“What have we lost?” Elizabeth arched up in some incredulity. “What about our dignity?”
“Mine is perfectly intact. I took the advice of our aunt, a lady I respect, to bring a good man with a good cause to the notice of two supposedly kind andverywealthy benefactors.”
Elizabeth sighed and kneaded her brow. “I cannot brush it off so easily as that.”
Jane lifted her shoulders and looked as though she meant to invent some other outlandish bit of reasoning when their father entered, a sealed note in his hand and a skeptical look in his eye. Without ceremony, he settled himself in the chair nearest the fire and cleared his throat.
“A note from Sir Thomas Ashford,” he announced, flicking his gaze between Jane and Elizabeth. “He invites me to dine at Netherfield this evening.”
Elizabeth felt a flutter of something—not quite hope, but certainly curiosity. “Dinner at Netherfield?”
“Indeed, I’ve no idea what occasioned it, but it appears our ‘scandalous’ neighbor has decided to make a formal attempt at civility.” He unfolded the note and squinted at the contents as if to reassure himself that he had read them aright. “Though why he would wish to waste an evening on me, I cannot imagine. He already claims to have two other visitors at present—now, let me see. A Mr. Bingley and a Mr. Darcy, both of London. Never heard of them.”
Jane smothered a beam of triumph behind her prim smile. “Oh, perhaps he does not consider it a waste at all, Papa,” she said, her voice a little too light. “It may be just a friendly attempt to strengthen ties with the neighborhood.”
“Perhaps,” Mr. Bennet agreed with a wry look, “but I hardly think your mother would approve. Though I daresay I could benefit from a change of scene. I wonder if Sir Thomas still has any of those Havana cigars he used to be so celebrated for, or if he has parted with them over the years.”
Jane folded her hands, her voice taking on a tone of practiced innocence. “Papa, I cannot help but think how inconvenient this dinner might be for you. Who will manage all the proper social pleasantries? Surely you do not expect Sir Thomas and his soldiers—assuming some of them are at table with you—to endure your wit without some form of softening influence?”
Mr. Bennet snorted. “My dear Jane, do you suggest I am incapable of carrying a conversation with a baronet? My ego hardly knows how to survive such a blow.”
Elizabeth stifled a laugh and turned to her sister. “Jane, truly, if you mean to manipulate Papa, you ought to be subtler. He is, after all, the master at the art. This is as transparent as glass.”
Jane ignored her, leaning slightly toward her father, her smile unwavering. “Not at all, Papa. I simply mean that if there are other guests present—Mr. Bingley, perhaps? Mr. Darcy? —a lady’s touch could be of service in balancing the conversation. A well-prepared hostess, after all, ensures the success of any evening.”
Mr. Bennet stroked his chin as if considering the argument. “Hmm. And do you propose that I cannot manage these gentlemen alone, without being overshadowed by their youth, fortune, and charm?”
“Not at all,” Jane said sweetly. “But surely even you cannot deny that Elizabeth and I might make the evening more… agreeable. For everyone.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Jane, you are as subtle as a sledgehammer. We have not been invited! Jane, this is not an evening with the Lucases. It is Netherfield. A formal invitation, with Sir Thomas, Mr. Bingley, and Mr. Darcy—”
“Oh, that is what makes it so interesting,” Jane replied. “Surely it would not hurt to expand our acquaintance?”
Mr. Bennet held up a hand. “Elizabeth is quite right, Jane. For my part, I hardly think Sir Thomas is in a position to refuse company, and though I ought to put my foot down, I find the prospect vastly amusing.”
“Of course, you do,” Jane wheedled. “And it isyouwho are inconvenienced by this invitation, after all. What possible grounds has Sir Thomas to protest?”
Their father grunted. “Your mother says often enough that I care too little for forwarding the interests of my daughters, and I ask you, what more promising opportunity than meeting these two gentlemen he speaks of? Perhaps they are wealthy and in search of wives, eh? Would not your mother be pleased?”
“Too pleased, Papa,” Elizabeth protested. “How do you propose to just leave with us, with no explanations?”
“Indeed, indeed. You would have to find a way past your mother. A feat which, I need hardly tell you, is beyond most mortal men.”
“But it would be easy enough if we were clever about it,” Jane insisted, turning to Elizabeth with a sparkle in her eye. “We need only tell Mama that we are dining with Charlotte. That ought to suffice.”
Elizabeth could only gape at her sister. “At Lucas Lodge! Jane, there will be snow this evening, and Papa will surely take the carriage himself.”
“As if Mama will even notice Papa is gone! She shan’t even know that he left, but will assume he is in his library like always.”
“Jane!” Elizabeth hissed. “Why, you are at it again! Papa, you see what she is attempting, do you not?”
Mr. Bennet braced both hands on the arm of his chair. “Oh, I see it plainly, Elizabeth. And yet, I find myself curious to see if she will manage to convince your mother to let you out of the house in the first place. That, my dear Jane, will be the true test of your persuasiveness.”
Jane’s lips curved in triumph, and she shot Elizabeth a look of quiet satisfaction. “I shall take that as permission to try.”
Elizabeth groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Papa, you are encouraging her.”
“I am encouraging entertainment,” Mr. Bennet replied, folding his note again to slide it into his jacket pocket. “And Jane’s attempt promises to be highly diverting.”
