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“A good description, I can think of many people who are the same. And Hurst was just a drunk?”

“He would leave the manor for an afternoon of shooting. That seemed to be the extent of his exercise, not that shooting is that athletic. Other than that it was drink, food and cards, in that order.”

“Your host?”

“An odd mixture. On one hand he is charming, polite, good company, just an asset to any occasion. Yet on others he is little short of pathetic. Especially when it comes to the control of his sister’s tongue. She will get him into trouble. Frankly it is a miracle that she has not caused problems for him already.”

“You describe a milquetoast.”

“That is the thing, only in some aspects. In others he is a complete gentleman.”

“It is interesting the way you have talked about them, and the various descriptions of the incident. I am not sure that Bingley alone could have smoothed things over, but if both Darcy and Bingley had spoken up then it might have turned out different.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“They would have had to slap down family in public so it is unlikely. But if Bingley told Caroline to shut up, and used those very words, while Darcy reinforced him then it is possible. Calling out Hurst for being a stupid drunk on top of refuting Caroline Bingley’s words? It is possible. Your reputation would have been damaged but rehabilitation would have been possible. Their silence sealed your fate.”

--

“Yesterday was difficult for you, I know. That is why I delayed this second part of our conversation for a day. I am sorry to tell you, this might be even more difficult.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because we will discuss your present status, your present position, and talk of the future. You have been raised a gentlewoman, that is clear from your bearing and conversation. And you know that when educating a young lady, everything is couched in euphemism, no one is ever blunt and candid. At my age I doubt I can be anything other than blunt and candid. I propose that we talk openly of things that are never normally talked about in the company of young women. Do I have your permission?”

“Yes, but before you start, can I again ask why? I understand that you believe yourself incapable of acting in any other manner, although I am not sure about that. You have been nothing but a perfect gentleman with me. Why do you need to warn me, indeed why do you think I need to hear you being blunt and candid?”

“It will ultimately be easier. There may be moments where you are mortified, that is all but certain, but it is important to your future that you understand where you are right now.”

Elizabeth nodded.

“With a certain degree of trepidation, I agree.”

“You are in Purgatory, a Catholic term but apt nonetheless. You are stuck between worlds and all the euphemisms and allusions will not solve the issue. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, second daughter of the Bennet family, who walked into the Michaelmas dance at the Assembly Rooms in Meryton is dead. Not literally as you sit before me, but that life is over. There is no going back. I do not say this to condemn either you or your uncle but when you arrived at his home you should have ditched the name Bennet. Legally your father had thrown you out of the family. Had you adopted your uncle’s name, Gardiner I believe, then many of your problems could have been avoided. You did not and here we are.

“That is the first point. We touched on the issue of scrutiny if you had accompanied me to church. I had no issue with you doing so, and in isolation you would have been fine. But nothing is in isolation. It is the scrutiny of others, as you have viciously experienced in Meryton, that is the issue. There has to be a believable story to account for your presence. You have seen how unrelated people are ready to jump on any perceived impropriety. You arriving on my arm at church would be such an issue.

“So there is number two. Now we come to your future. What do you want to do?”

It was not rhetorical and Elizabeth pondered the question.

“I do not know. By far the best thing about being here is that I have not panicked about my future. Just as you believe me to be a good woman, I believe you to be a gentleman. Ever since the incident I can always feel the panic, sometimes is deeper, other times it is right below the surface, but it has been my constant companion. At present it is not close to the surface but I cannot lie, it is still there.”

Peter Napier was pleased, and proud, of what she said. He was not so much working around convention as shattering it with a great big sledge.

“How do you feel about your family?”

It was deliberate, he knew there would be tears but it was a necessary catharsis. Other than passing over a clean handkerchief he let Elizabeth weep. Eventually the tears stopped.

“I am sorry to spring that on you, but as you can tell from your reaction, there is a lot of pain that you need to release.”

“Pain?”

“It is the right word. Do you need more time or can you answer the question?”

He was pushing but she needed to deal with this.

“Sadness, betrayal, some sense of only looking at the issue in the worst possible light. And then there are just a jumble of our things that are not directly related to the matter but still linger in my mind.”