Her gown was fashioned from fine silk in a shade of burnt orange, which heightened the pallor of her skin and deepened the copper of her hair. She was a handsome woman, and Elizabeth perceived at once how striking a pair she and Mr. Darcy made, not only in appearance but in the expense of their dress and the confidence of their bearing.
Elizabeth then turned her attention to Jane and Mr. Bingley. He had led her sister to a chair near the fire and was positioning a screen to guard her from any draft. Once he was assured of her comfort, he addressed Mrs. Gardiner and asked what she preferred to drink.
“Ratafia, sir.”
Elizabeth watched him cross to the sideboard to pour the drinks for Jane and her aunt and was startled when Mr. Darcy spoke. She turned and found him standing so close that she might have reached out and touched him.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I offer you a drink?”
“Yes, sir. Negus, if you please.”
He stepped away, and Miss Bingley approached her. Her gaze traveled over Elizabeth from her hair to her slippers, pausing at her bosom and her hips. Elizabeth watched her expression change. Miss Bingley made it plain that she did not like what she saw.
“Miss Eliza, your figure is quite boyish. I pity you. Full-figured women are much admired by gentlemen of fashion. With your figure, you will never secure a husband.”
Elizabeth caught the woman’s eye and held it. “Then it is fortunate, Miss Bingley, that I am not in pursuit of one. You need not expend your pity upon me, for I am contented as I am.It has been my observation that women of fuller figure often gain greatly in size after their first confinement, and I am quite satisfied with the advantages nature bestowed upon me.”
Miss Bingley’s eyes narrowed. “Upon my word, you give your opinion very decidedly for one who has not been accustomed to moving in the upper circles of society.”
Elizabeth had no opportunity to reply, for Mr. Darcy returned with her drink. There was a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he remained at her side. Elizabeth then watched as Miss Bingley bent all her efforts toward pleasing him with clever quips and conversation, which, unfortunately for the lady, rapidly slid into obsequiousness. He must have quickly tired of it, for he soon excused himself.
Chapter 8: Dinner At Mr. Bingley’s
A quarter hour later, the butler entered the drawing room and announced that dinner was served.
Mr. Bingley led Jane into the dining room. Miss Bingley immediately claimed Mr. Darcy’s arm as a wife might do. The others followed behind.
“My brother tells me he met you and your family at the Tower of London,” Mrs. Hurst said pleasantly. “How came you to be in that part of town?”
Elizabeth studied the woman. Mrs. Hurst appeared near Charlotte’s age, perhaps seven and twenty, with a mild expression and eyes that suggested genuine curiosity.
“My younger sister and I arrived in town yesterday,” Elizabeth replied. “My aunt wished to take us on an excursion since Lydia had never visited London before. My nephew has a great fondness for the Royal Menagerie, and that is how we came to be at the Tower.”
Mrs. Hurst said, by way of furthering the conversation, “My brother’s solicitor keeps offices on Mark Lane, and there were matters that could not be delayed. Grain, mostly.”
Elizabeth’s interest was immediately engaged, and the two women spoke of trade and markets until they were seated beside one another.
“You are very well informed on the subject,” Elizabeth observed.
“I ought to be,” Mrs. Hurst replied with a smile. “I assisted my father until his death two years ago. Charles still looks to me forguidance, and he leans heavily upon Mr. Darcy as well. Between the two of us, we hope to make him a man of business, though he intends to sell his interests and purchase an estate instead.”
At this point, they were interrupted by Miss Bingley’s loud laugh, which to Elizabeth sounded perilously close to a snort. They turned to see Miss Bingley lightly swat Mr. Darcy’s arm. Elizabeth concluded they must be betrothed, or very nearly so, for the lady would not otherwise take such liberties with a gentleman who sat stiffly in his chair and frowned at her down the proud line of his aristocratic nose.
The first course was served, and Elizabeth discovered to her delight that it was turtle soup. She began to understand that Mr. Bingley’s fortune must be considerable, for such a delicacy was rarely offered, particularly to so small and unremarkable a party.
“Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley said sweetly, “pray tell me whether the soup compares favorably with that which the Countess serves at her dinners.”
“It is excellent,” he replied. “Your chef has acquitted himself admirably.”
Miss Bingley looked gratified. “I know it is a favorite of yours. You dine with us so rarely that I wished this evening’s fare to be quite memorable.”
Mr. Darcy merely inclined his head and returned his attention to the soup.
Elizabeth had never tasted turtle soup before, and when she finished, she found herself wishing for more. She smiled at her own indulgence, and when she looked up, she caught Mr. Darcy’s eye. One corner of his mouth curved almost imperceptibly, and she could not determine whether theexpression was prompted by the soup or by her. Had he discerned her temptation to scrape the bowl clean? A warm flush rose to her cheeks.
The next course was salmon, delicately prepared and flaking beneath her fork. She ate every morsel with care, determined not to draw notice. When she glanced up again, she found Mr. Darcy watching her with clear amusement.
Miss Bingley, meanwhile, had scarcely touched her own plate.
