Shropshire?
She had never been to Shropshire.
She knew nothing about Shropshire.
And her accent—it would be all wrong.
Think.Think.
Her breath faltered slightly, but she forced a composed expression, flicking a glance toward Mr. Bennet. He raised an eyebrow, his expression curious, as if to say: “Well, go on then.”
Elizabeth’s pulse fluttered violently in her throat. She needed to answer. She needed to not ruin everything within the first five minutes.
Her lips parted— “Well—of course,” she said, keeping her tone as even as possible.
That was a start.
She swallowed, scrambling for something plausible. “…But I have been in Hampshire these last three years, so I have seen… most of them… but seldom. In fact, I… expect I even sound rather different from the rest of the family.”
Good. That was believable.
Mrs. Bennet beamed. “Oh, how lovely! And your dear parents—how do they do?”
Elizabeth’s mouth went dry.
She did not have parents in Shropshire. A mother in Devonshire whom she had not seen in two years or better and a father who… She swallowed.
Her heartbeat drummed in her ears. But she had to answer. Quickly.
“Mama sends her love,” she said, watching Mr. Bennet closely for any sign of disapproval.
He gave none.
Encouraged, she pressed on. “Papa is ever busy with… his… fishing.”
A pause.
A long one.
“Trout fishing,” she clarified. “He… ties his own lures.”
Mr. Bennet’s lips twitched.
Oh.
This was a game to him.
Elizabeth wanted to scowl, but instead, she smoothed her expression into a demure smile.
Mrs. Bennet, happily oblivious, beamed. “Well! That is charming, is it not, girls?” she said, gesturing to her daughters. “Come now, let us have the proper introductions. This is my eldest, Jane.”
Elizabeth focused on that name, trying to anchor herself.
The quiet one—the one she had liked in Meryton—stepped forward, offering a smile so serene and warm that Elizabeth felt some of her tension ease.
Jane curtsied, and Elizabeth did the same.
“And here we have Mary, and then Kitty and Lydia.” The serious one, the excitable one, and the impossibly young, impishly grinning one.
