“And faster without you fanning the flames.”
Fitzwilliam held up both hands in a show of acquiescence. They had reached the door to Darcy’s box, and they waited for Hague and Wallace to go in ahead of them. Darcy gestured for his cousin to follow next, but Fitzwilliam hesitated.
“You know, if you truly want to convince people that you are not enamoured with her, you might consider not staring at her quite so voraciously.”
“I was not staring at her at all.”
“Had you stared any harder, her uncle would have been obliged to call you out.”
Darcy said nothing, instead striding past Fitzwilliam into the box and taking his seat. He gave up searching the auditorium for Bingley when he heard Hague whisper to Wallace that he thought he must be looking for Elizabeth.After that, he kept his gaze fixed on the stage and left at the end of the night without another glimpse of Elizabeth, her mother, or Charles bloody Bingley.
15
A MOST CONSPICUOUS CUP OF TEA
Mrs Randall cursed when Elizabeth marched into her parlour. She was standing on the hearth with the back of her skirt hitched up, warming her buttocks before the flames, and made no move to cease doing so. “You are incorrigible.”
“I am,” Elizabeth replied, striving to sound firm, though her heart was racing at her own impudence, having forced her way uninvited into somebody’s home.
The maid came bustling through the door behind her. “Beggin’ your pardon ma’am! She wouldn’t take no for an answer!”
“’Tis well, Maggie. I am familiar with Miss Bennet’s obstinacy.” Mrs Randall cast a peevish look at Elizabeth. “Although I thought to have seen the last of it.”
“Iamsorry, Mrs Randall, but it is imperative that I speak to my mother, and I wished to ensure she was not hiding from me as she was the last time you assured me she was out.”
“Should you like to look under the beds? In the closets? Perhaps an inspection of the attic would convince you she is not here.”
“I am at a loss to know where she is, then, for neither is she at home.”
After her trip to the theatre, Elizabeth had been loath to visit Henrietta Street again lest it rouse anyone’s suspicions and had instead written to her father to ask whether her mother was at Longbourn. This morning, she had received his reply.
It is entirely possible that the woman you saw at Covent Garden on Monday evening was your mother, for wherever she is, it is not here. In case the Gardiners should hear from your sisters that Mrs Bennet is not at home, I have been obliged to tell the lie that she has become ill herself from tending to Mrs Randall and has gone to Eastbourne with a nurse to recuperate. It ought to defer any questions for a few weeks. Beyond that, I cannot be confident of keeping this quiet.
Honouring her father’s wish for secrecy, Elizabeth had waited for her aunt and sister to go out and then come on foot to Mrs Randall’s house, leaving word that she had gone for a walk. The whole deceitful pretence had left her disappointed and angry.
“Am I to assume she has been kidnapped?” she demanded. “Ought I to be worried that she is lying injured in a ditch somewhere betwixt here and Longbourn?”
Mrs Randall dropped her skirts and turned to preen herself in the mirror over the mantelpiece, pinching her cheeks and poking at her hair. “I did not say she was not still my guest. I said she was not here. And neither should you be, for I have a friend arriving at any moment.”
Elizabeth felt herself redden. “Mr Bradshaw?”
Mrs Randall raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror. “You would do well to learn some of your mother’s discretion.”
A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Elizabeth’s lips before she could prevent it, but she did not trouble herself to argue the point. “Pray, tell me where she is, and I shall leave directly.”
“I see that I shall have no peace until I do. Very well. She is meeting a friend at Gunter’s.”
“What friend?”
“I cannot recall. Maggie will see you out.”
Under pressure to go, it occurred to Elizabeth that she had no idea how to get to Gunter’s tea shop and no chaperon to attend her. “About Maggie… I wonder, if you are due to be occupied with a visitor, whether you might be able to spare her for an hour, to show me the way?”
She did not truly expect it to work, but the promise of a hot drink upon arrival was enough to persuade the maid of the scheme, and after that, Mrs Randall’s impatience for Elizabeth to be gone outweighed any desire she might have had to object. The pair set out towards Mayfair.
Elizabeth tried every which wayen routeto elicit information from Maggie about her mother, but she was either an extraordinary liar, or she had genuinely paid no attention whatsoever to her mistress’s houseguest over the last month, for she had nothing of any interest to report. Elizabeth gave up when they arrived in Berkeley Square—a handsome area with a park in the centre and some of the finest houses Elizabeth had seen anywhere in London surrounding it. She had not expected the tea shop to be busy, given the time of year, but there were plenty of people standing about inside and out. Several more were perched in open carriages on the other side of the road, wrapped in blankets as they enjoyed their treats under the trees—or tried to. One of the carriages held a party of four, a very young girl among them, who was screaming blue murder to the obvious disapproval of everyone else, her parents unable to settle her.
“Look, Maggie, she has dropped her toy over the side.” Elizabeth hastened across the road and picked it up. “I beg your pardon,” she said, reaching up to hand it back. “I believe the young lady dropped this.”
