“No, you do not think anything is scandalous, and that is very clear,” said Lady Matlock.
“I said,” I repeated, “enough.”
My aunt turned to me. “Yes, fine, Darcy. I suppose I know the important elements in the end. Here is what we shall do. I shall look over the answers and give it all a bit of thought, and discuss a few things with Georgiana, and then Mrs. Darcy will come to tea at my house on the morrow.”
“Tea?” said Elizabeth. “Just me?”
“Just you,” said my aunt. She shut her notebook and stood up. “Well, then. Have a pleasant day, both of you.”
She left the room.
Elizabeth continued to fidget with her collar.
“You won’t go,” I muttered.
Elizabeth glanced up at me, a grateful look on her face.
“I won’t subject you to that,” I said. “I can’t believe she barged in here like that. Well, no, I can well believe it. It is exactly like her, it is only that I am appalled at the way she behaved, the way she spoke to you, and you won’t go.”
“All right,” she said.
“We must think of a proper excuse, however,” I said. “Perhaps your ankle simply won’t allow it.”
“Oh,” she said. “So, I am not going, but we are going to lie to your aunt about why?”
“Well, it’s not really a lie, Elizabeth, it’s only that this is the way things are done. One doesn’t go about telling the truth all the time. It’s not polite.”
She raised her eyebrows at me.
“You know what I mean,” I said.
“I do not know that I do,” she said, tilting her head to one side. She picked up a scone, broke a bit off, dipped it in honey herself and put it in her mouth. She chewed.
“Obviously, you can be truthful about certain things,” I said. “But other things, things that might make the other person feel as if you are rejecting them or things that might offend them, you lie about. It’s a delicate balance, and I don’t know if I ever quite thought of it this way before. A lot of it is sort of by force of habit, I suppose, but—”
“Fitzwilliam.”
I met her gaze.
“I have to go,” she said.
“No, you don’t wish to,” I said.
“If I were to beg off this invitation, it would only put it off,” she said, “and the longer I put it off, the worse it would get. I knew what I was getting into when I married you. I can handle this.”
I scratched the side of my neck, and I found I did not entirely like that answer. “Well, what are you going to say to them?”
“What do you mean?” she said.
“I mean, if you are going to… have tea with my sister and my aunt, and I am not going to be there, I suppose I am wondering—”
“Worrying,” she interrupted. “You are worrying about what I am going to say.” She glared at me.
Yes, I supposed I was. I picked up a scone myself. “Look, we’ll practice. I’ll get you ready for it.”
She raised her eyebrows at me. “You do not think I can handle myself at tea? You think I have never been to tea in my life or something of that nature? I was not raised in a barn, Fitzwilliam. I know the rules of tea.”
I broke the scone up into pieces and set the pieces down on the plate. “Yes, I know that. I am not saying that you’re uncultured or ill bred or something, I only mean that you…”
