Jane smiled faintly. "That sounds delightful."
Elizabeth stabbed her needle through the linen with more force than necessary. "Do you mean they have actually sent an invitation?"
Mrs. Gardiner glanced up, mild surprise flickering in her eyes. "No, not directly. It is more in the way of a general reception. We might attend, if you girls are eager for an evening out."
Elizabeth made a show of considering it. "I suppose it could be amusing."
In truth, she could hardly bear the thought of another evening spent waiting, scanning every face in the hope of an encounter that ought to have been arranged days ago.
Surely, surely, Darcy had enough sense to have called by now. Their alliance—such as it was—depended on some form of communication.
How could he have assumed she would stumble across him by accident?
How irresponsible. How typical. How—
She bit the inside of her cheek.
If she were fair—and she had little inclination to be so—she must allow that she had proposed this absurd plan to a properly astonished Mr. Darcy without specifying how they would manage their meetings in Town. She had assumed he would manage it.
She had, she reflected grimly, probably assumed too much.
Jane set aside her embroidery and studied her cooling tea cup. "Perhaps we shall make some new acquaintances at the musical evening," she said with determined brightness. "It would be pleasant to know more people in Town."
Elizabeth forced a smile. "Yes. Pleasant."
And necessary.
If Darcy would not make himself known, she would have to search him out in some other way.
Without appearing to search, of course.
She looked up, adopting what she hoped was an air of casual inquiry. "Have you heard of any other events, Aunt? Salons, soirées, anything of that kind?"
Mrs. Gardiner tapped her papers thoughtfully. "The Baxters host a small gathering on Thursday evenings. Very literary. Not precisely lively, but respectable."
Elizabeth smothered a sigh. She had no particular desire to be quizzed on her opinions of Cicero before a gathering of well-meaning strangers.
Still—
Strangers were better than no opportunity at all.
She folded her mending with uncharacteristic care. "It sounds charming."
Mrs. Gardiner smiled, clearly pleased by Elizabeth's interest. "We shall see if there is room for guests this week."
Elizabeth returned the smile with equal parts gratitude and dread.
Her world was narrowing, closing in with quiet, invisible walls, and all she could do was smile and pretend she did not notice.
Somehow, some way, she would find him. And heaven help him if he made her work too hard at it.
The clock ticked in the corner, slow and ponderous. Somewhere down the corridor, the faint murmur of men's voices rose and fell — Uncle Gardiner entertaining business callers in his study.
Elizabeth set her folded mending aside and rose to pour herself a fresh cup of tea, if only for the occupation. The day stretched ahead, heavy with too much waiting and too few certainties.
Another knock echoed faintly from the hall, followed by the familiar cadence of the footman’s voice announcing a new visitor.
A deeper voice answered — male, indifferent — and the sound of tall boots on the wooden floor receded toward the study.
