Darcy added, thinking it was the proper thing to do, “While not a definite plan, as a usual matter I come to London for the season in March and leave early in June, as I do not like to spend more than three months in the capital at once.”
“My father dislikes London for the noise, smell, and expense,” Elizabeth replied, stiffly. “What is your reason?”
“I would not say IdislikeLondon. Merely that it ought to be savored in small bites. In truth the three months I am present for the season is twice the length I like, but it is the bestopportunity to meet with my acquaintances from around the kingdom.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I see.”
There was a cold silence around the table for a minute.
“Ah, speaking of Georgiana,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “In her most recent letter her French has improved greatly. By this time, I would say it is hardly worse than my own.”
“She still has a fair bit to improve in grammar.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Tu as toujours été meilleur que moi à cela."
"C'est seulement l'un des nombreux domaines dans lesquels je suis supérieur,” was Darcy’s smiling reply.
From the way that Elizabeth looked between them with a slight frown, Darcy suspected that she could not follow the French. Did she even read the language? — another one of the essential accomplishments that she lacked.
Hesitatingly, frightened of what he would hear about the woman he’d tied himself to, Darcy asked, “Did you follow the French?”
“Only ‘je suis’, and ‘toujours’. I can read French passingly well, but it seems I cannot speak it at all. It has been years since we had a master in the language.”
Elizabeth studied her plate’s delicate blue decorations with a fierce frown.
Notsobad as he’d thought. But not near what his wife should be. “I will have Georgiana’s master in French also give you lessons when we reach Pemberley.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips tightly together, and then after a second forced a stiff smile. Darcy had an unhappy sense in his stomach. Elizabeth did not meet his eyes.
“Ah, well, an excellent breakfast. But I now ought to head to guildhall to meet a provisioner.” Colonel Fitzwilliam pushed himself away from the table and stood. “I must make forlornfarewells. My heart cannot bear to break with your presences, yet stern duty requires. Etcetera, etcetera. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Darcy — and I say that sincerely.”
“We were going to walk that way,” Darcy replied. “If you still wish to go by Paternoster Row.”
“No.” Elizabeth frowned at the harshness of her own reply.
Darcy felt a stab of rejection. She was saying no to him. Now that they were married, she only wished to say ‘no’ to every opportunity she had.
He brushed away that nonsense though as Elizabeth added, “Now that I know we will only be present in London for a week, I wish to immediately call on my… acquaintances.”
Darcy looked at her.
She’d meant to say something else.
Why was she seeming angry with him? He cast his mind back over the conversation. Her mood had changed when he’d made it clear that they would not speak with Bingley during this week. Was she really so obsessed with landing his friend for her sister that his protection of Bingley was enough to put her in a sour mood?
“In any case,” Darcy said stiffly, “I will expect to see you at dinner.”
“You may depend uponthat,” she replied.
No doubt the acquaintances she meant to call on were persons wholly unsuitable to be acknowledged by his wife, and he ought to nip the matter in the bud right now by demanding information and forbidding her from meeting them. But there was simply something about the way that Elizabeth had a cold expression, and how Colonel Fitzwilliam was watching, curious to see what their marriage was like, that made it hard to open his mouth to tell her that.
He didn’t want the divisions, and the way that he had notyet had an opportunity to clearly dictate to Elizabeth the terms on which she was to live to be visible to his cousin, and through him to his uncle and the rest of their family.
Besides, even if she reaffirmed her acquaintance with unsuitable people, they would not be so wholly unsuitable as to be more than a mild embarrassment.
After a set of parting words, Colonel Fitzwilliam and Darcy walked out to the cold street. An overcast ugly December day. A vicious breeze blew in from the direction of the harbor.
“Fine lady, fine lady,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he rubbed his hands together for warmth and pulled his coat around him tighter. “Whole thing came off fast — my man collected some rumors, you know.”
