Elizabeth said nothing. Her appetite had vanished entirely.
Tomorrow evening. She would have to spend an entire evening in Mr. Darcy's home, surrounded by the evidence of his wealth and respectability, all the while knowing what—whom—that wealth supported.
"Lizzy?" Mrs. Gardiner's voice held a note of concern. "You look pale. Are you quite well?"
"Perfectly well, Aunt. I am only surprised by the invitation."
"It will be pleasant to see how a gentleman of Mr. Darcy's standing keeps his residence," Mr. Gardiner said. "I confess myself curious about the property."
“If it is anything like Pemberly, then it would be a delight to see.” Mrs. Gardiner added.
Elizabeth forced herself to take a seat behind the chair and poured a little coffee into her cup. She raised it quickly to her lips, hoping the act might excuse her silence and that the subject would soon change. The coffee tasted like ash upon her tongue.
***
The following evening arrived with the inexorable quality of all dreaded events.
Mr. Darcy's estate lay on the outskirts of Bath, accessible by a short carriage ride through increasingly genteel neighborhoods. The house itself, while not as grand as Elizabeth imagined Pemberley must be, was nonetheless imposing—a handsome stone structure with tall windows that glowed golden in the evening light.
They were received in an entrance hall decorated with restrained elegance. A housekeeper—efficient and well-dressed—took their wraps and led them to a drawing room where Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley awaited.
Mr. Darcy stepped forward as they entered, his manner courteous but warmer than Elizabeth had ever seen it incompany. "Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth. Welcome. I am honored to receive you in my home."
"The honor is ours, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner replied. "You have a fine property here."
"Thank you. It is modest compared to Pemberley, but it serves well for extended stays in Bath."
The drawing room was furnished with taste—comfortable chairs arranged to encourage conversation, paintings on the walls that suggested a collector's eye rather than mere decoration, and a pianoforte near the window that appeared well-used rather than ornamental.
Elizabeth took in these details with a critical eye that found fault where perhaps none existed. Every elegant touch seemed calculated now. Every sign of refinement felt like a mask concealing uglier truths.
"Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, approaching her as the others settled into conversation. "I trust you have been well since we last met?"
"Quite well, sir."
"I apologize for my absence these past days. I had...matters that required my attention."
I am sure you did, Elizabeth thought bitterly. Aloud, she said only, "You need not apologize, Mr. Darcy. You have no obligation to account for your time to us."
Something flickered in his expression—uncertainty, perhaps, or concern. "Nevertheless, I regret that I was unable to call. I hope you were not inconvenienced."
"Not in the least."
The coolness in her tone was unmistakable. Mr. Darcy's brow furrowed slightly, but before he could speak further, the housekeeper announced that dinner was served.
The dining room continued the theme of understated elegance. The table was set with fine china and crystal,the courses served with practiced efficiency. Mr. Gardiner pronounced the wine excellent. Mrs. Gardiner complimented the arrangement of the flowers.
Elizabeth ate mechanically, tasting nothing.
Mr. Darcy, seated across from her, made several attempts at conversation. He inquired whether she found the society in Bath as lively as that of Hertfordshire, and if she had discovered any place within the city that particularly pleased her.
She answered each question with the bare minimum of civility. Yes. No. I found it pleasant enough.
She could not look at him without seeing Sarah's bright smile.Papa always makes sure we have what we need.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he said during a lull in the general conversation, his voice carrying just enough to be polite. “I hope the change in weather has not been troublesome. You seem quieter than usual this evening.”
It was carefully done—a remark that could be taken as simple concern for a guest's comfort, yet his eyes searched hers with unmistakable meaning.
