Mary curtsied low and kept her eyes fixed on the floor.
“Please, be seated,” Elizabeth prompted the motley assembly.
A maid arrived with the tea and another with a tray of pastries that took the judge’s attention away from Elizabeth, who then busied herself with making the beverage to everyone’s liking. Her occupation allowed the judge to interrogate her innocent sister, who managed very well, by the sound of it.
“‘Meekness cultivated on Christian principles is the proper consummation, and highest finishing, of female excellence.’”
Mary, as always, was quoting Fordyce, but the judge did not look as if he thought any less of her for her pedantic display. He exclaimed in pleasant surprise and admitted to being intrigued by her pious sister.
Darcy and his cousin fell into an easy discussion over whether the sanctions to counter Napoleon’s Continental System, a form of economic warfare pursued through an embargo on British trade with Europe, were doing more harm than good.
Elizabeth approached the young girl who had once been forwarded as a candidate for her husband’s wife, just as Mary launched into a paraphrased Fordyce tirade about accomplished women.
“—they learn chiefly to dress, to dance, to speak bad French, to prattle much nonsense, to practise I know not how many conceited airs, and in consequence conclude themselves to be accomplished women.”
The discussion gave Elizabeth an idea for a conversational topic.
“Do you enjoy music, Miss Darcy?” Speaking Clarissa’s name reminded her of Georgiana, who was absent. Perhaps she was occupied with her master?
Miss Clarissa Darcy did not answer. She may not have heard her query because she was too engrossed staring at a flower arrangement. Where was Georgiana?
Deep in conversation with his cousin, Darcy did not notice, and it would be rude to interrupt him to ask after his sister.
“Certainly,” was the short reply after much delay.
So, she had heard but deliberately postponed her reply. Was she trying to offend her?
“Do you play any instruments? I play the pianoforte, though very ill indeed.” Elizabeth resorted to humour to try to put the girl at ease.
“I play the pianoforte and harp. To what proficiency I leave to others to decide.”
Elizabeth nodded; the girl was not inclined to be pleased, so much was abundantly clear, and her attention drifted back to Mary’s conversation.
“—romance and distractions, the extravagance of vanity, and the rage of conquest,” Mary snarled in disgust.
“Clarissa, please join us,” the judge commanded.
His daughter rose with due haste and chose the chair closest to her father, which afforded Elizabeth an opportunity to ask the butler to notify Georgiana about their guests. But Mr Gilbert informed her that Darcy had already decided that Georgiana’s studies should not be disturbed, which left Elizabeth with no other choice but to resume her seat and listen to the conversations around her.
“You should hear Miss Bennet’s conception of a virtuous and a sinful woman. She is an uncommonly clever girl.” The judge gestured to Mary, who preened at the praise. “What do you consider female accomplishments, then, Miss Bennet?”
“Accomplishments may be divided into three classes—the domestic, the elegant, and the intellectual.” Mary once again paraphrased with the certainty she possessed in all her opinions. Not even a distinguished and formidable judge intimidated her in the slightest.
“Of the three, which would you deem the greatest virtue?” the judge asked with genuine interest.
Elizabeth could only be relieved that he paid her no attention, as he was certainly less inclined to act with civility where she was concerned.
“The first are neglected by many women as below their notice, but no height of rank or affluence can justify such neglect. To care for a household is an indispensable part of female employment and depicts perhaps the most beautiful image of a virtuous woman.”
“’Who can find a virtuous woman? Her price is far above rubies.’” The judge agreed by quoting Proverbs, which made Mary preen and compelled her to continue.
“’Such a woman is to be trusted. Her husband has no need of spoil. In her personal honour, her fidelity, and also in her economy and prudence with regard to all affairs at home—'”
Elizabeth squirmed, the image of an ancient Chinese artefact and a stack of bills flashing before her inner eye.
“’—her husband reposes such perfect confidence, that he can go abroad and conduct his business without the smallest anxiety of domestic concerns, or the least temptation to enrich himself at the expense of other men.’”
“Brava, Miss Bennet! I have rarely encountered such a virtuous and sage woman in all my years. Yet you do not boast or crow. I am exceedingly impressed.”
