“Indeed,” Caroline Bingley sniffed in disdain after leaving her wrap at the door, “I am abominably sorry we came. Why, look at the gowns of these third-rate ladies, and the attire of the ‘gentlemen!’ Pray assure me I must not stand up with any farmers with soiled fingernails.” She stood beside Darcy now, her lip curled in fashionable distaste as she surveyed the room.
“Even the cloak room was a disgrace,” she sniffed. “Why, it is full of nothing but rumour and ill-bred gossip! I have no doubts of rodents as well.”
Darcy’s eyes still roved the room, as he paid Miss Bingley as little notice as possible. “Cloakrooms in London are rife with malicious talk. I daresay, perhaps they have set the example.”
“Oh, but you have never heard the like of this backward country set! It must prove what a simple, unsophisticated little village this is. Why, the whole talk is of how some young chit, a Miss Bennet was her name, went off one evening for amusement and was found the next morning at a public-house, playing cards. They say shehad been at it all night and had a pile of shillings and three impoverished companions to her credit.”
Darcy jerked to face her. “A Miss Bennet, did you say?”
“Oh! You must have heard the same report, I see. She is perfectly ruined, of course, and her sisters with her.”
“Her sisters?” Darcy’s chest was quaking in agitation, and his fists clenched.
“Oh, indeed! Do you remember what I said of rodents, Mr Darcy? Apparently they breed in Hertfordshire. Five daughters, and no sons at all! I have heard even that one of this strumpet’s elder sisters was later found in some disgrace of her own, but of course, I could not dignify the report by feigning interest enough to enquire further. But really, playing cards at a public house, all night with strange men! Can you fancy it?”
An elder sister disgraced? His head shook in denial. Had some report of Elizabeth already been spread about her home village? He must find her, and rapidly! Darcy gazed mutely about the room until he found a face which might answer for his present wants. Ladies dancing, ladies sitting on the edge of the room with fans over their faces, matrons chattering in the corner… and Miss Charlotte Lucas, just being led from the floor.
“I declare, they might have hired an orchestra that could play in harmony,” Miss Bingley sneered. “We are a long way from Grosvenor Square, are we not, Mr Darcy? I fancy you did not relish coming here this evening to watch the swineherds stomp some milkmaid’s toes with their muddy boots.”
“No,” he answered with forced steadiness. “Much to my relief, we are nowhere near Grosvenor Square, and that is not the reason I came here this evening.” He gave her a brisk nod and walked in the direction of Sir William, and it was with some wicked delight that he heard her indignant huff.
“Sir William,” he bowed upon reaching that gentleman, “may I importune you for an introduction to your elder daughter?”
The gentleman looked as if he would fall over from delight, but he collected himself tolerably well and made the honourable presentation. Charlotte Lucas was a plain girl, and that was a generous assessment. Her girlhood looked to be long gone, and she had the aspect of one who was looking down the long shadow of spinsterhood with resignation. She smiled and performed her curtsy, but unlike her father, there was no mercenary twinkle in her eyes when she heard his name. She seemed a sensible young woman… exactly the sort his Elizabeth might befriend.
“May I offer you some refreshment, Miss Lucas?”
She sighed in obvious relief. “I thank you, Mr Darcy, for I am much in need of it. I have seldom danced so much in my life as I have tonight!”
“Then I shall spare you the exercise. Perhaps, as I am a stranger to the region, I might impose upon you to tell me something of the neighbourhood.”
“This is your first visit to Hertfordshire, Mr Darcy?”
“It is. However, I have been longing to visit, for I recently made an acquaintance who lives in the area. I was hoping to meet with my friend again, while in residence.”
“Indeed? Is your friend here this evening?”
He smiled. “I have only just entered the room, but I find it doubtful.”
“Perhaps it is someone I know, in which case I would be pleased to give you what information I may.”
“I think it likely.”
“Well, sir,” she pursed her lips, a mannerism so like his Elizabeth that it might have been learnt from her. “If you will but give me the name of the gentleman—or lady—I may tell you whether or not they are to be found here.”
He was silent a moment, amused at the coy tease and the sensible, easy tone in which it was delivered. Yes, surely this must betheCharlotte, friend of Elizabeth! He swallowed and dared to confess the fateful name. “Thelady’sname is Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”
Miss Lucas raised her eyebrows, and a little puckering of her lips betrayed her as an interested party. “Lizzy? You say you met her in Town?”
Darcy felt his palms begin to ache and sweat, and anyone looking on would surely have noted the burning flush he felt spreading across his face. “Indeed, last week,” he managed. His voice did not crack, did it?
“Oh, how very interesting,” she mused. “My poor friend has been most unfortunate.”
“Unfortunate? How is this?” he asked, altogether a bit too sharply. “Have there been ill tidings of her, or unfavourable talk? There was an uncharitable relation, I am to understand.”
“Poor Lizzy! It has been a dreadful affair, with her family and Mr Collins and all that. She never did wish to marry him, but recent days have been worse even than she feared.”
“Mr Collins! You do not mean that there is still some connection there?” His heart began a series of turns, flipping incautiously against his breastbone until he was certain Miss Lucas would perceive a fluttering of his cravat. He had thought her safe from that tyrannical buffoon! Had he followed her from London, exposed her, and made demands? Was she publicly betrothed, after all?
