"You know what would be nice," Mia said.
"What," Elizabeth said.
"If you two got married."
The car was very quiet.
Darcy's hands did not move on the wheel. Elizabeth kept her eyes on the street outside.
"Mia," she said.
"I am just saying." Mia's voice was entirely reasonable, which was the most dangerous version of her voice. "Think about it. Mr. Darcy would be my new dad. You would be my new mum. We would be a proper family. The three of us, in the house, permanently. Nobody going anywhere."
"We are not —"
"I know, I know." She ate a jelly sweet. "I am just saying it would be nice. Tidy. I mean, you two have dated before, and Mr Darcy is handsome, and you are very beautiful. It is perfect. A match made in some romance tale. Mum would have found it very funny."
"Charlotte would have found it insufferably satisfying," Elizabeth said, "which is different from funny."
"She would have said I told you so," Mia agreed. "Many times. At volume."
"This is not a conversation we are having."
"We are literally having it right now."
"Mia."
In the front seat, beside her, Darcy had not said a single word. Elizabeth was aware of this the way you were aware of a sound that had stopped.
"Anyway," Elizabeth said, with the specific lightness of someone changing a subject by force of will, "it is not relevant because I am actually seeing someone."
Mia went still in the back seat.
Darcy's jaw moved. Just slightly. Elizabeth could almost see how he was using a lot of effort to keep his eyes on the road.
"You are seeing someone," Mia said.
"I have a date. Next week."
"Through Ember?" Darcy said, finally saying something.
"Through Ember, yes."
The silence that followed had a shape to it.
"Huh," Mia said. "What is Ember?"
"Yes, Elizabeth, what is Ember?" Darcy asked mockingly.
"It is not a big deal," Elizabeth said, ignoring Darcy’s question. "It is one date. Lydia organised the whole thing, and I am going because otherwise she will never stop."
"Right."
"It is not a big deal," Elizabeth said again, which was the second time she had said it, which she was aware of.
"Of course," Mia said. Mildly. The way she said things when she was thinking considerably more than she was saying.
The street outside continued. A traffic light. A late bus. The ordinary texture of the city at midnight.
