Elizabeth began to suspect what was truly at play. Miss de Bourgh feared her cousin would think less of her for having been similarly deprived of what he considered refined society.
She seeks to comfort herself by undervaluing me.It might have rankled had Elizabeth cared for Mr Darcy’s good opinion. As it was, she pitied Miss de Bourgh for being made to feel as though her intended thought ill of her. She had no great fondness for him, but it was unfair that Mr Darcy should be in disfavour with his future wife for something he had not said.
“That is as may be, but whether or not that is Mr Darcy’s true opinion, in this instance, it really is not what he said. I had remarked that I like to study people’s characters. He merely observed that there was a greater variety of people to study in London than in the country.”
“I see.”
Elizabeth could not tell from Miss de Bourgh’s countenance whether she was convinced. “Truly,” she insisted, “he was not in any way disdainful.”On that occasion,she did not add aloud.
Rather than appearing any more persuaded, Miss de Bourgh merely began to look vexed.
Elizabeth had begun, however, and thought she might as well finish the job. “I assure you my mother’s indignation was not Mr Darcy’s fault. Once she takes a dislike to somebody, she does not easily shake it off. Mama was determined to take offence, and when she thought she saw an opportunity, she took him to task directly.”
“For what reason was your mother determined to be offended by Darcy? Had he insulted her in some other way before this…”
Miss de Bourgh’s voice faded, replaced by Mr Darcy’s, as Elizabeth recalled him telling her that his good opinion once lost was lost forever. She had ridiculed him for admitting as much, but in retrospect, it was no different from the implacable resentment she had just attributed to her mother without censure. She twisted her mouth in chagrin to have caught herself exercising such contrasting principles. She might even have felt guilty had she not presently been engaged in saving him from the ire of his betrothed. That was surely enough to compensate for one captious remark.
“Miss Elizabeth?”
“I beg your pardon. What was that?”
“I asked what else my cousin did to earn your mother’s disapprobation?”
Elizabeth smiled wryly. She may not have been her mother’s favourite, but Mrs Bennet did not suffer criticism of any of her daughters from anyoneother than herself. That Mr Darcy had spurned Elizabeth’s looks and refused to dance with her upon first making her acquaintance had set him firmly in her mother’s bad books from the start. She did not explain that, however. Despite having laughed about it often enough, Elizabeth found herself strangely averse to divulging his slight to Miss de Bourgh.
“They merely got off on the wrong foot,” she said instead. “I am not aware that Mr Darcy was ever directly uncivil to her. Indeed, I believe he was the recipient of rather more of my mother’s spleen than she was of his.”
Miss de Bourgh looked taken aback. “How did my cousin act? He is not known for suffering fools.”
Overlooking the insult to her mother, largely because it could not easily be contended, Elizabeth replied, “Nothing, except to treat her to some of hiscompanionable silenceuntil she gave up arguing with herself and went home.”
Miss de Bourgh laughed, then observably stopped herself and scowled instead. “A woman ought to try not to be handsomeandwitty, Miss Elizabeth. She will get a reputation for being greedy.”
Elizabeth closed her mouth on her first response and, after a moment, replied, “Thank you for the advice. I shall bear it in mind.”
“Oh! Is Wickham coming?” Lydia shrieked from across the room, saving either of them from saying any more.
“They are all coming, my dear,” replied Lady Lucas. “Even Colonel Forster.”
“What is this?” Elizabeth asked of Kitty, sitting nearest to her.
“Lady Lucas says Sir William has invited the officers to join us for supper.”
“Will there be cards?” Lydia enquired of no one in particular, veritably bouncing in her seat. “And dancing? Please let us have some dancing. I have not danced with Wickham since we were at Mrs Long’s last week.”
“Wickham?” Miss de Bourgh said. “I know that name. Who is he?”
“He is the late Mr Darcy’s godson. His father was Pemberley’s steward.” Elizabeth wondered whether they were acquainted. Did Miss de Bourgh know that Mr Darcy had refused to honour his father’s will, refused to give Mr Wickham the living he was promised? Would she be as disdainful of Mr Wickham’s straitened circumstances as her cousin had been? Elizabeth could scarcely keep her countenance as she watched Miss de Bourgh for any sign of recognition.
“Oh yes,” she said presently, her brow creasing faintly. “I vaguely recall that Mr Darcy used to fish with him.”
“You know him, then?”
“I knowofhim. I did not fish with them, if that is what you are implying.”
Elizabeth longed to ask more but dared not. “I do not believetheyfish together anymore,” was as much as she would venture.
The next hour passed interminably slowly as Elizabeth awaited the officers’ arrival. She was pleased for the opportunity to see Mr Wickham, for he was exceptionally good company, but she hoped he would not be distressed by Miss de Bourgh’s presence.
