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“That cannot possibly be true,” Mrs. Gardiner said in a mild tone.
“It is, Mamma.”
The maid entered with more tea, and Miss Elizabeth rose to carry Miss Bingley’s cup to her aunt.
Mrs. Gardiner did not even raise her head. “Sit, Lizzy. Cora will carry the cup back.”
Miss Elizabeth obeyed.
Master Edward tapped the chessboard, bringing Darcy’s attention back to the game. “Am I losing?”
Darcy nodded once. “Yes.”
Miss Elizabeth made a small sound, but Darcy ignored it and made his own move.
Everyone settled back into their various occupations. Mrs. Gardiner poured. At the smaller table, Miss Margaret was blotting the address on her card while Miss Eleanor tried to determine whether her short length of ribbon might somehow be tied around a small wooden box. Master Henry recovered his soldiers and disappeared beneath the chess table again, leaving only the occasional glimpse of a small shoe and several irregular strikes to the legs of Darcy’s chair.
Near the fire, Bingley sat with Miss Bennet, as he had most of the call. Whatever subject they had begun with appeared to have become less important than the conversation itself.
Miss Bingley accepted her tea from the maid—Cora, he thought Miss Elizabeth had called her—and adjusted herself carefully against the cushions.
That movement caught Master Henry’s attention, for a moment later he emerged from beneath the table again, his wooden soldiers clutched one in each hand. He crawled on his fists and knees until he was immediately before her. Then he rose, stared, and asked, “Why do you need so many pillows?”
Miss Bingley blanched.
“Mr. Hinshaw was very particular about Miss Bingley’s arrangement,” Miss Elizabeth said, and Darcy thought she sounded rather anxious about it.
“Why?” Master Henry asked. It seemed to be his favourite word.
“For my back,” Miss Bingley said.
“Yes, for her back,” Mrs. Gardiner agreed. “No more questions, Henry. You are being quite impertinent today.”
Something had occurred, but he had no idea what. Bingley, apparently, had noticed nothing at all.
“Is the cushion uncomfortable, Caro? Shall I move it?”
“No!”
Every person in the room looked at her.
Miss Bingley drew a breath. “Thank you, Charles, but everything is exactly as Mr. Hinshaw recommended.”
“Very good, then,” Bingley said.
Master Edward tapped the chessboard again. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes?”
“Am I still losing?”
Darcy cleared his throat and nodded again. “Yes. Very much so.”
This time Miss Elizabeth laughed. Not loud or long, but it made Master Edward frown at the board, consider for a moment, and move his knight instead.
A better move.
Darcy took his bishop.
