“We shall go and find something pretty,” said Mrs Gardiner. “I know a place where they keep gowns already made, and with your figure, all will become you.”
It was a wise decision, but a little after noon, a message arrived for Elizabeth. She regarded it with incredulous eyes, not daring to open it.
“What can she possibly have written to me?” she asked, and looked on in surprise as her aunt laughed.
“My dear Elizabeth, she is not the Queen of England. You must not be so fearful,” said her aunt, taking the letter.
Miss Elizabeth,
I shall expect you today at four o’clock.
I remain,
Diana Matlock
“I can scarcely believe it,” Elizabeth murmured. “Today?” She glanced at the clock upon the mantel, and her mind was thrown into confusion once more. “I have but two hours to prepare.”
“Fear nothing. We shall accompany you,” said Mrs Gardiner, showing the note to Mary, who received it with a solemn nod.
“But—” Elizabeth began, intending to say they were not invited, but her aunt anticipated her meaning.
“We shall wait for you in the carriage, or take a turn in that fine neighbourhood. There is a park nearby, if I recollect.”
They left the house much earlier than was needful, for Elizabeth was so solicitous not to arrive late that Mrs Gardiner yielded to her entreaties.
“Now, Elizabeth, you must compose yourself. Should Lady Matlock reject our account, she will yet be civil enough to thank you for your pains and to dismiss you politely. Nothing dangerous will ensue. The worst you may endure is anunpleasant quarter of an hour. Be the young lady I know you to be. Only breathe.”
Yet, as they halted before Matlock House, even this simple counsel was hard to follow. However, the moment she crossed the threshold, her agitation was unexpectedly dispelled. Perhaps it was owing to the butler, who greeted her with a smile and then announced her with the utmost courtesy, far from the grim Cerberus she had imagined.
After all, I am awed by this world, she reflected as she curtseyed, and in owning to herself this genuine fear, she felt some relief.
“We are alone, Miss Bennet. My eldest son and his wife are in Scotland. They went directly from Pemberley,” said Lady Matlock. Her manner of speaking of her family, and of Pemberley, seemed to imply that their former days together were not forgotten; and this, Elizabeth thought, was an auspicious beginning.
“I thank your ladyship for receiving me.”
Lady Matlock smiled, and by her silence invited Elizabeth to proceed.
“I shall be very brief, my lady.”
But Lady Matlock, who had begun to pour the tea, paused and set the pot upon the table when she heard the name that followed.
“It concerns Miss Henry.”
She leaned back with a sigh and murmured, “That girl,” in a tone so melancholy that Elizabeth felt an immediate compassion for her. “My mother-in-law never liked me.”
The unexpectedness of such a confidence caused Elizabeth, for a moment, to forget her own anxieties.
“I was a well-brought-up young lady, from a family of the first respectability, and yet she would not approve of me, and made her dissatisfaction known all her life. When my sons wereborn, I resolved never to act in the same manner towards my daughters-in-law. I tried, with all my heart, to welcome Miss Henry.”
A silence followed, and Elizabeth was uncertain how to proceed.
“Pray, Miss Elizabeth, tell me what has occurred.”
Elizabeth, who had practised her speech half the night, now found herself delivering it far better than in her rehearsals. Speaking with simplicity, she gave no conjectures of her own, but confined herself to plain recital, as Mary had advised.
“I confess,” she concluded, “that we have not learnt the name of Sophia Barrington’s husband. Yet the rest of the history may serve to indicate that she is Miss Henry’s mother.”
From her reticule, she drew two papers. “I allowed myself to translate the letter, with the assistance of my sister Mary. Here are both,” she said, laying them on the table. Lady Matlock regarded them for a time before taking up the English version, which she read through more than once.
