Would that this conversation might end. For all Lord Brayburn’s well-meaning defense of the Americans, Mr. Thomson would not be moved in his opinion, save deeper into his… and with far less tolerance for the Darcy family’s American ties.
“Well. I cannot quarrel with such a view,” Lord Brayburn smiled, “Mr. Thomson may not agree, still, I should think even he sees the war as a waste of resources better serving conflicts closer to home… and our brave men.”
Blustering Mr. Thomson stood, “Indeed, I do, but as I said before, those coarse Americans deserve to learn that they are not indomitable. And that,” he added as he turned toward Darcy, “they would do well to remember their place. To recall they should tarry far from our bright shores.”
“Bright? Only a few stretches of coast might lay claim to that,” Lord Brayburn chuckled, “And even then, not so greatly on days such as we are having. Will it even cease to snow, I wonder?”
“It was a metaphor.”
“A metaphor? I see, well then, we need not worry about the snow,” Lord Brayburn smirked; Mr. Thomson’s face reddening as he turned to depart.
Mr. Thomson’s vitriol would be fierce in the coming days.
Fierce indeed.
Chapter 16
Staffordshire, England – 1812 – Day 5
Donning pelisse, gloves, boots and bonnets, the three Bennet sisters stepped into the fleeting sun, the world bathed in the white of days of snow.
“If only those clouds might stay far away,” Jane sighed after their brief walk began to turn cold, the clouds playing games with the sun as the wind grew bitter and blustery. “There will be no riding, that is certain.”
“My body still aches from the last time; however, give me a few more days and I shall gladly join Heather in a ride again. Oh Jane, do not frown. As disappointing as this may be, there are other things we might do… we have yet to tackle the maze, for example. Perhaps Mr. Bingley and his friends might join us–I imagine that would please you,” Elizabeth said as she eyed her sister, her cold-pinked cheeks disguising any blush.
“That would be amusing,” Mary agreed as they turned toward the garden. “Especially if we took turns to find who can traverse it the fastest–no running allowed for Jane’s sake.”
“What wits I have for sisters,” Jane huffed.
“Look,” Mary said, changing the subject as she pointed to the carriage coming up the drive, “I did not think there were to be any more guests.”
“Nor did I,” Elizabeth mused, their curiosity pulling them toward the conveyance as the driver brought the horses to a stop, the formidable facade towering above.
Stilling some feet from the carriage, Elizabeth observed the lady who alighted with interest; her outfit rather grand for travel and her head held high.
Lifting her face further still as she glanced at the three sisters, the lady made her way to the door, the butler requesting her name before he would even let her through.
“Do you not know who I am?” she sneered at the man. “I am Miss Caroline Bingley! My brother is staying here. If you continue to have me stand here in the cold, I assure you, you shall pay for your mockery!”
The butler reluctantly letting her pass hurried behind her, no doubt wishing to come upon his mistress before Miss Bingley did.
“Have you ever?” Elizabeth laughed. “I feel sorry for poor Mr. Lombart; few could defend home or person against such a creature.”
“How can Mr. Bingley have such a sister?” Mary awed as they stared at the closed door.
“A few years ago I might have thought the trip had distressed her,” Jane frowned, “I think now either she is having the worst day of her life, or she is very sour indeed.”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth answered, “I fear the latter; although it is a blessing, perhaps, that you see what sort of family Mr. Bingley has.”
“I cannot deny that I understand your meaning,” Jane said as she turned back toward the garden. “I am more fond of him than of any man I have met, and that feeling grows with each encounter… but we have only known one another for a matter of days. Miss Bingley’s presence is a blessing in that I might find more time to consider my heart, and his character. If he does not take her in hand for behavior such as we witnessed, then what sort of father might he be?”
“And if he does take her in hand? Should she continue to behave as she just did, of course,” Mary questioned as they entered the garden, her fingers coming up to wipe the snow from a branch as Jane considered her answer.
Lips curling, Jane at last answered, “Then I would be overjoyed should he propose.”
Breath catching, Elizabeth pretended to observe a nearby plant.
It was as serious as that. So soon?
