Darcy turned up his nose. “She will combust regardless when she realises I am truly not marrying Anne.”
Cunningham set his glass aside and pushed himself to his feet. “Now there is a marriage a man would quickly come to regret!” He strode to the cue rack and selected one, enumerating, as he did so, the countless reasons why neither Darcy, he, nor Fitzwilliam should ever shackle themselves to their cousin.
A game of billiards was begun and the subject of Elizabeth dropped. That did not stop Darcy thinking about her. He abhorred that Elizabeth and he were being gossiped into an understanding in the minds of theton, but having utterly failed to master his feelings for her, and with his cousin’s talk of society’s admiration ringing in his mind, he allowed himself, just for a moment, to wonder what it would be like to be talked into it in truth. It was the first time he had really considered it, and despite the litany of rational objections, he had to admit, the notion felt gloriously good.
18
THE TALK OF THE TON
Elizabeth did not inform anyone of her mother’s continued presence in town. The muddle of her feelings was such that she knew not how or whether to broach the matter, and she certainly had no wish to act in any way that might persuade Mrs Bennet to make the estrangement permanent.
In her more rational moments, such an outcome did not seem possible. Only the most scandalous women—or the very richest—voluntarily left their husbands. Mrs Bennet had no money of her own and surely lacked the gumption to make a respectable go of things on her own. Moreover, she had always seemed happily settled, revelling in her situation as mistress of Longbourn and first lady of the neighbourhood. The mere suggestion that she might give it all up would have seemed far-fetched nonsense a mere two months ago.
Now, Elizabeth was less sure. The precariousness of Mrs Bennet’s situation, whilst unchanged, had been brought painfully to the fore by Mr Collins’s marriage. Her husband’s indifference to her misery remained so steady that he had sent his daughter as his ambassador rather than take the trouble to come after her himself. She had a friend who seemed able andcontent to support her financially. And she was enjoying herself—for the first time in years, it transpired.
Considered in this light, it did not seem at all impossible that Mrs Bennet should choose never to return home. The thought was truly alarming, yet Elizabeth could not find it in herself to be angry. She had never seen her mother look as earnestly distressed as when she asked to be left alone. She had resolved, therefore, to do precisely that. For now. What she would say when questions began to be asked, she had not decided. Perhaps she would refer the enquirers to her father.
“You are very quiet, Lizzy,” Jane said softly. “You would more commonly make sport of such listless performances.”
Elizabeth shook herself back to alertness and appraised her sister with feigned shock. “And you would more commonly upbraid me for doing so. It must be dire if even you are allowing censure.”
They were at a charity recital, organised by the wife of one of Mr Gardiner’s business acquaintances. It had been billed as a lively afternoon of contemporary readings and musical interludes but had yet to live up to its hyperbole, and since they were more than an hour in, it did not seem likely that it would.
Jane gave in to a grin. “Perhaps we might sneak away in the interval.”
This idea was met with hearty approval by Mrs Gardiner when it was put to her over the refreshment table ten minutes later.
“Allow me to introduce you to Mrs Michelson first,” she said. “Her husband brings a good deal of business your uncle’s way, and he would never forgive me for overlooking her.”
Mrs Michelson was sought out and the introduction made, much to the woman’s apparent glee.
“Did you say this young lady is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?” she asked, quite overlooking Jane.
“Yes,” Mrs Gardiner said with some confusion.
Mrs Michelson gave a triumphant little cry. “My dear Mrs Gardiner! All this time, the most fêted lady in London has been your niece? I never even considered… Upon my word, who would ever have guessed!” Mrs Michelson, now quite red in the face, turned to Elizabeth. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance. I have heard so much about you!”
“You have?” Elizabeth was unable to keep from chuckling at the lady’s enthusiasm, even as she frowned over her meaning.
“Why, my dear, you are the talk of theton!”
“I think there must be some mistake.”
“Is your father’s estate not Longbourn, in Hertfordshire?”
“It is.”
“Then there is no mistake,” Mrs Michelson replied, her eyes gleaming. “But I shall say no more, for I know you will not admit to anything, even if I should ask, and I would not have it said that I cannot keep a secret. Tell me, are you attending Lady Staunton’s ball next week?”
“Um…no. Pray, what secret are?—”
“That will never do,” Mrs Michelson interrupted. Turning to Mrs Gardiner, she said, “I shall get you an invitation.”
“That is most kind,” Mrs Gardiner said, “but we are not acquainted with Lady Staunton.”
“Are you not?” She paused, peering at Elizabeth in apparent confusion before giving a quick shake of her head. “Well! We must rectify that forthwith, for she will want your niece at her ball.”
Elizabeth was certain her aunt would put a stop to the nonsense and was astonished when, instead, she inclined her head and said, “Then we must not disappoint her.”
