Sulles took the paper from him, squinting at it. His eyes widened and he ripped the paper into a number of tiny pieces. “Are you mad, sir? Why do you go waving that about?”
“You sent it to me,” said Mr. Houseman.
“Indeed,” growled Sulles, “I did not.”
“Mr. Houseman?” came a female voice.
Mr. Houseman rounded on the masked woman. “Pardon me, madam, but I am occupied currently and cannot speak just now. I apologize.”
“You’ll wish to speak to me,” said the woman, who he was now realizing was Miss Caroline Bingley.
“Oh, God in heaven, not now, Miss Bingley,” he said, glaring at her.
“You see,” said Miss Bingley, “I am the one who sent that letter and summoned you here.”
Mr. Houseman turned on her sharply.
“We have things to discuss, Mr. Houseman,” she said with a tight smile. “You’ll wish to bring your brother as well.”
Mr. Houseman’s lips parted.
“He’s dancing with Miss Darcy. She may come, too,” said Miss Bingley. “He’ll know somewhere we can all talk privately, I should think.”
“Well, I’m coming, too, then,” said Sulles.
Caroline looked him over. Certainly, she had overheard whatever had been said about Neithern’s uncle, but she wondered if he could really be as bad as all that. She had leverage, after all. It should be all right. She shrugged at him. “Suit yourself.”
NEITHER ELIZABETH NORMr. Darcy were dancing, though Elizabeth was watching as Jane and Bingley danced every dance together. It wasn’t polite, of course, to monopolize each other’s time thus, but they were engaged and it was tolerated.
“My last words to him were angry,” said Mr. Darcy. “I have held nothing but irritation and scorn towards him since he left. I feel… I cannot even say what I feel about that now. I don’t know if I can even feel it. I approach the feeling and I recoil. It’s too deep and too painful.”
“He would have understood,” said Elizabeth faintly.
“No, no, we quarreled, he and I—
“Over me,” she said pointedly. “Is it your fault, then, or my own?”
“You didn’t ask us to quarrel over you,” said Mr. Darcy, turning down the corner of his lips.
A servant swept through with a tray of drinks. She halted, smiling at the two of them, offering the tray.
Mr. Darcy took a glass and downed it before taking another.
“Oh, good idea,” whispered Elizabeth and did the same.
The servant flitted off, and Elizabeth sipped at her drink, watching her go off. Drinking the first drink quickly had blunted things rather pleasantly. She took a bigger drink of this one. Perhaps she was not in the mood to sip.
“At least Georgiana is with the duke,” said Mr. Darcy.
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, dear, I was supposed to find the dowager duchess to speak to her.”
“Oh?”
“I feel… if I am not to interfere at all with Neithern as the duke—and I do not wish to—that I should still have whatever settlement she hinted at giving me. I am her blood grandchild, after all, and the only legitimate child of her son, and, well, anyway, it wouldn’t be important, exactly, except—” She cut off, a sob welling up in her. She could hardly breathe.
“Except what?” said Mr. Darcy softly.
She turned on him with wide eyes. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”
