Mrs. Vane grinned into the mirror. "Yes, I do."
"Why do you not get it for yourself, Aunt?" asked Darcy.
Mrs. Vane laughed hollowly as she removed the headpiece. "Where would I wear such a thing?"
Regretfully she handed over the bird to the assistant to be repackaged. Turning to me she said, "You are right, Elizabeth, it overwhelms you. A pity." If that comment was meant to be catty, the tone was all wrong. Her hopes of vicarious trend setting had been dashed and she was disappointed.
"I think we have everything we need," said Mrs. Vane. She gave the milliner a dismissive nod then she gestured impatiently to my lady's maid who rushed forward to gather the purchases. "I must check on my daughters. Miss Hopkins is incapable of keeping them under control for more than two hours together."
With that she hurried from the room. Flight, it would seem, is her only response to any mention of her self-inflicted captivity.
"We will take that as well," Darcy said to the milliner's assistant, indicating the box that contained the bird headdress. To me he said, "Perhaps my aunt will be inspired to leave the house if she has something striking to wear."
"Perhaps," I replied.
I could think of nothing to further to add. Now is the moment, Lizzy, stun him with your brilliant conversation before he runs away.
Darcy and I both glanced at Georgiana who was busying herself with adjusting theribbon on the bonnet she had chosen, her single purchase of the day. She carefully placed it in its hatbox and closed the lid. Then, just as soon as the lid was secure, she removed it again, pulling out the bonnet and inspecting it carefully as if in those few seconds since she had put it away she had forgotten what it looked like and needed reminding. Clearly she was stalling. Perhaps she tarried for decorum's sake. Chaperoning me? Her brother? Too late for that.
Well, there was nothing I needed to say to Darcy I could not say in front of her.
"Soooo . . . how are you today?" Apparently there was nothing I needed to say to Darcy at all.
"Well."
Of course. One word answer. As to be expected in return for my lackluster gambit. Now, Lizzy, make some intelligent comment so we can begin a real conversation.
"Good." I am losing all ability to function as a social being. I am going Darcy.
"And you?" Darcy asked politely.
"Quite well," I replied with equal politeness.
"Good."
"Indeed." It is official. I've become dull.
Darcy cast his eyes around to the many boxes my maid was packing away. "Did you get everything you needed?"
We—that is to say Darcy, Dora, and I—have been invited to dine out three days hence and Mrs. Vane deemed all my gowns "too country" thus the sudden need to order a new wardrobe. I had assumed we would go to the shops like normal people, but, no, Mrs. Vane had arranged the shops to come to us. This convenience, along with our purchases must have cost Darcy an absolute fortune.
"I should hope so. I did try not to begger you."
Darcy put on a strained smile in response. Poor jest. People of good breeding do not talk about money. Even jokingly. He must be wondering what sort of ridiculous things I will say at Lady Truesdell's dinner party on Monday.
"Bingley visited while you were . . . occupied. He asked me to relay his greetings."
I nodded, a little disappointed. I had wanted to see Mr. Bingley.
"Is Mr. Bingley well?" Seriously, someone should just put me out of my misery. Of all the questions I might have asked about Mr. Bingley—of all the ways I might have yetsaved this conversation. . . .
"Quite well."
"Good."
Darcy took a step away from me. "Well, I should—"
Madness overtook me. "No!" I shouted, seizing him bodily. Even Dora looked up questioningly at my sudden outburst.
