Elizabeth did not much enjoy spending the day in the ladies’ company, and she could hardly conceal her dissatisfaction from her uncle.
“How come you did not like—”
“These activities that are so pleasant to other women?” she asked.
Thomas Bennet smiled at her annoyance, inviting her to continue.
“Because losing a whole hour matching a ribbon to a gown is not my favourite pastime. I know what I want to wear, or I simply place my confidence in Madame Clotilde, and in one hour I could have an entirely new wardrobe.”
“My dear, you may go alone whenever you wish.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied at last with a smile.
“Are you ready for Wednesday’s dinner?”
She already knew her uncle well enough to understand what lay behind the question.
“Yes, I shall be glad to see Mr and Miss Darcy—”
“And Lord Matlock and his family.”
“You seem to know a great deal about this dinner,” she replied with apparent curiosity and that touch of amusement Thomas so enjoyed. Elizabeth was a lady in the best Bennet tradition, accustomed to viewing life with a little irony. Her beauty extended far beyond a lovely face and graceful figure. There was something lively and intelligent about her that gave distinction to everything she said and did.
“Uncle?” Elizabeth asked, curious at his silence.
“I know that a certain gentleman is very eager to present you to his family.”
“I know his family already. Lady Catherine is representative enough, whilst Colonel Fitzwilliam is a dear friend.”
“Representative?” Uncle Thomas laughed. “On the contrary, I suspect she is the least representative member of it. I do not imagine the Matlocks are coming to dinner merely for the menu. They wish to meet you, and I am certain Mr Darcy has informed them of your arrival in London.”
“And of the place where we are living, and the present owner of the duke’s house.”
“Why do I detect a certain disdain in your words that was absent only a week ago, when we were awaiting Mr Darcy’s arrival at Netherfield?”
It was a fair question. She remembered the wave of excitement she had felt whilst signing the church register as witness to Jane’s marriage, and the way Mr Darcy’s eyes had followed her throughout the ceremony. She remembered her heart beating far more rapidly than usual. Yet since arriving in London, her eagerness to see him had diminished. The change puzzled even her.
“I do not know, but you are right,” she admitted without hesitation.
“Has this new attitude anything to do with the gentlemen the duchess introduced to you at Madame Clotilde’s?”
She smiled, and a trace of guilt crossed her face that Thomas detected immediately.
Just as they were leaving Madame Clotilde’s establishment, a carriage had drawn up before the door, and a lady had alighted in great haste to greet Henrietta. Of the same age as the duchess, she possessed an elegant appearance. Paying no attention to the busy street, she embraced her friend warmly. Soon afterwards, an elderly gentleman and two younger men joined them. They greeted the duchess with such warmth that Elizabeth immediately understood they were old friends. Madame Clotilde quietly led them into a private parlour. Before long, the Bennet ladies found themselves introduced to their first members of the ton: Lord and Lady Wimborne, their son, and their grandson.
Lady Wimborne seemed delighted to find the duchess abroad at last.
“You cannot imagine, Mrs Bennet, how hard we tried to persuade her to leave the house. It is almost a year since the duke’s death!”
“You cannot imagine, Mrs Bennet, how hard we tried to persuade the duchess to abandon her mourning. It has been almost a year since the duke’s death!”
Elizabeth admired what she considered an excellent example of a lady’s conversation, as undoubtedly all London knew that the duchess mourned a lost life rather more than the husband who had shared it.
The meeting had indeed been pleasant, and her uncle was correct. The young Lord Wimborne was tall and handsome. Yet he was not the source of Elizabeth’s embarrassment.
“But how do you know what happened?” she asked, then immediately blushed. Her uncle and the duchess had obviouslyspoken, and not by accident, for he appeared informed of everything that occurred during the day.
“Come, my dear great-niece, there is no need to blush. I have no secrets, and I make no attempt to conceal how much I enjoy spending time with Henrietta. We are old friends, and it is all that remains to us.”
