Virtue and Vanity: Continuing Story of Desire and Duty (4 page)

Chapter Five

“The match goes to Lieutenant
Fabry
,” shouted the announcer. A dejected Andrew Darcy sheathed his foil and came to stand in front of Sir Thomas and the English entourage. John and Maria rushed to hug their brother. Maria gushed, “You were marvelous!”

“You always say I’m marvelous.”

With a pat on Andrew’s back, John said, “Good show, old boy.”

Before taking his seat, Andrew said “I wish I had parried his right thrust better. If our coach had been able to travel, I am sure he could have improved my play.”

Sir Thomas replied, “Your moves were excellent. Your skill allowed you to make it to the third round--that is quite an accomplishment at this level of competition.”

“We will always be proud of you,” Lady Staley said with a smile.

Sarah hoped to give Andrew a look of encouragement, but as he sat down, his attention turned to Laura, who refused to give him eye contact.

John continued to win in the third and fourth rounds and the group from Derbyshire eagerly awaited his championship match. John stood before them and said, “At last it has come. I am matched with Captain Wiley.” He paused for a moment and looked at Laura, “Shall I beat him?”

She replied, “By all means. His arrogance is irksome; it will serve him well to be bested.”

Both John and the group were silent for a few moments, reflecting on Laura’s last statement, when the announcer interrupted, “And now, the final match, between Mr. John Darcy and Captain Wiley.”

The contrast in colors was striking as John Darcy, with the British-red jacket, stood next to the light blue French uniform of Captain Wiley.

They separated, bowed, and the match was on. It soon became apparent that the struggle was one of quickness and nimbleness, on the young Mr. Darcy’s part, and that of strength and masterful moves on Captain Wiley’s part. Sarah detected a look of surprise on the French officer’s part when John eluded his well-set traps.

As the match progressed, Sarah could see that both combatants were tiring and she worried for her cousin. She prayed silently that neither man would be injured. She noticed that Andrew sat on the edge of his seat, with his eyes glued on his brother. His hands occasionally made slight movements as though he were holding a foil and participating in the match.

At the final break, John motioned Sir Thomas and Andrew over and asked, “What should I do?”

Andrew replied, “Mr. Coning repeatedly said to fight with your head and not your heart. . . The French captain is overconfident and that is making you angry.”

“I know that,” snapped a breathless John. Softening his voice he asked, “What should I do?”

“You must remember to hold the handle of the foil like a bird. If you hold it too tight, you will kill it; if too loose, it will fly away.”

Andrew and John turned to look at their uncle who mused, “Perhaps you should take advantage of his overconfidence.”

“And?”

“The French love their coup de grace. Retreat, cower, anticipate, dodge, and the rest is up to you.”

In the final moments, John was backing up as if he were beaten; Captain Wiley made the final victory lunge, only to miss John, who twirled and pinked a surprised Captain Wiley. The obvious winning move silenced the home crowd, but the English side went wild with cheers. These accolades continued as the referee held John Darcy’s hand high at the end of the match.

“Well done, nephew,” Sir Thomas shook his hand and congratulated John as he came off the stage. “I only wish your father and mother could have been here to see your dashing performance.”

“I knew you would win,” Lady Staley said with a big smile.

Inhibitions aside, Laura and Sarah rushed to John’s side and he lifted both in the air, one in each arm, as he twirled around and in the process kissed each one on the cheek. He put them down and Sarah saw him spot his twin brother. John walked over and shook his brother’s hand with all the warmth and meaning of an English handshake. Such brotherly love soon evolved to a hug. As they did so, John said, “Were you not such an excellent sparring partner, I would never have grasped the championship ring.”

“I am proud to have the best swordsman in England and France as my brother,” Andrew replied.

Sarah was moved as she saw Andrew genuinely congratulate his brother. She wished Laura would someday likewise exhibit such sisterly warmth.

Chapter Six

Sarah had mixed feelings as her hair was being fixed for the day. She was quite pleased at her cousins doing so well in the tournament. The pleasure that came with John winning the championship felt like that any sister might feel towards a brother.

On the other hand, the invitation to Madame Duval’s house filled her with trepidation. She must spend the entire day with her sister, Laura, with whom she had never spent an agreeable day. Early in life her sister had been domineering and disrespectful. This had led to the sisters separating at their own request after their mother’s death and the preoccupation of their father. Laura went to live with her aunt Caroline, the Countess of
Westbook
, and Sarah moved into joyous peace at Staley Hall.

Over the past four years, Sarah had observed that her sister’s sojourn with her snobbish Aunt Caroline did nothing to improve Laura’s disposition. Sarah hoped to see an improvement in her sister and planned to place the best interpretation on any behavior; none the less, she would at least try to guard her own feelings.

With dressing completed, Sarah descended the stairs to meet her sister. Laura looked quite beautiful in her white day gown and wide-brimmed hat.

Sarah said, “You are quite handsome in your dress.”

“Thank you, sister. I think you look
well.
. . but your dress seems rather nondescript. Do you not realize that we are to meet the Marquis today? Perhaps, I should help you select something more suitable.”

“I am afraid there is not time, we must be prompt on such an auspicious occasion.” Continuing with a sad smile, Sarah said, “Besides, sister dear, I fear you would find my entire wardrobe consists of non-descript gowns.”

Laura leaned closer to Sarah and said, “Smell my perfume! It is the latest fragrance in Paris” After the obligatory sniffing, Laura grabbed Sarah’s arm and led her out the door. As they stepped outside, Laura released her grip and clapped her hands with joy. “What a perfectly lovely day. The sun seems to shine as never before--I am sure it will bring out the fine sheen of my golden hair. I will have to make sure the Marquis sees me outside in this glorious light.”

Sarah’s mood began to brighten with the outside air and the thought that her sister might be agreeable. At least if Laura was busy thinking of her own beauty, she would be too self-absorbed to pick at Sarah’s shortcomings.

Stepping into the carriage, Laura exclaimed, “I wonder what this young Marquis looks like. It would be difficult to marry an ugly face--but then, if he is charming and rich enough, I suppose I could endure a plain face and form.”

“Marriage?
Is this what you are thinking of?” Sarah queried.

Laura looked surprised and answered in a condescending tone, as though explaining something to a child.
“Of course.
I am at that age when a woman needs to consider marriage. And, as Aunt Caroline has taught me, I hope to marry well.”

“Do you not think a Marquis a bit out of our class?”

“All noblemen wish for a pretty young wife.”

“I think I would be cautious when dealing with such an aristocrat.”

“That is all right for you, I daresay. With your facial scar and lack of coquetry you have little hope of marrying well, if at all.”

Sarah swallowed her hurt and reminded Laura, “Sister, we have very little dowry.”

“Hah. As Madame Duval says, ‘
A
handsome woman needs proportionately less dowry than others.’”

“Still, this Lord may take little notice of us.”

“If that is the case, then I shall just marry Andrew Darcy.”

“Andrew?” Sarah said with more emphasis than she cared to show.

“Yes, Andrew. . . Oh, I know he is not the most gallant man, with his stuffy scientific endeavors; but, with the Darcy fortune Pemberley would be splendid.”

“Has he said anything to you?”

“Not in words. But I am sure if I set my sights on him, I can fix his intentions.”

Sarah wished to divert the conversation from any displeasure she was feeling and asked, “Do you think Maria will be at Madame Duval’s?”

“She hopes to be. If her brothers finish their business, they will bring her by.”

The carriage arrived in front of Madame Duval’s residence. Madame Duval came out to greet them.

“Have you had any visitors yet?” Laura eagerly asked.

“If you mean the Marquis, no,” replied the elderly chaperone as she escorted them into her parlor. The threesome sat down as Madame Duval said, “My brother, the general, is always complaining of my matchmaking; but, it provides so much diversion to introduce women to an appropriate beau.”

“Now then girls, have you sent out any invitation cards?”

Laura replied, “We have not received any cards. I suppose we are not yet known.”

“You must forget your provincial English custom of waiting for cards and invitations. In France, it is the new-comer who is supposed to send his cards around to the people they are desirous of visiting and then wait for a response.”

Sarah asked, “Isn’t that presumptuous?”

“Not at all.
In France, we assume the newcomer wishes to be alone unless he indicates otherwise.
A much better social introduction scheme than what you English or the Americans have.”

“You will also be amazed at another custom of France in that we matchmakers often place advertisements in the paper stating that a certain person is in quest of a wife or husband.”

Astonishment filled the faces of Madame Duvall’s two guests.

“Shall I tell you of my latest success?”

The sisters nodded.

“I recently helped a charming girl with a good fortune of four hundred thousand francs. She was of the mercantile class.

Four and twenty proposals were made to this young lady. In every case she was permitted to decide for herself. When matters went to far as to render an interview desirable, it was arranged for the parties to meet at the house of a mutual friend, where they might see each other, or dance together.

Over the twelvemonth, the suitors of my young
protegeé
formed a curious list.
Nobles, wealthy
roturiers
, soldiers and
savans
.
One was too tall, another too short; this one too ugly, and that too handsome. One was too noble, an odd objection I must say, and another objected to because he was a dandy. I heartily approved of her latter objection since dandyism is almost conclusive evidence of a frivolous mind. She finally
choose
a warm hearted son of a judge and they have been happily married since.”

“Your story is most remarkable,” Sarah said thoughtfully.

Laura eagerly asked, “What do you know about the Marquis de
Mascarrille
?”

The elder woman replied, “Very little. I only know the title exists. He shall have us at a disadvantage until we learn more of him.”

With a smile, Laura said, “At the end of the day, we shall know the answers to all our questions. Aunt Caroline has schooled me well in the art of alluring a gentleman and enticing him to tell the essential
information.
. . besides, men love to talk about themselves.”

Sarah sat on a smaller chair beside her sister and said thoughtfully, “Unfortunately, we will only learn about him from his own lips. It may be difficult to determine the truth in his answers.”

“Sister, be not so skeptical. A man of true quality would not intentionally deceive us.”

“Perhaps not, but I am sure we shall only see his best face today.”

Madame Duval then asked Sarah, “Good miss, stir the
fire, that
the tea-kettle may boil.”

Sarah did as requested.

“You have done it well, now it burns purely. Well, Sarah, you shall have a cheerful husband if you can keep a fire hot for tea.”

“I am not interested in marriage now,” Sarah said as she took the teakettle and poured servings for her two companions.

“Sugar?”
Madame Duval asked.

“Yes,” replied Laura as Sarah said, “No.”

“Cream?”

Again, Laura said, “Yes,” while Sarah said, “No.”

Madame Duval exclaimed with tongue-in-cheek, “Well, Sarah, if you always say no, you will never be married.”

Sarah thought about taking umbrage at her chaperone; but, seeing the woman’s jolly face, she felt the remarks to be only teasing.

A servant stepped in to announce the arrival of Miss Maria Darcy. Madame Duval stood to welcome her guest, “Miss Darcy, it is so good to have you come. You must tell me something about yourself.”

Laura interjected while Maria sat down, “Her brothers call her the Princess of Pemberley.”

Bewildered, Madame Duval asked “I did not realize our guest was royal,” as she began to curtsey.

“Please, no,” Maria laughed. “I am not a princess; only my brothers say so, since they think I am pampered and spoiled.”
             
             
             
             
             

“You know they are right,” Laura continued.

“Why should I care?” Maria replied, “
since
my wants are taken care of, all I need is to marry well.”

“I hope the Marquis is interested in marriage,” Laura said.

“Is he coming to propose today?” Maria asked breathlessly.

“My dear girls,” Madame Duval interrupted, “you must not be so hasty. As
Moliére
says, ‘marriage should only come after a series of adventures. A suitor must first express the finest sentiments. After meeting her, he should keep the loved one in ignorance of his passion but visit her frequently. With each visit, he should pose some question about the passion of love to intrigue the wits of the company. The day of declaration finally arrives and you should banish the suitor from your presence by your refusal. Then, little by little, he returns to repeat the outpouring of his
passion,
and at last draws from us that confession which is such an agony to make. After that, come rivals who try to interfere with the settlement, the persecution of parents, jealousy caused by mutual misunderstanding, despair, abduction and so on.’ That is how these things are managed in best style.”

Laura and Maria began to laugh towards the end of the hostess’ speech and even Sarah could not smother her own mirth.

Regaining her composure, Laura replied, “I like your suggestion, except for the first refusal part. I am afraid I should never be asked again.”

“Ah, you understand not the passion of the strong sex. If it is done in a manner suggesting you are under constraint, it will only lead to a greater display of affection.”

At that moment, a servant announced the Marquis de
Mascarille
. “Show him in,” replied Madame Duval.

The Marquis entered with two men, dressed in black and red livery, trailing him. The Marquis was a young, middle-sized gentleman who was slightly overweight, had hair down to his white collar and was dressed in the finest fashion of the day. He immediately turned and accosted the two servants with him, “Hold, fellows, hold! That was the most jarring carriage ride I have ever had. I think you scoundrels must wish to break my bones.”

The first driver said, “Is this the thanks we get for carrying you from the carriage to the steps?”

“I should say so indeed. Would you have me leave the imprint of my shoes in mud? Go away.”

“Pay us then, Sir.”

“Eh? What?”

“I ask you, Sir, to give us our money, if you please?”

The Marquis then struck the driver lightly with his rod, “How dare you, rascal? Demand money from a man of my rank?”

“Are poor men paid with that? Can we dine off your rank?”

“I will teach you to know your place. As scum, you would dare to bandy words with me?”

The Marquis lifted his rod again, but the second driver stepped forward and pulled out his whip, replying, “Come,
pay
us at once.”

“What?”

“We mean to have our money at once.”

The Marquis looked at the whip and replied, “Well, that is quite reasonable.”

“Be quick about it, then.”

“Now that is the way to talk. But your mate is a rascal who doesn’t know how to negotiate properly. There! Are you satisfied now?”

The second driver replied, “No. I am not. You struck my mate and. . . .” He lifted the whip again.

“Gently!
Gently!”
The Marquis then gave money to the first driver.

“Here is to pay for the blow. A man can get anything from me if he goes about it the right way. Go now, and be sure to come back later to carry me to the Louvre.”