“My dear Madeline,” said Lady Ashford, crossing quickly to her, “we feared we had kept you waiting.”
“You are but just in time,” said Lady Matlock. “We are all assembled at last.”
Introductions were completed without delay. Lord Ashford greeted the company with composed civility, while Lady Ashford renewed her acquaintance with Elizabeth. Servants moved quietly through the room with refreshments; Lady Matlock settled Mrs. Gardiner beside her upon a sofa, Colonel Fitzwilliam claimed a place near the fire, and Lord Matlock drew Mr. Gardiner into conversation. Darcy found himself at Elizabeth's side almost without design, and for a quarter of an hour the company divided and reassembled in the easy manner of family.
At length dinner was announced. The company rose and passed into the dining room, where Lady Matlock declared that, as they were among family, she would have none of the ceremony of assigned places. “Sit where you please,” she said. “I am determined to enjoy at least one dinner this season without consulting precedence.”
This indulgence being universally approved, the company seated themselves with little delay, and for a time the conversation remained general. Lady Matlock and Lady Ashford spoke of the town, of calls made and neglected, and of those engagements which must be endured whether one wished it or no.
“You cannot imagine,” said Lady Ashford, “how completely my children have forgotten me in favour of yours. Frederick has declared Eddie's ships superior to anything in his possession, and Margaret has taken to arranging Bethany's ribbons as though they were matters of state.”
“My children are no better,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “Grace speaks of Hyde Park as though it were a kingdom to which she has a rightful claim, and Freddie has not ceased to ask why he may not return tomorrow.”
“They will contrive it yet,” said Lady Ashford.
Lord Matlock set down his spoon and turned toward Mr. Gardiner. “And the ship; I understand she is nearly—”
“My dear Henry,” said Lady Matlock, “you will not begin upon ships at my table.”
He smiled and resumed his soup. “You see how I am governed, Gardiner.”
“I should not wish you otherwise,” said Mr. Gardiner.
At that moment the servants entered with the next course, and while dishes were removed and replaced, the conversation shifted. Elizabeth answered Lady Ashford's inquiries about Brinmouth, speaking of the lighthouse and their morning walks; Mrs. Gardiner added an account of their sailing excursion and several small adventures that had attended it.
Lady Matlock, whose attention had more than once been drawn to Elizabeth, now observed her more steadily. At the theatre, the resemblance had been no more than an impression; a turn of the head, a light imperfectly caught, a memory awakened before it could be examined. Here, in the steadiness of a well-lit room, such illusions did not readily persist. She watched Elizabeth as she spoke with Mrs. Gardiner, with Darcy,and with the others at the table. There was ease in her manner, and a quiet firmness in her tone; something thoughtful, yet entirely her own. Her sister had possessed a gentleness of a different kind; a softness which yielded where this young lady seemed rather to consider and then decide. Even the likeness in feature, when more calmly regarded, appeared less certain. The shape might recall; the expression did not. The eyes above all were different. Whatever had first suggested the resemblance could not be found there, nor indeed in any feature which admitted of close reflection.
She corrected herself with a degree of amusement. The past had a way of presenting itself where it was most wished, and least to be trusted. She had lost her sister too soon to sickness, and then Margaret with her infant child. The hope that had briefly comforted them all had vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared. That it was now near twenty years since she had last seen them, and that the recollection had first returned to her at the theatre, might sufficiently account for an impression she ought never to have encouraged. Elizabeth Bennet was a very pleasing young woman, deserving of regard entirely on her own account, and with that conclusion Lady Matlock allowed the matter to rest.
“And the presents,” said Lady Ashford at last, looking from one to the other, “I begin to think that between you, Madeline, and Mr. Darcy, my children have been most thoroughly spoiled. I cannot imagine there was anything left in the town.”
“We are always tempted to indulge them when we are away, and this time we had more reason than usual. Your care of them could not go unacknowledged.”
“And very handsomely acknowledged,” said Lord Ashford. “Our nursery has not been so well supplied in years.”
“With Mr. Darcy engaged in the matter,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “I have long since resigned any claim to distinction. I am their uncle by right, yet I find myself quite eclipsed.”
“I should be sorry to deprive you of your consequence,” said Darcy.
“You have already done so. I must now rely upon charm alone, Colonel Fitzwilliam replied.
“The selections themselves were made with uncommon judgment,” said Lady Matlock. “There is not a single article among them that does not appear particularly well chosen.”
“I was about to say the same,” said Lady Ashford. “One might almost suppose, Mr. Darcy, that you had assistance.”
“I was not without guidance.”
“That explains it perfectly,” said Lord Ashford. “Left to himself, I imagine he would have purchased half the town without distinction.”
“I preferred not to risk omission.”
“I think,” said Lord Matlock dryly, “that none who were remembered will complain of it.”
“Nor those who were not,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, “for they will never know what they have lost.”
“And the conveyance of all this bounty,” said Lord Ashford, “must have been an undertaking in itself.”
“It was,” said Mr. Gardiner. “I began to think we travelled less with luggage than with cargo.”
