“What did you discuss?”
“Goodness, I can scarcely recall,” Elizabeth lied. In fact, she could remember almost every one of their exchanges, for most had left her either laughing or fuming for hours afterwards. She recalled, with perfect clarity, questioning his vanity and pride, his opinion of Mr Bingley’s character, his treatment of Mr Wickham, and his opinion of what constitutes an accomplished woman. On reflection, almost every interaction had centred upon a challenge to his integrity. Elizabeth rebuffed a twinge of guilt, certain that Mr Darcy’s conceit was more than robust enough to withstand the scrutiny. “It was just general chatter.”
“I doubt that. My cousin does notchatter.”
“No, I suppose he does not. Very well, I believe we had debates and the like. The usual sort of discussions one has over breakfast and dinner and coffee.”
“So, actually, you had plenty of conversations with him.”
Elizabeth sighed. If all Mr Darcy’s relations were this supercilious, she did not wonder at his having turned out proud and disagreeable. It was not behaviour conducive to cordiality.
“Hardly. On the last day I was there, he all but ignored me.”
Miss de Bourgh looked distinctly unimpressed. “Was that before or after he asked you to dance?”
“Both, strictly speaking,” she replied testily, for she was growing increasingly tired of being interrogated. “He asked me to dance three times, though one was only a tease, and I only agreed once.”
She was rewarded with a venomous look but was denied any further response when a pheasant dashed into their path, and Miss de Bourgh was forced to pull the horse violently to one side to avoid it. Mrs Jenkinson let out a terrified squawk. Elizabeth clutched at the seat and held her breath until the gig righted itself, which it only did thanks to some impressively quick-witted and calm manoeuvring on Miss de Bourgh’s part.
“That was very well done,” Elizabeth said breathily.
“I do try to avoid the pheasants in particular. I like their iridescent plumage.”
Rather unfairly, the admission of such a simple, honest enjoyment of wildlife surprised Elizabeth. It disposed her to be a little less guarded.
“May I ask why it matters what I talked about with your cousin?” she enquired in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone.
If the question startled her, Miss de Bourgh disguised it well. “By your own edict, we must discusssomething.Would you rather we discussedyourcousin?”
“Not really.”
“I thought not. Mine is infinitely more interesting and worldly. I am not surprised you felt you had little to discuss with him. His knowledge no doubt far exceeds yours.”
“Yes, I expect it far exceedseverybody’swho hardly ever leaves the place in which they grew up.”
Miss de Bourgh pinched her lips together, and her nostrils flared. “My health might have prevented extensive travel, butI, at least, had a governess. I am able to engage with my cousin on many subjects.”
“I do not doubt it, madam,” Elizabeth replied coolly, “though I believe I just about managed to make myself understood.”
“What a relief! But then, Darcy is very generous and will only have engaged you in discussions on which he could be sure you would be able to comprehend him.”
“If you mean that Mr Darcy only disagreed with everything I said because he thought I had the wit to match him, then I suppose I ought to be flattered that he did nothingbutargue with me.”
“Except when he didnotargue with you and was silent, but that did not please you either, did it? I think it is a very good thing he has left Hertfordshire. You are obviously horribly unsuited as acquaintances and best kept out of each other’s way.”
“I could not agree more,” Elizabeth replied, though she heard less vehemence in her voice than had been in her thoughts.
Miss de Bourgh let out a long breath, her shoulders dropped, and she turned to Elizabeth with a small but satisfied smile. And there, hidden behind the pallor and the perennially dissatisfied hauteur, was her loveliness. And there, too, was the familial resemblance.
Elizabeth looked away swiftly, unsettled that only in Miss de Bourgh’s handsomeness could she see Mr Darcy. She was inordinately pleased when they bounced over a deep rut, and Mrs Jenkinson let out another yelp, for it gave her the excuse to insist upon being allowed to walk the rest of the way to let the poor woman ride in comfort.
Miss de Bourgh consented with a haste that made her insistence upon driving Elizabeth home in the first place seem utterly absurd. She turned the gig with enviable skill, waited barely long enough for her companion to scramble into the seat next to her, and departed without a word of farewell.
Elizabeth shook her head in bewilderment and set out for home, pitying Charlotte a lifetime in servitude to such a woman.
* * *
The next morning brought an invitation from Lady Lucas, an icy drizzle, and a dismal pall over Longbourn. Mrs Bennet passed the chief of the day flouncing from room to room in search of an audience for her complaints.
