Suspense & Sensibility

'This seems to have been a day of general elucidation.'

— Elinor Dashwood to Colonel Brandon,

Sense and Sensibility, Chapter 30

The whispers began in the theatre lobby. The sounds of conversation and gossip always filled London’s theatres before, after, and even during productions. Rumor and repartee supplied lines that rivaled those of the playwrights, while their speakers paraded in finery as elaborate as any costume. The audience itself — who was there, with whom, speaking to whom — formed as much of the spectacle as props and scenery, and often as much drama took place in the boxes, galleries, and pits as on the stages themselves.

This evening marked the first time, however, that Elizabeth sensed her own party was the subject of the oui-dire that burbled through the theatre. She, Kitty, and Georgiana had taken a private box, and all hoped Miss Bennet would find some distraction from the fact that for three consecutive days, notes of regret instead of Mr. Dashwood himself had arrived at their door. He pleaded indisposition, claiming a disinclination to leave his bed. Elizabeth hoped the malady that kept him away might derive in part from embarrassment over his conduct the last time they had seen him, but she somehow doubted his ability to feel that much shame. Whatever the origin of his present excuse, she wished it swiftly dispatched, as she had seldom known the principals of a love match to spend so comparatively little time together during their engagement as Kitty and Mr. Dashwood had.

They’d arrived at the theatre to find it crowded. Tonight’s comedy had opened the previous week to excellent reviews, so now it was a point of status among the ton to be able to boast of having seen the play before the rest of one’s acquaintance. Elizabeth saw many faces she recognized, and many more she did not. She and her companions greeted those they knew and submitted to the usual small talk about the weather and Beau Brummell’s latest bon mot.

As Elizabeth chatted with Mrs. Farringdale, a neighbor from Longbourn, she experienced an increasing sense of being watched. Surreptitious glances to the side and over Mrs. Far-ringdale’s shoulder revealed that she was not imagining the attention. There were indeed gazes upon her — many gazes that darted away when challenged by her own.

Not until she and the girls climbed the grand columned staircase and entered their box did Elizabeth realize that she owed the notice to Kitty, whose share of it far surpassed her own. Throughout the theatre, furtive glances and open stares accompanied hushed dialogue and sympathetic head shakes. Georgiana was aware of them, too. Kitty held up her chin and did her best to ignore the attention, but something about her had captured the transient interest of the beau monde tonight.

'Lizzy?'

She patted Kitty’s hand as she answered the unspoken question. 'I do not know, Kitty. But I am sure we shall hear it ourselves soon.'

Lord and Lady Chatfield entered their box, separated from the Darcys’ by three others. Elizabeth nodded in greeting at the countess and privately resolved to speak with her during the interval if possible. Perhaps their friends had heard the gossip circulating about Kitty and could enlighten them as to its nature.

At the close of the first act, Elizabeth stated her intention of seeking out the Chatfields and invited the girls to join her. Kitty vacillated. Staying in their box insulated her from having to speak directly with anyone they might encounter in the corridor, but at the same time prominently displayed her to the rumormongers. Georgiana suggested that they two remain together. They would create the appearance of being too engrossed in conversation to notice the twitters, and Kitty would turn toward Georgiana so as to offer most of the house only a profile view of her face. In that posture, though she might still be observed by those who would dissect her every expression for hidden meaning, she at least would not be forced to witness their scrutiny. Kitty gratefully seized upon the solution, and Elizabeth headed off.

She encountered Lady Chatfield in the hallway behind the boxes, the young countess having left hers on the same errand. Her ladyship moved with a natural grace Elizabeth knew she herself could never hope to achieve.

'Mrs. Darcy, I was just coming to bid you good evening.' Her smile at their meeting was genuine, lighting her delicate features. Her eyes, however, betrayed a hint of anxiety. 'Are you and your sisters enjoying the performance?'

'It is diverting,' Elizabeth responded. Similar conversations babbled around them in the busy hallway. 'Though perhaps not quite enough so, tonight.'

The countess drew her toward the wall, where it might be hoped that they could converse unheard. 'You and Miss Bennet have heard the news, then? It must have been a terrible shock to her. I am so terribly sorry.'

Foreboding swept through her. 'No, we have not heard the gossip) — only surmised from everyone’s behavior that it had something to do with Kitty. I hoped perhaps you could tell me what is being said about her.'

'Oh, dear.' Lady Chatfield’s smooth brow wrinkled. 'I do not want to be the bearer of ill tidings.'

'Better for me to hear them from a friend.'

'I suppose so.' They stood near a column that isolated a small pocket of the corridor from the rest. No one else lingered by it, as it would obscure from view anyone so positioned and most of the ton lived to be seen. The countess led her to the column, a move that made Elizabeth’s chest tighten. Whatever she had to impart must be dreadful indeed. After all, everyone else in the theatre had already heard it, so Lady Chatfield sought privacy not to protect the intelligence itself from eavesdroppers, but to protect Elizabeth from being observed during the moment of revelation.

'Mr. Dashwood has taken a mistress.'

Elizabeth was rendered speechless for a moment. When she recovered, she reminded herself that rumor and fact often were not closely acquainted. Her eyes roamed the crowd, seeing not individuals, but a great monster with a small mind and a thousand mouths that fed on innocent people such as her sister in its quest for entertainment and self-aggrandizement. It had seized upon Harry’s recent licentiousness and invented a scandalous tale for its own amusement.

'The report cannot be true. What a horrible falsehood to spread before someone’s wedding!'

The countess appeared more grave than Elizabeth had ever seen her. 'Mrs. Darcy, I’m afraid it is no lie. I learned it this afternoon from my brother Phillip, who had it straight from Mr. Dashwood himself. The gossip started yesterday — rumors of a liaison between Mr. Dashwood and a nameless woman. Phillip took no heed of it when he heard it at the club. But he called upon Mr. Dashwood this morning and found him at breakfast with his paramour.'

'Could not the woman he saw simply have been invited to breakfast?' Such an invitation still raised questions but offered a more palatable explanation than the alternative.

'I understand she was in a state of extreme dishabille.'

'And Mr. Dashwood allowed her to be seen that way by his friend?'

'Phillip said the lady was concerned by their discovery, but Mr. Dashwood was shameless as could be. In fact, he found the whole scene highly amusing.'

Elizabeth’s stomach sickened. Her sister’s fiance had taken a lover. The faithless Harry Dashwood had not only broken his vows before even speaking them, he had flaunted his infidelity before his friend — and, it seemed, before all London. She recalled his recent claim of indisposition, and her discomfort gave way to disgust. Was this how he had occupied himself the past three days? Disinclined to leave his bed, indeed!

'Who is the lady?' Her emphasis on the last word revealed how lightly she used it.

'Phillip did not say, I did not ask, and so far the beau monde does not know. My brother did divulge to me, however, that she is married.'

So Mr. Dashwood had managed to damage someone else’s marriage, to injure another spouse, in addition to his own. No — not his own. A marriage between Harry and her sister now was out of the question. Her heart ached for Kitty.

Around them, the crowd started to file back into the auditorium in anticipation of the second act. She gazed at the entrance to her own box, dreading the conversation she must have with her sister tonight. It would not come until she’d whisked her safely out of this place, but come it must. Mr. Dashwood’s association with their family was ended.