As if he did not have enough to deal with already.
He exhaled sharply, pushing back from his desk. Between the earl’s ridiculous schemes, the growing unrest in Derbyshire, Georgiana’s struggles, and now Wickham lurking about Derby, the world seemed determined to pull him in a hundred different directions at once.
And now, thanks to his uncle, he had another problem in the form of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Chapter Nine
Elizabeth trailed behind heraunt as they stepped into Madame Laroux’s Dress Emporium, the soft hum of conversation and rustling silk filling the air. She had been here once before, shortly after arriving in London, when Mrs. Gardiner had insisted she needed a new spencer for the northern tour. At the time, it had been an entirely pleasant visit—rows of exquisite muslins, neatly stacked ribbons, mannequins draped in the latest fashions from Paris. More importantly, Mrs. Gardiner had exchanged pleasantries with other patrons, and Elizabeth had observed how easily her aunt moved through these circles, a merchant’s wife who, while not being of the gentry, had a natural warmth that drew people in.
Now, however, everything felt… different.
The moment they entered, Elizabeth felt the shift, subtle but unmistakable. Several women who had been chatting near the lace counter turned just slightly, their gazes flicking toward her with mild but unmistakable interest. One of them, Mrs. Winthrop, whom Elizabeth recognized from Lady Matlock’s party, was standing beside a display of gloves, speaking in quiet tones to her companion. A week ago, Mrs. Winthrop had smiled at Mrs. Gardiner and engaged her in conversation. Today, she merely gave a small, cool nod before turning away.
Mrs. Gardiner hesitated for half a beat—so briefly that Elizabeth might have missed it had she not been watching—and then carried on as if nothing had happened.
Elizabeth, however, felt a prickle of unease crawl up her spine, as if the very air in the shop had turned a degree colder.
They had become a curiosity.
She clenched her jaw and moved to the table where silk ribbons were laid out, absently running her fingers over a length of deep green satin. In the grand scheme of things, she had always known that one misstep could undo years of careful social maneuvering. Thatwas the nature of society, was it not? But knowing it and experiencing it firsthand were two very different things.
A soft laugh from the opposite side of the room made her glance up.
Miss Ashton, another woman she remembered seeing at the earl’s party, was standing near a display of lace trims. She was speaking to a friend, their heads slightly inclined toward each other. Whatever she said was spoken too low to be heard, but a moment later, her friend lifted a delicate hand to her mouth and giggled behind it.
Elizabeth stiffened.
Her first instinct was to march over and demand to know what was so amusing. But she gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain where she was.
“You see it now, do you not?” Mrs. Gardiner murmured at her side. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that Elizabeth had never heard before.
“I do.” She tugged slightly at the green ribbon, as if testing its weight. “It seems I have become quite the object of interest. I wonder if it was because of tripping and being seen with a treasonous note, or for dancing with a certain single man of large fortune from Derbyshire.”
Mrs. Gardiner made a thoughtful noise, picking up a bolt of fine muslin and examining the embroidery. “Both, I should imagine. A week ago, I might have greeted half the ladies here and had a pleasant conversation while you looked at ribbons.” She flicked a glance toward Mrs. Winthrop, who had not looked in their direction again. “Today, however, it seems I have misplaced my ability to be seen.”
Elizabeth swallowed. It was one thing to suspect that her presence had damaged her uncle’s prospects. It was another thing entirely to witness the effects of it, to see her aunt—gracious, kind, well-liked Mrs. Gardiner—shut out because of it.
“I am sorry,” she murmured.
Mrs. Gardiner sighed and set the muslin down. “It is not your doing alone, Lizzy. But I do wish to know what you intend to do about it.”
Elizabeth blinked, startled. “What I intend—? Aunt, I can hardly force these women to unbend. Surely, you do not mean to suggest I grovel for their approval?”
“Certainly not,” Mrs. Gardiner said crisply. “But neither do I think hiding away will serve you.”
Elizabeth pursed her lips. “And what do you propose?”
Mrs. Gardiner met her gaze. “If people are going to watch you, then give them something worth watching.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply—but before she could, a new voice cut into their conversation.
“Well, if it is not Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth turned just in time to see Lady Greaves approaching, her expression poised, her smile just a little too sharp.
Elizabeth curtsied politely, though her body remained stiff. “Lady Greaves.”
“My dear,” the older woman said, looking her up and down. “I was quite surprised to see you here today. After all, one might have thought that after last week’s… excitement, you would prefer to be elsewhere.”
