanted to continue our conversation. I told him how honoured I was to have been introduced to his sister, and he freely confessed he is devoted to her and takes pride in the way she performs in public, showing a maturity beyond her years. He then mentioned that Miss Darcy and his cousins intended to play croquet on the lawn tomorrow morning and invited me to join them. Without hesitation, I accepted. What a change has come over me. I thought him to be so
proud and disagreeable, and now I see a different side to the gentleman from Derbyshire.

27 July—There is yet another side to Mr. Lacey. He is a very serious competitor even when playing croquet with his female relations. Of course, he was the first to strike the final stake, but I finished second. He seemed pleased that I had done so well without actually beating him. I pointed out that the only person I had bested was his sister. Anne is so fragile a creature she provides no competition, and Col. Devereaux deliberately missed, so he would keep pace with her. Mr. Lacey gave me instructions on how to improve my game and insisted we go through the course again. Afterwards, we were enjoying tea on the lawn when Lady Sylvia, with her lady's maid in tow, descended upon the group, and the atmosphere immediately changed. Alas, the conversation turned to me! Lady Sylvia decided I should be introduced to a Mr. Whitman, the local printer, who, according to Her Ladyship, 'will do well enough for you.' Upon hearing this remark, Mr. Lacey walked back to the house, leaving those remaining to amuse his aunt.

Just when it seemed as if Will and Elizabeth were finally getting along, Elizabeth received Jane's letter recounting George Bingham's visit with her in London. Although she was deeply offended by Mr. Bingham's description of her family, it was nothing compared to her anger with Will Lacey when she found out he had gone to London for the very purpose of ending the romance between Charles and Jane.

30 July 1792

Dear Jane,

There is only one interpretation for George Bingham's visit. Charles (May I call him Charles?) has asked for his brother's blessing and permission to marry, and now that George Bingham has met you, he will have it. I would be very surprised if Charles didn't make you an offer very soon. If he doesn't, he is beyond hope. I would not waste one minute of thought on what Mr. Lacey will think of your engagement. If Mr. Lacey chooses to end his friendship because Charles is in love with you, he is not a true friend. On the other hand, if your conscience dictates that you must refuse Charles on account of his friend, then you should do so. But I must warn you that I will thereafter regard you as the greatest of fools.

I do not know how you sat through Mr. Bingham's dissection of our family. How embarrassing to have our weaknesses laid bare. But what did he say that was not true? Until at least one of her daughters is well married, Mama will continue to look at every unattached gentleman as a possible match for one of us, and instead of providing guidance and correction, Papa looks at his wife's inappropriate behaviour as theatre. Celia and Lucy are still young enough to make changes for the better. But these alterations must happen immediately, or it will be too late.

Apparently, Mr. Lacey left the ball at HH and went directly to London. What an arrogant man he is to think he knows what is best for his friend, especially since you now have learnt that Charles has been perfectly miserable since he left Hertfordshire. George Bingham has given Mr. Lacey too
much power over Charles. Some guidance is appropriate, but what right does Mr. Lacey have to determine who Charles should or should not marry?