gardenias as accessories for the formal ensembles for the ball.
Eliza found Lucy by her side as she explored the farther reaches of the glassed enclosure.
“Are you interested in flowers?” she asked, attempting to strike up a conversation.
“Our conservatory at Langston Court is one of Mama’s great pleasures,” said Lucy. “It is not as large as this. Mama teaches me a great deal. And McTavish, our gardener, is my friend. He says I stay still and don’t fratter, as my brothers do.”
“I know more about insects than plants,” confessed Eliza. “But the two go together. Some flowers are more attractive to butterflies than others. My brother Jonathan is a naturalist.”
“It was he, I think, I met in the hall? There was no time to speak...” Lucy remembered a pair of gray eyes and a friendly, admiring glance as she mounted the stairs.
“Yes, he is my dear friend. He is so kind to me,” said Eliza. “I missed him very much when he was away at Cambridge. And soon he is taking a post in London with the Royal Society. It is exactly the thing for him, Mama says; she is very pleased. But home will be empty without him.”
“How nice for you to have a close friend among your family. I have no sisters, and my brothers are much younger, ten and eight. Sometimes we play, but they are so boisterous. They rush around and fight and make a great deal of noise.”
They had circled the conservatory and drawn near to the rest of the party. Miss Bingley was once again one of the group, and Lucy drew back a little, behind Eliza. But to no avail.
“There you are, Lucy. So hard to find! I was wondering where you could be. But I am always glad to take the trouble. Don’t you think it would be better if you rested on your bed? Such a tiring journey!”
“I am very well, thank you, Miss Bingley, not tired at all,” said Lucy, looking despairingly at Eliza.
Eliza had just been noticing a perfect spider web filling a windowpane next to the open door leading out to the terrace. Miss Bingley was quite close to that window. Eliza glanced at her tight-lipped face, thin corded neck, and over-ornamented dress.
“Only see,” she said now, pointing out the web to whomever was interested. “One seldom finds a web so perfect. It’s as intricate as a lace handkerchief.”
Her sleeve brushed the web, and the spider rushed out of hiding. It was fat-bodied, gingerish in color, quite large, and very leggy. Miss Bingley stepped hurriedly back behind the other girls, her hand at her heart. Juliet gave a small scream.
“Oh, how dreadful. Do come away. I must tell Cameron to kill it.”
“Oh, no, please don’t!” cried Eliza. “Spiders do so much good in a conservatory. They help keep down whitefly and mosquitoes and other egg-laying pests, Jonathan says. I think insects are fascinating. Do look, Lucy.” She managed to ease Lucy in front of her, closer to the door, pleased to see the other girl seemed quite unafraid.
“Are you interested in natural history?” asked Amabel Bingley, polite but uncomprehending.
“Jonathan teaches me. He is friendly with a young man named Darwin, Charles Darwin. They met at Cambridge. Mr. Darwin sailed as naturalist on the H.M.S. Beagle. They made a scientific survey.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, but anyone knowing her well would have caught the mischievous twinkle in her eye. Eliza had long ago learned that it was helpful to know just how people reacted to insects.
“Oh,” said Juliet.
“How interesting,” said Amabel.
Their eyes met. There seemed nothing else to say in response to such an odd preference. Amabel began to talk about her sister’s house in London, where there was a small orangery. Miss Bingley was still at the rear of the group, and Eliza took Lucy’s hand and led her out of the door onto the terrace. A cool breeze caressed her flushed face and fluttered her curls, and she sighed with relief.
“Do you know the way to the stables?” she asked her new friend, hurrying her away from the door.
Chapter Seven
The rain continued the whole evening without intermission...
“I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in
driving away love!”
Sunset was not due until after eight o’clock but, by early evening, clouds had gathered and the sky was overcast. A wind got up and tousled the leafy canopy of the great trees in the park. The rooks rose cawing from the rookery and were tossed like ragged black handkerchiefs over the wood. Rain splattered against the windowpanes and fizzled on the still-hot terrace paving stones.There was a distant grumble of thunder.
Juliet, who had completed the day in a state of high excitement, plunged at once into despair, lingering on the window seat and counting out loud the ever-increasing raindrops.
“It is only a summer storm,” soothed her mother. “Quick to come and quick to go. You will see, my darling. It will soon blow over.”
“
...quoted Henry.
“Oh, Henry, you are always so provoking.Why must you tease with your horrid poetry? You must know I am thinking of our guests tomorrow—those who come some distance—from London.”
“
...chanted Henry. He had not been happy with Juliet’s behavior that afternoon.
Eliza glanced at Juliet’s flushed and petulant face, and thought it wise to complete the stanza:
Then she smiled at Henry. “Mr.Wordsworth enjoys his gloomy downpours, but he soon brings out the sun again.”
“How well read you young people are,” said Elizabeth. “Juliet, don’t let Henry depress you with gloomy poetry. Surely you remember some of the happy ones? I am sure dear Miss Underwood (Juliet’s governess for many years, Charlotte—a very worthy woman) must have instilled some into you. How about:
But Juliet was thinking of Gerard Churchill, rain darkening his fair hair and dripping off his highly polished boots, gallantly riding through the storm in his scarlet regimentals. Her face stayed as downcast as the weather. Luckily the dinner gong sounded at that moment, supplying a welcome distraction.
Dinner was served in the small dining room.
The following night, Jonathan whispered to Eliza, dinner would be served in the grand dining room. There would be fifty guests to dinner. Jonathan had been luckier than his sister. He had renewed his acquaintance with Henry and had made a tour of the house as well as the outbuildings, and accumulated a vast store of interesting information.
The Collinses were seated toward the center of the table. Charlotte pleasantly renewed her acquaintance with Mr. Bingley. Eliza was seated between Torquil Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy’s steward, Mr. Longacre, neither of whom paid her much attention: Torquil was teasing Juliet about a mutual London acquaintance, Mr. Longacre, a taciturn and weatherbeaten man, was interested in his dinner. Eliza employed her time in watching Mr. Darcy, at the head of the table, so handsome and so serious, and Mrs. Darcy, at the foot, so vivacious. She found them both
