Raul charmed all the available women, and many of those who are not. That man is far too handsome for his own good! Not to mention being a royal—you know that's why I call him Raja, to his annoyance. It was requisite for me to play down his assets, so to speak, to avoid a matrimonial plot by Elizabeth's mother. I find myself curious as to what part she may have had to play in her eldest daughters wooing such eligible bachelors. No insult intended, as both Elizabeth and Jane are excellent ladies; however, their class is clearly not equal to a Darcy. Not that I ever attributed much worth to that nonsense, but it is the world we live in. Perhaps Mrs. Bennet played no part as both men are clearly smitten with their wives, but she is the type, and I have witnessed such manipulations dozens of time. More history for me to unravel. Yes, I know, Jharna, I am a busybody.
Day two was spent in the company of Malcolm. He dragged Raja and me to White's for an afternoon of debauchery and indolence. I recognized a few faces, but the truth is my years of studying in London did not allow for leisure time, nor was I one to overly hobnob with society. I could have participated more, naturally, being a Darcy, but was looked at askance for my chosen study. I was not of the Cambridge or Oxford elite, nor did I care to be, so it created a mild stigma. No one knew quite how to deal with me, and since I was never interested in another's opinion, it was easier to avoid it all. I sensed some of the same hesitation at White's. I am still a Darcy and in the company of Lord Matlock, so cannot be shunned. Yet I am also a mere doctor wearing strange clothing and toting a Spaniard in my wake! I doubt even listing Raja's pedigree would have helped! Ah well, we had a delightful time nonetheless, the liquor as excellent as always and billiard room elegant.
The remainder of the evening has been lazy. The loving couple had a prior engagement, so Raja and I stayed with the girls. Georgie's pianoforte skills have improved dramatically since I was last here. She is quite proficient. What a shame that women cannot freely pursue careers in the arts. It has never made much sense to me that our culture expects an accomplished woman to play an array of instruments, speak and read several languages, paint and draw, be expert in all methods of needlepoint, yet do nothing with any of it beyond amuse themselves and their inner circle. I can speak several tongues, having inherited that gift from my mother, but cannot play a single instrument, cannot draw beyond vague sketches of bodily parts, and can only wield a needle when sewing flesh, yet I am considered a more valued member of society! I personally think all men should be forced to observe a woman in childbirth. That would make them think twice about the weaker sex!
Rambling again. Forgive me, my faithful journal! So, here I now am reposing in my luxurious chambers at Darcy House. I am content to be home, quite delighted to be on holiday with minimal expectations on my person, not yet feeling guilty for leeching off my nephew's kindness, experiencing an odd mixture of lethargy and exuberance, sipping a fine glass of whiskey, and doing nothing more laborious then putting quill to parchment. Or rather, steel-tipped pen to parchment. Amazing invention! William seems to have inherited a curiosity of modern innovations and mechanical gadgetry from my father. I wonder if William remembers his grandfather's obsession for science and machinery? After all, the majority of the Pemberley fountains and equipment are of his designing. I shall add that to my list of topics to discuss with my nephew. For now, staring at the fire and early to bed are the only agenda items. Good night, lovely Jharna, wherever you are.
Spent the day trudging through the haberdasheries of Bond Street with Raul. I am exhausted! How do the ladies do this day in and day out? Boggles my mind. Anyway, Raja, noble instincts rising to the fore, decided he required a completely new wardrobe of latest English fashion. So, yesterday he inquires of William as to the best places to shop. William jumps up with unveiled enthusiasm, proceeding to jot down the finest establishments London has to offer. Raja is flushed with happiness, eyeballing William's impeccably clad figure with obvious hankering. William, while ostensibly addressing Raja, is glancing pointedly toward me and offering graciously to arrange an appointment with Mr. Renault, his personal tailor. Elizabeth met my raised eyebrow with a barely hidden laugh. Her face is so expressive!
Oddly, that particular afternoon I was wearing my most demure salwar kameez, the beige one with turquoise trim. He should be thankful I left all my dhotis behind in India! Even I did not think the English public prepared to view my legs unbound by trousers. Nevertheless, I suppose there is a logical point to my nephew's unspoken plea. All the English suits I own are woefully outdated and threadbare. I imagine there may be the occasional soiree or festivity where a proper suit will be necessary. So, alas, I did the unthinkable and allowed Raja to drag me from shop to shop, endured two hours of measuring and clucking tongues from Mr. Renault's assistants. Raja nearly bought out each establishment, any initial contempt expressed at his dark skin and accent rapidly evaporated by the wad of cash displayed. I, on the other hand, purchased lightly, acquiring only four suits and sundry accoutrements. How I will ever survive a choking cravat is frankly beyond my comprehension. Ah, the extents we will go to for love of family!
Raul and I reported to Company headquarters, signed the obligatory documents, and spoke with the Director (a Mr. Allison now). He was not too pleased that we refused to give a definite date for our reenlistment, or even if we will. Apparently Raja's reputation has preceded him, with his services in prime demand. This thrills me, not only because I trained him but because his skills truly are astounding and I am delighted to see this recognized. I was a bit surprised that Raja demurred regarding his conscription, he having not alluded to any uncertainty in his future. I chose to leave the subject alone for the moment, Raul mature enough to make his own choices. Whatever his decisions for the future, I am confident he will do well.
Met William and Col. Fitzwilliam for luncheon and spirits at Estad's Saloon. I cannot believe the eatery is still standing. I remember the first time I ate there: I was thirteen, still mourning Alex, and Father decided to treat me to a gentleman's outing as a way of cheering my gloominess. Additionally he thought that I was finally capable of playing the part of a gentleman. Ha! So Pearson, James's valet, dressed me in my Sunday finery complete with pocketwatch and fancy fob as well as a walking stick that I dearly wanted to wave about and poke people with, but resisted the urge! The simple fear of what my father would do to me not worth the fun I might have had. Anyway, James was in his final year at Cambridge, joining us for a few weeks while in Town for the season, and I recall that I did feel vainly dashing and arrogantly mature squired about with my distinguished father and dandified older brother. I honestly do not recollect the food served, but the atmosphere was awe inspiring to a thirteen-year-old. James acted all sophisticated and snobbish while winking at me when Father was not looking. Yes, fun times.
Of course, I have since dined at Estad's many times, although it has been a few years. Impeccable and delicious as ever. Delightful afternoon, especially as with just the four of us I had my first real opportunity to communicate intimately with my nephew. We were there for hours, sipping excellent red wine from France and engaging in lively discourse. Naturally we were approached by a dozen fellow diners who knew William. He departed the establishment with four additional commitments to the already busy schedule of him and Elizabeth. I only knew Lord and Lady Standish. He was a crony of James's who visited Pemberley a time or two with his wife; she was a dear friend of Anne's. We spent a few minutes reminiscing.
This evening William and Elizabeth have a planned engagement at the Countess von Lieven's salon. To my incredible shock, an invitation arrived yesterday for Raja and me. I suppose I should not be too surprised by the infamous Countess knowing all that goes on in the city, but why she would extend an invite to two traveling physicians is beyond my comprehension. Nevertheless, even I would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to meet the famous woman herself, so Raja and I will attend.
Been a couple busy days. First I must describe the evening at Countess von Lieven's salon. I contemplated wearing one of my new suits, but decided that if it was exotic foreign gentlemen the Countess wanted, then so be it! Yet to compromise and not embarrass my formal nephew, I wore my finest sherwani of grey wool. I figured that if it was acceptable for official British East India Company affairs, then it should serve. I even topped it off with matching fez, quite dashing if I say so myself. I know you would have appreciated it, Jharna, as it was the outfit you gifted to me on my fiftieth birthday. Of course, I do think it was primarily out of your desire to see me properly attired for one of your father's ceremonies! I digress, however.
The Lieven mansion on St. James's Place was stupendous, as expected. All the lights were lit, some, to my
