Mr. Darcy's Daughters (3 page)

Fanny’s concern for her appearance was kind. Camilla was too sensible to feel that her whole stay in London would be marred by attending one dinner in a dress not as fashionable as it might be, but she couldn’t help a pang of envy when she saw Letitia’s dress. “It is a family occasion, you know, and I am sure my unfashionable gown will pass unnoticed.”

“I am sure it will not,” said Fanny at once. “The Gardiners are not such fools as to have a mere family dinner when the Miss Darcys are just arrived in town! No, no, Mrs. Gardiner will have invited some men of rank and property and wealth, you may depend upon it. She has caught an excellent
parti
in Wytton for her Sophie, and she married her other two daughters very well, very well indeed when you think their portions were not half so big as Sophie will have. She has her hand in and will have been thinking of likely men for you before ever you left Pemberley.”

Letitia was looking troubled when they went upstairs to dress. “Fanny means to be kind, but I wish she wouldn’t harp so on husbands. I am not looking for any kind of a husband, and Papa and Mama would not at all wish to have you hunting for a husband while you are in London. I am sure they are not in the least concerned that you have not yet met a man you felt you could love, even though you are nineteen. And my case is very different, as you know, for I did know such a man, had fallen in love with him when I was no more than sixteen; in my case, it is of no matter how many eligible men I may meet.”

Camilla’s thoughts were on more mundane matters as she saw how well Sackree had altered her dress under Dawson’s directions. “I raised the bodice just a little, Miss, seeing as how that Dawson says the dress was too low in the waist for present fashion, and apparently no dress can be worn without it has more flounces, so an extra row of lace flounces do you have. There now, I do admit it looks very fine on you.”
Just as fine as Miss Darcy’s dress,
she muttered under her breath as she tweaked the skirt into place. “Here are your satin shoes, and it’s to be supposed you’re taking a carriage tonight and not intending to splash your way there in the mud?”

“Of course we go in the carriage,” said Camilla, turning this way and that to look at her image in the cheval glass. “Thank you, Sackree, and give my thanks to Dawson also.”

“You’ll wear your seed pearls with that dress, Miss; you need a necklace with it being cut so low. And Mrs. Fitzwilliam wants you to go to her room and choose some bracelets to wear. Dawson tells me that no lady stirs out without she has a veritable jingle-jangle all up and down her arms. Mrs. Darcy was right to advise you to choose this shade of green, Miss, it suits your complexion very well. Pale yellows and pinks aren’t the right style for you.”

Whatever your sister may say,
she added to herself as she marched out of the room.

Mr. Gardiner’s chef, one M. Halavant, was famous throughout London for the excellence of his cuisine. The Gardiners’ friends and enemies alike did not scruple to tempt him away to preside over their kitchens, but Halavant was not to be bought. He had been rescued by Mr. Gardiner from the prison into which he had been thrown on suspicion of being a French spy—it was a case of mistaken identity—and his loyalty to Mr. Gardiner thereafter was absolute. Besides, his employer was able to pay him a startlingly high wage, and entertained lavishly enough to allow his chef every opportunity to exercise his culinary genius.

Camilla had to confess herself amazed by her first London dinner party. She was used to dining out at various great houses in the country, but there was a different quality to this gathering. The conversation was quicker and covered a wide range of subjects, and what with the splendour of the dishes and the wine, the glittering silver and crystal of the table settings, the flowers, the army of liveried servants and the magnificence of the women’s silks and jewels, she felt almost light-headed.

Her attention had at once been caught by a guest sitting a little way down the table, next to Mrs. Gardiner. He was a tall, fine-looking man of about thirty-five with a good air and address, and he had a smooth, mobile mouth that suggested a humorous spirit. She thought he looked to be more interesting company than her neighbour, Mr. Wytton, who spoke in monosyllables, gazed a great deal at Sophie and, when Camilla ventured any remark, looked at her with chilling indifference.

The tall man was speaking to Mrs. Gardiner, and, although Camilla was unaware of it, he was asking about her. “She is the second sister, I believe?”

“She is, Sir Sidney. Letitia is the eldest; she is there, talking to Latouche.”

“Very beautiful.” His voice was cool. “There are five daughters, I think?”

“There are three younger girls as well as these.”

“And all heiresses. Darcy has done well for himself; Derbyshire is a good county for landowners. I heard they have found rich mineral deposits on his land.”

“I believe so.”

He turned amused eyes on her. “We cannot all be so fortunate as your husband, Mrs. Gardiner; we do not all have the Midas touch and must rely on our land to bring us what wealth it can.”

“Midas touch! I hope not. Now, that gentleman there, he truly has the ability to make everything he touches turn to gold.”

Sir Sidney Leigh’s gaze drifted over the ruddy-complexioned man sitting across from them, his attention on the lady beside him; from the snatches of conversation that could be heard, they were talking about turtles. “Pagoda Portal,” he said. “Yes, indeed, one of the richest men in England. But is he a happy man, Mrs. Gardiner, can you tell me that?”

Mrs. Gardiner was laughing. “No, he is not, for he is in love with that strange woman, Mrs. Rowan, and she will not have him, however much he is worth.”

“A woman of character, to turn away from such a fortune.”

“She has a fortune of her own, now her husband is dead.”

“Perhaps she cares more for a man’s face than his fortune. One could not describe Portal as a handsome man.”

“You wrong him; he has an amiable appearance; indeed, many women would consider him a well-looking man.”

“That, my dear Mrs. Gardiner, is because a man’s looks are measured by the depth of his pockets.”

“It is not the case, however, with Mrs. Rowan. She only declares she will never submit to the oppressive yoke of marriage again. Her words, not mine, Sir Sidney; I should never describe marriage as oppressive.”

“You would not? I think many men find it so, and women have even more reason to find that what they hoped would be connubial felicity turns out to be a bed of nails.”

Mrs. Gardiner cried out at this. “Shame on you, Sir Sidney, for such cynicism.”

“Let me sit next to your Miss Darcy when we gather for tea. I am well acquainted with her father, you know, and I dare say she will be glad to talk about him. Grave young ladies are always eager to talk about their fathers. Her sister does not look like a woman who wants to talk about her father. I shall leave her to the younger men. She seems to be getting on capitally well with Mr. Layard; I never saw him look so amused.”

“Camilla has a pretty wit.”

“In that case, I’m right to prefer Miss Gravity; the Lord save me from a witty woman.”

“Tell me,” Camilla whispered to Mr. Layard, who was sitting on her other side, “why do they call Mr. Portal, Pagoda Portal? It seems such an extraordinary name.”

“Ah,” he said, “you could not have come to a better person for information. The pagoda, you know, is a gold coin from India. It is so called from its shape, which resembles the leaf of the pagoda tree. Mr. Portal has made an immense fortune in India, and so earned himself this nickname. He has bought land and built himself a fine house, called Pagoda Place—he has a sense of humour, as you can tell—and gone into Parliament. What is surprising about him is that he is a Radical! Now, what do you think of that?”

“Is it not unusual for a rich man to have Radical views?”

“Unusual for any man of sense to have Radical views. I suspect my friend Wytton there of having Radical views; he is always talking about reform, but he denies Radicalism.”

“I should hope so. Are not the Radicals very dangerous? Are they not for ever stirring up riots and disturbances?”

“With Mr. Portal, it is all theory; I believe he draws the line at actual riots. I shall introduce you after dinner; you will like to talk to him about India. He knows a great deal about that country, he’s always prosing on about it, but I dare say you may find it interesting. Ladies are always enchanted by the idea of India.”

The covers were removed and the dessert set on the table. As the servants left the room and the level of conversation rose, she felt she could risk a question without its subject overhearing her. “Has your friend Mr. Wytton been to India?” she asked Mr. Layard. “Mrs. Gardiner tells me he has travelled a good deal.”

“Not to India. He loves best to scramble around the dusty landscapes of Greece and Turkey, and since the end of the war he has been twice to Egypt.”

Her face lit up. “Egypt, how I envy him! But tell me, is he always so terse? Does he not enjoy company?”

“Oh, do not judge him by affairs such as this. It is hard on a man to be engaged, you know; becoming part of a new family, being constantly petted and made much of, is enough to try any fellow’s patience.”

“I hope it is only the engagement that makes him so cross. I would wish Sophie a good-tempered husband.”

“He is never cross with her; why should he be? She does not contradict him or argue with him and has hardly a thought in her pretty head.”

She could not help laughing. “And
that
is what he likes? Perhaps he may get a shock or two once he is married.”

“Never tell me he’s marrying a termagant!”

“I’m sure Sophie is as good-natured as anyone else, but we women, you know, do not usually let our husbands have it all their own way.”

Mr. Wytton, his attention drawn from his other companion by the laughter and liveliness of Camilla and Layard’s conversation, turned to look at them. It must be the effect of visiting Egypt, she thought irreverently, that made his expression so greatly resemble the severe gaze of the Great Sphinx.

Camilla was not unpleased to find herself standing next to Sir Sidney later in the evening as they stood waiting for the tea to be poured. She made some remarks about the company, and he replied with a civil smile and a bow, then made an apology and moved away. A little while later she saw him seated on a sofa, talking to Letty. He must have used some adroitness to be there; Letty’s beauty was attracting a good deal of attention.

Perhaps Letty was right; perhaps she should mind her tongue and mend her ways. She was used to the dull and callow men of her acquaintance sliding away from her with murmured excuses and a look of panic on their faces, but it wasn’t so easy to overlook the fact that a man such as Sir Sidney obviously preferred Letty’s company to hers.

However, she wasn’t self-centred or given to worrying about the impression she made for more than a minute or two, and here was Mr. Portal, full of amiability, perfectly willing to stay by her side and make amusing conversation.

“Come and sit beside me, Miss Camilla, and tell me how you do. Are you liking London?”

“Indeed I am.” Which was the truth, for she was revelling in the sense of freedom that coming to London had given her. She loved her parents, but, oh, it was a joy to be in bustling London, to be meeting so many new people, ordering new and fashionable clothes, hearing Fanny talk of parties and balls, and not to be under Mr. and Mrs. Darcy’s scrutiny.

“Mr. Gardiner is your mother’s uncle, is that not right?”

“It is, and Mrs. Gardiner, who is much of an age with my mother, was always her great friend. She has always been very kind to us, and indeed, we would have stayed here with them if Mrs. Gardiner had not been a trifle indisposed last year. My parents felt it would not be quite convenient for her to have us to stay just at present, what with the activity and confusion attendant upon Sophie’s approaching nuptials.”

Camilla could have added that she had been sorry for this, for she liked the Gardiners, and knew that they liked her. She had more in common with Mr. Gardiner than she had with Mr. Fitzwilliam, to whom it never occurred that a young woman might have views and concerns beyond clothes, beaux and making a good marriage.

And she was aware that, although the Fitzwilliams were on excellent terms with the Gardiners, and Lady Fanny had a warm affection for Mr. Gardiner, Mr. Fitzwilliam was very conscious of the fact that Mr. Gardiner’s great wealth came from trade, a disadvantage somewhat ameliorated by Sophie’s forthcoming match with the highly eligible Wytton.

Here was Mr. Gardiner; having done his duty as host, he now came to join them. After congratulating him on Sophie’s betrothal, Camilla was happy to hear about his recent voyage to Bombay, a city which Pagoda Portal also knew well.

How lucky men were to have such control of their lives, and go off to Bombay or wherever they chose, provided they had the means at their disposal, with never a domestic care to bother them.

Mr. Gardiner laughed when she told him so. “No, no, Camilla, you must not say such things. Why, whatever would we men do if we didn’t have our wives and children and comfortable homes waiting for our return? Women need not despise their role. Indeed, we men would achieve nothing without the love and support of our families; we rely on that, I do assure you.”

A floorboard was slightly loose, and every time Letitia trod on it, it squeaked.

Camilla was not usually affected by the small irritations of daily life. The squeak was not in itself offensive, only she did wish that Letty were less on the fidget. A firm pacing to and fro would have been preferable to these little dashes about the room. However, since Letty was in a fretful mood, it was no doubt inevitable that her body would mirror her agitation. It was a pity, though, that the cause of all this fuss and bother had its existence only in her sister’s head.

Georgina and Belle were expected hourly. They were breaking their journey from Worcestershire at Oxford, where they were to dine and spend the night with friends. Letty’s mind was full of calculations of distances and times; she knew the route by heart and had fixed on all the most likely places for the various disasters certain to overcome her sisters.

“They may be taken ill.”

Camilla looked up from her book, not for the first time. “Who is ill?”

“No one is ill. Georgina and Belle may be taken ill, however.”

“Neither is prone to being affected by the motion of the carriage.”

“One of them could have the headache, or a fever coming on. I thought Belle had lost some of her bloom before we left Pemberley. It is only to be expected; she will feel leaving her home very acutely. She will not be looking forward to London, her sensibility is too delicate for city life.”

Camilla went back to her book. She had no fears for Belle’s health, nor for Georgina’s. They had fallen ill with the usual childhood ailments, had suffered the measles and the chicken pox, had endured heavy colds and passing fevers and bounced themselves back into perfect health in no time at all; their physician in Derbyshire declared them a wonderful advertisement for his skills. It would take more than a coach ride and the prospect of dizzying delights in town to affect their well-being.

Letitia took up her embroidery again, but hadn’t set more than half a dozen neat stitches before she laid it by. “Hark, is that a carriage I hear?”

“Letty, a carriage is to be heard in the square several times an hour. The twins cannot possibly be here yet, not unless they left Oxford before dawn, and why should they do such a thing?” Considering how reluctant Belle and Georgina were to rise at any hour of the morning, this hardly needed to be said.

“However, a wheel may come off the coach, have you thought of that?”

Letty’s flow of irrational fears was interrupted by a servant coming to tell them that a luncheon had been laid in the morning room, and Camilla was spared the effort of a reply. She made quickly for the door; Letty came after her, shaking her head and sighing in a most depressing way and still murmuring about horses going lame, being bitten by horseflies and driven wild, abduction, highwaymen and other improbable dangers.

Fanny was already standing by the table, looking ruffled and pink-cheeked from a romp she had been enjoying with her children. “Little Arthur has another tooth come through, nurse says; such a good boy as he is, it must have hurt and he made no fuss about it at all.”

Camilla was relieved to have a topic of conversation to take Letitia’s mind off the terrible hazards of travel, and they talked energetically about the children, how forward and intelligent they were, and what Charlotte had said to her father only yesterday, how it had made him laugh.

“At any moment now your sisters will be here,” Fanny went on. “How tired they will be after their journey; they will want to rest, I expect. I shall order tea for them; nothing is so refreshing as tea after a long journey.”

“They only come from Oxford today.”

“That is still a way. Forty miles, I am sure it is all of that, and maybe more. No, they will want to rest and be quiet. We dine alone tonight, quite alone,
en famille.
To be sure, Mr. Grandville from the House is invited, and Mrs. Rowan, his sister-in-law—you are sure to like her. We are to be only a small party. Sir Sidney Leigh will be coming also. He called upon me this morning, while you were walking in the square, you know, and I asked him to dine if he had no prior engagement. He is very rich, and they say he is on the lookout for—Well, no matter.”

“Belle and Georgina had better take their meal upstairs with Alethea,” said Letitia. “If they are not so shocked and shaken by their journey as to want to retire straightaway.”

Her sisters shocked and shaken by their journey? Camilla mused as she ate her cold meat. Why, they had never been shocked and shaken by anything. Their seventeen years had been marked by mirth, frivolity, happiness, wilfulness and an inclination to disregard whatever did not suit their way of thinking. How had Letty, even for a moment, conjured this image of frail females? Let alone summoned up the notion of a pair of young ladies obliging enough to eat upstairs with the governess and Alethea when they might dine in company downstairs.

“Since we are to be such a small party, I thought Alethea might join us,” said Fanny. “You have been practising at the pianoforte, Camilla; how much I admire your performance, you shall play for us this evening. And Alethea sings so charmingly. I hear her up there, trilling away like a canary bird.”

“I shall certainly play for you if you wish it,” Camilla said. “Alethea does not always choose to sing in company, but she may be willing to oblige us.”

“What a shame Belle’s harp has not yet arrived from Pemberley. With Georgina accompanying her, they would make such a charming picture, one so dark and one so amazingly fair. If they have lost that slight plumpness they had, which is only natural for young girls, I warrant they are grown into very pretty young women.”

“You shall judge for yourself,” Camilla said, catching the sound of a coach drawing up outside. “Here they are!”

The front door was opening. There was a hubbub in the street in front of the house as a groom came running out to take the horses’ heads, the coachman and the manservant exchanged words about the journey and the cursed London streets, passers-by stopped to look at the fine equipage, servants came spilling down the steps to take in bandboxes and unstrap the trunks.

Within, the hall was full of voices raised in excited greetings and exclamations. Alethea hung over the rail on the top landing and added to the noise by calling down in her powerful voice, while Letitia was letting out cries of relief upon discovering that her sisters had reached London with the regular number of legs and arms, quite intact, no blows to the head, no urgent need for the apothecary or physician.

Among the melee of girls and servants and bandboxes, Camilla spied a strange young man with a fine head of Byronic curls, who was standing in the hall, holding a cross, vociferous and tiny pug dog in his arms. He seemed bemused by the uproar, but otherwise perfectly self-possessed.

“Georgie, Georgie,” she called. “Who is this?”

Georgina left off hugging Letty and looked round. “Lord! Pug, I forgot all about him, didn’t I, my little precious?” She flew at the young man and snatched the dog away, ignoring the animal’s snarls of protest. “Isn’t he the sweetest thing imaginable? They have a bitch who whelped quite recently, you know, and we begged to bring this dear little dog with us. We thought Cousin Fanny would so like a pug!”

The wriggling, indignant little bundle was thrust into Fanny’s arms, where it lay wheezing and panting, giving the tip of her nose the occasional lick.

“Oh, well, to be sure,” Fanny said, dismayed, but word had spread and her two eldest children were beside her, tugging at her skirts and begging to be allowed to hold the pug.

“I’ll see to the dog,” said Dawson, her maid, appearing suddenly from nowhere. In a trice the pug, quietened at once, was tucked under her arm. “You’ll be wanting to take the young ladies out of the hall.”

Recalled to her duties, Fanny kissed her cousins, told them they were very welcome, declared that they were grown so pretty she would hardly have known them and glanced questioningly at the young man, who looked as though he would like to make a rapid getaway. “Georgina, Isabelle, who is this?”

The twins looked around as though expecting to find another pug lurking among the baskets. “Oh, it is only Mr. Roper,” said Isabelle.

Camilla was genuinely pleased to see her sisters, although she always forgot, when they weren’t there, what a noise and a stir they made wherever they went. It wasn’t that their voices were loud or unpleasant, nor that they were vigorous or clumsy in their movements. Belle tended to languid, flustering gestures that suited her extreme fairness and fragile looks; Georgina, with her shining black hair and dramatic presence, was no more boisterous, yet there was always a feeling of electricity in the air when they were in a room together.

“Those eyes,” Fanny was saying in an aside to Letitia. “One angelically fair, one intensely dark, and both of them with those great violet eyes. Lord, how I envy them their eyes. The gentlemen will be wild when they see them; what an impression they will make.”

“It is kind of you to say so,” said Letitia, alarmed. “Remember, Fanny, they will be in the schoolroom; there is no question of any gentlemen.”

The two pairs of violet eyes were turned on her, full of reproach. “Letty, how can you be so unkind?”

“If we do not go about while we are in London now, who knows when we may ever have the chance again?”

“We mean to go to all the plays and dance the nights away.”

“Dance! Indeed, you shall not dance. You are not out. I am not married, nor is Camilla.”

“Well, I suppose Camilla may manage to find herself a husband if she guards her tongue and doesn’t continue to laugh at all the men, but since you swear you mean to die an old maid, there’s no hope for us, not if we have to wait for you to marry.”

“It’s so unfair.” Georgina turned to Fanny for support. “Cousin, don’t you think it unfair? We’re seventeen, we have friends of just our age who have been married these twelve months and more.”

“If you do not behave, I shall write directly to Papa,” said Letitia.

Belle’s mouth drooped, and Georgina fixed her eldest sister with a hard stare.

Camilla knew who would win this engagement. Out of reach of their formidable papa, the twins were sure to have their way—Fanny was clearly entranced by them. Meanwhile, Letty would become more and more disagreeable, would scold and criticise them, the twins would sulk, the household would be set all to pieces.

“So here you are, all five of you sisters together once more.” Fanny was spilling words into the frigid silence. “I know how close you are; you will be so happy with one another’s company.”

Had Fanny been in earnest when she spoke about finding a hussar to console Letty? As things were, it would be a relief for her interests and affections to take a new direction. Although were a dashing cavalry officer to appear in his red coat, ten to one Belle or Georgina would snatch him away.

Camilla might relish her own freedom from parental supervision, but just now she felt a real sense of regret at her parents’ absence, unable to imagine how, without their guidance and control, they were to deal with Georgina and Belle. In only a few days away from their family, as they had felt the lessening of restraint, her sisters had changed in some indefinable way. Her father should not have gone away just now, nor should her mother; that was what came of their being so devoted a couple and of her father having such a strong sense of duty. And they were to be away for so many months!

A year or so ago, and the twins would have been safely in the schoolroom. Two or three years hence, they would be married and beyond their family’s responsibility. Now, however, here they were: beautiful, heedless and ripe for every kind of wildness.

Letty, who had not a trace of wildness in her makeup, refused to see it, considering that a firm hand—her firm hand—was all that was needed to keep them within the bounds of acceptable behaviour. Camilla did not appreciate the mischief that Belle and Georgina’s high spirits might lead them into, especially when those high spirits were coupled with their glowing good looks and undeniable charm.

Belle was giving her a radiant smile. “Camilla, why are you so serious? Are you not pleased to see us?” She skipped across the room and put her arm round her waist. “We are so pleased to see you, and to be all together again, aren’t we, Georgie? Such fun to be in London. Have you ever been to Oxford, Camilla? It is an astonishing place, for you must know the streets are full of young men. Very young men, for the most part, but we saw some handsome faces, and then, there are so many of them! You can imagine nothing more delightful.”

Camilla could, easily. She returned her sister’s hug with affection, but said, “You will have to behave, you and Georgie, for you don’t wish to sound like country bumpkins come to town. Young ladies in society, you know, are moderate in their praise of men.”

“Oh, what an old maid you sound, and you only nineteen,” exclaimed Georgina.

“Tell me why Mr. Roper is here,” Camilla said, lowering her voice.

“Lord, we had forgotten him in all the excitement. He has been in Oxford over some matter connected with his younger brother, who is at Magdalen College or some such place, and we offered to bring him to London. He has such news, and I can tell you haven’t heard, for otherwise Letty would not be so calm; indeed, it is going to shock you all most dreadfully, you had best call for your smelling salts directly.”

“Let him tell them, let Mr. Roper tell his news,” cried Belle. “It is about a man we all know. It is about Tom, Tom Busby, Letty’s Tom, for you must know that he and Mr. Roper were schoolfellows at Westminster and were very well acquainted.”

“Winchester, in fact,” put in Mr. Roper diffidently.

“It is all the same,” said Belle. “Oh, he has such a story to tell, I swear you will none of you believe it. For, not two weeks ago, he was—”

“No, no,” interrupted Georgina. “Mr. Roper must speak, for he has every particular; how we cried out when he told us, and then we laughed, very heartily, for it is all so strange.”

Mr. Roper tugged at his neck cloth, lifted his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “It is like this,” he began.