Introductions were made all around. Mr. Collins, summoned from the breakfast parlor, bowed so low before Darcy that Elizabeth feared for the safety of his spine.
“Mr. Darcy!” he cried, nearly vibrating with reverence. “What an honor—what an elevation—for our humble circle!”
“Are we acquainted, sir?” Darcy asked, looking at Elizabeth with confusion.
“Your venerable aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is a friend to my patron, Sir Godfrey. He recently granted me the livingin his possession,” Mr. Collins exclaimed, practically quivering with delight. “I am in the happy position of being able to inform you that her ladyship was in the best of health seven days ago, when Sir Godfrey returned from paying a call on her.”
“I am glad to hear it.” Darcy inclined his head with polite restraint. “You are most obliging, sir.”
Elizabeth watched with a mixture of amusement, exasperation, and embarrassment as Darcy bore her cousin’s effusions with tolerable composure.
Mary, who had been quiet until now, regarded him with growing attention. She folded her hands in her lap. “I now remember where I have heard your name before, sir,” she said after a moment, her tone a bit sharp. “It was mentioned in the London papers this summer.”
Darcy looked at her with a touch of surprise. “The papers are fond of attaching my name to many things, Miss Mary.”
Mary did not smile. “This was regarding the fête at Carlton House.”
Elizabeth felt a faint tightening in her chest at her younger sister’s expression.
“Yes,” Mary continued thoughtfully, “there was discussion of certain gentlemen declining the invitation. It was said that one such gentleman did so out of principle.”
Darcy’s expression altered very slightly. “There were a variety of reasons for my absence.”
Mary’s eyes sharpened. “Principle is often religious in nature.”
The room grew a shade quieter.
Elizabeth shifted in her seat. “Mary—”
But Mary pressed on, not loudly, not yet indignantly, merely with the inexorable tone she adopted when she believed she was approaching moral ground. “It was suggested,” shesaid carefully, “that the refusal had some connection to Mrs. Fitzherbert, and her… persuasion.”
Jane looked distressed. Bingley glanced uneasily at Darcy.
Darcy’s voice remained even. “Miss Bennet, I do not make a practice of discussing private matters in drawing rooms.”
Mary’s fingers tightened. “Then I will ask plainly, sir. Are you aCatholic?”
There it was.
The word did not ring like an accusation—but it hovered dangerously close to one.
Mrs. Bennet gasped. “Mary!”
Elizabeth’s heart began to pound. “That is an impertinent question, Mary,” she said forcefully.
Mary flushed, but she did not retreat. “Religion is not impertinent. It is foundational.”
Darcy met her gaze steadily. “My faith is not a spectacle for public debate.”
“That is not an answer,” Mary returned, the fervor beginning to kindle at last. “If you adhere to doctrines contrary to our Church, then it is material—particularly when my sister—”
“Kitty,” Elizabeth cut in swiftly, “pray fetch Papa.”
Kitty darted out, eager for the drama.
Mary rose halfway from her chair. “We cannot simply ignore such matters. England has suffered enough confusion over divided loyalties.”
“Mary,” Jane said gently, “this is neither the time nor the place.”
