Two
Darcy
“You know,” Bingley said,staring at his plate with a dreamy smile, “I believe I have never met a more amiable woman than Miss Bennet.”
I nearly choked on my tea. Amiable was one word for it. Passive might have been another. But before I could remark on his absurd infatuation, Caroline Bingley swept in to fill the gap.
“Yes, Miss Bennet is charming, of course,” she purred, carefully buttering a piece of toast as though she hadn’t been rolling her eyes the entire night before. “So elegant, so composed.”
Composed? I glanced at Bingley, half-expecting him to challenge the blatant exaggeration, but he just nodded, eyes shining like a schoolboy. Nothing about that entire familywascomposed. Apparently, he and I had been at two entirely different assemblies.
Louisa Hurst hummed in agreement, adding, “It is unfortunate, though, about the rest of her family.”
Caroline Bingley’s knife clattered to the plate with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Yes, it is rather difficult to overlook their... boisterous nature. And that mother of hers—dear me, you could hear her voice echoing across the room like a town crier.”
I could feel Bingley’s distress rising beside me, so I stared harder at my plate and let the sisters continue. There was no need for me to interject. They would do enough damage on their own.
“And those sisters!” Miss Bingley’s voice had dropped to a scandalized whisper, though we were hardly in the company of anyone who cared. “That youngest! Lydia, was it? Absolutely wild. Flirting with every man in uniform—”
“Young girls are lively,” Bingley interrupted. He was grasping at straws now. “Miss Lydia was just... youthful enthusiasm. It’s perfectly harmless.”
I nearly rolled my eyes. One more assembly like that, and Miss Lydia Bennet would likely be causing a scandal that would be heard of from here to London.
“Harmless,” Miss Bingley repeated with a delicate sniff. “Well, I suppose you’re more forgiving than I, dear brother. I only wonder how Miss Bennet can manage to stand out amidst such a... lively family.”
I let Caroline Bingley’s words hang in the air and pretended not to hear them. Bingley sighed, looking mournfully at his plate as if it might offer him a solution.
“Darcy,” he said suddenly, turning to me as though I could save him from the conversation, “you must have noticed Miss Bennet. Was she not the very picture of elegance last night?”
I looked up from my cup, slowly. The cold tea wasn’t going to save me from this, apparently. “She was pleasant.”
“Pleasant?” Bingley echoed, looking at me as if I’d said fire was hot. “Well, of course. More than that, though. She’s delightful.”
Miss Bingley’s smile tightened. “Delightful, yes... as long as you can overlook the rest of Meryton’s rather provincial charms.”
“Provincial charms,” I muttered under my breath, eyeing Caroline across the table. I wasn’t sure whether I was impressed or irritated by her ability to turn snobbery into an art form.
But before anyone could continue the debate over Miss Bennet’s superiority despite her family, the door creaked open, and a servant entered, carrying a letter on a silver tray. He crossed the room with the expression of someone who had interrupted one too many of these charming breakfasts and handed it to me.
I frowned, unfolding the letter and reading it over, my mood shifting from mild irritation to outright confusion.
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Esq.
Darcy House, London and Pemberley House, Derbyshire
Dear Mr. Darcy,
I write to inform you of an unexpected development regarding the estate of an elderly widow, one Miss Isobel McLean, with whom you may not be acquainted. Her passing last month has brought to light a connection to your family, and as such, youhave been named the beneficiary of certain assets and properties under her estate.
This matter requires your immediate attention, and I urge you to travel to London as soon as you may to review the legal documents and finalize the transfer of inheritance. Please come at your earliest convenience so that we may discuss the particulars.
Yours faithfully,
John ArthursonSolicitorArthurson & Wilkes, London
I flipped the letter over as if the back of it might contain further enlightenment, but alas, it was as blank as it was when I broke the seal. A relative I had never heard of? No… I squinted at the letter again. It only said she had a “connection” to my family, which could mean anything under the sun. What in the world...?
“Bad news?” Bingley asked, leaning forward with the kind of wide-eyed curiosity I found mildly alarming.
