Page 190 of The Mistress of All & Torn

He glanced at Lady Kendal, then at Elizabeth, then turned back to his companions.

“You were not wrong, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth responded. He looked at her again and their gazes locked while she spoke further. “I am still barely capable of fully understanding all the affairs and even less so in managing them. I am simply fortunate to have Lady Kendal, my uncle, and our solicitors to support and lead me. And I still have the book of rules and suggestions that you wrote for the apprentice I was last year,” she concluded.

Elizabeth wondered at her own boldness in addressing him in such a manner in a room full of people, considering her earlier anxiety in even seeing him. She was well aware that all of his interventions during the evening were mostly for her and meant more than the others were able to understand. And so were her replies—coming from the heart, hoping he would properly comprehend them.

“My dear Elizabeth, you are too modest,” Lady Kendal declared genuinely. “I can testify that you exceed all my expectations, every day. Your excellent character is only enhanced by your sharp mind and your kind heart.”

“Upon my word, Lady Kendal makes Eliza sound like a saint,” Caroline said jeeringly, laughing together with her sisters. “And Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam seem to support her. But we have known each other for long enough to know that is not the case.”

The offence was direct again, and Charles immediately scolded his sister. Lady Kendal looked positively angry and ready to interject, but Elizabeth offered her a comforting smile.

“Heaven forbid, Caroline,” Elizabeth answered sarcastically. “If I were a saint, I would not so readily remember some of the details from our past acquaintance. Like the letters you wrote to my sister Jane three years ago, or your claim of intimate friendship with Mr Darcy.”

Caroline choked on her food and spat it onto the table as she started to cough. Louisa and Miss Pemberton hurried to help her, while her husband only stared at her, puzzled.

Elizabeth noticed Lady Kendal’s satisfied gaze, Darcy’s little smile crushed on his lips, and the colonel’s broad grin. She felt amused by the argument with Caroline—as it had occurred many times in the past—but also uneasy seeing Jane and Bingley’s panicked expressions. She had been too harsh in fighting Caroline’s rudeness with the same weapon and embarrassing her in front of her new husband.

Elizabeth offered a truce. “We should forget about the past, though. We are here to celebrate our brother, Charles. Despite our past differences, we have in common our affection for Charles and Jane, have we not, Mrs Pemberton?”

“I am glad someone remembered me,” Charles joked. “The conversation was all very interesting, but I believe it was too much excitement for one dinner. It is time for less talking and more drinking—and perhaps some music,” Bingley declared conciliatorily, and Jane readily agreed with him. Caroline did not reply, only sipping from her glass of port, her resentment apparent.

“My dear Georgiana, would you give us the pleasure of hearing you perform later?” the colonel applied to his talented cousin to bring peace to the conflict.

“If you wish, I shall,” the girl answered, understanding the importance of the request.

For the rest of the dinner, the conversation was restricted to the weather, the theatre, and parties.

Several more courses were served, and Caroline Pemberton née Bingley regained her confidence and audacity, talking mostly to her sister Louisa. Her other sister, Miss Pemberton, employed most of her time trying to gain Mr Darcy’s attention. She leant towards him, whispered to him, asked him to fill her glass of port—all with one purpose apparent to everyone.

Elizabeth reproached herself for her lack of control over her own temper. Any dispute with Caroline was annoying, but she should have answered with more concern for Jane and Bingley’s feelings. The long and eventful evening slowly became tiresome to her and, if she was to be honest with herself, rather uncomfortable, as she observed Miss Pemberton’s closeness to Darcy. He did not seem to be doing anything to encourage her, and he glanced back at Elizabeth several times, but her distress—although she called it ridiculous—remained.

“Of course we will come, will we not, Elizabeth?” Lady Kendal asked her.

She startled and looked at her grandmother, puzzled.

“To Covent Garden, my dear. We were discussing the première of ‘Romeo and Juliet’, with the allegedly talented Elizabeth O’Neill as Juliet. It will be her debut at Covent Garden!”

“I hear she is simply wonderful,” Anne insisted. “Georgiana and I look forward to seeing her. We have the Fitzwilliam box at our disposal.”

“I am very excited too, Lizzy,” Jane added. “I know how much you love the theatre. You cannot possibly miss this performance.”

Being called Lizzy brought a smile to Elizabeth’s lips. There was so much excitement on everyone’s faces that she abandoned any argument. The prospect of a beautiful performance touched her heart too, although Romeo and Juliet was not the most appropriate one to raise her spirits. She did not even look at Darcy but felt his gaze on her.

“I would love to see the play,” she responded. “And I could not refuse such warm requests, regardless,” she smiled.

“I wonder if we will all fit in the box,” Caroline said. Her displeasure was apparent, and Elizabeth felt provoked again. As little as she cared for Caroline’s uncivil behaviour, it affected Jane and Lady Kendal, and it deserved proper censure.

“Caroline, we should be grateful that Colonel Fitzwilliam has invited us to join him in his box, otherwise we would have to purchase regular tickets, which are already sold out. We are seven of us, so it is us outsiders who fill the box,” Bingley responded harshly.

“I am very grateful, Charles. I would not have attended the play otherwise, and I have thanked Colonel Fitzwilliam several times!”

“You should not worry about it being too crowded, Mrs Pemberton. We have our own box,” Lady Kendal declared with a condescending smile. “I shall make the arrangements tomorrow, and then we shall decide who will sit in each box so we can all enjoy the play comfortably.”

The sarcasm in the lady’s tone was apparent, and it vexed Caroline, but fortunately she found nothing to say in reply. Elizabeth found herself wondering about Darcy’s opinion—he was silent, watching the discussion. Was he pleased with the notion of seeing her again at the theatre? Would he even be there? And if he was, he would probably sit in the box he shared with the Matlocks, so she would not have a chance to speak to him, nor be in his company much.

Overwhelmed by such reflections, Elizabeth grew angry with herself. She felt she was behaving and musing like a silly young girl, making a fool of herself. An honest and open discussion with Darcy would be appropriate, but that was unthinkable until she was certain of his feelings. But how could she be certain, without talking to him? And yet, how could a widow during her mourning period carry on such a conversation with a gentleman who treated her with utter respect and consideration?

“Elizabeth? What do you think?” Again, Lady Kendal brought her back from her reverie, and with her face flushed, Elizabeth noticed she was the object of general scrutiny.