He gave a low chuckle and inclined his head. “I fear I am not yet proficient; you were cross with me, when last we met.”
“I was, yes.” Elizabeth held his gaze, though she was certain her conflicted feelings were written plainly on her face.
He nodded thoughtfully. “And have your sentiments altered?”
“Many times,” she murmured. Elizabeth had been angry at him, and indeed at nearly every man of her acquaintance, in recent days. She had always said that she was not formed for ill humor, but she harbored a great deal of resentment and disdain on her sister and cousins’ behalf, and it had bled into her growing regard for Mr. Darcy. But where he was concerned, she had felt every possible emotion, and many that she had never experienced before.
Perhaps her answer was not satisfactory, or perhaps she lingered in her own private reverie too long; with something like desperation in his gaze, Mr. Darcy moved closer and struck one of the piano keys to regain her attention. She slid her fingers over and tapped the key beside the one he had played, her hand brushing his as she looked up again. “I have no wish to be cross with you, though I cannot repress my vexation with some others.”
He dipped his head again, his voice low, but heavy with feeling as he addressed her. “I am on your side, Miss Elizabeth, so far as duty and honor allow.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to deliver a retort but pressed her lips back together again. She resumed the song she had been playing, for fear they should attract the attention of the other guests. “And I suppose your mischief extends only as far as your honesty will allow? There was no deceit in what you told Miss Bingley?”
“You must know… I….”
Celebratory din erupted across the room, and Colonel Brandon halted in the doorway with a look of bewilderment. Mrs. Jennings flew at him in a frenzy of welcoming salutations and friendly laments over his tardiness. He was the final guest, and upon his late arrival, dinner was called at last. Elizabeth allowed Mr. Darcy to escort her into dinner, though Georgiana was on his other arm, and her cheerful chatter prevented Elizabeth from discovering what Mr. Darcy had wished to say to her.
She had seen Miss Steele, Mr. Willoughby, and Mrs. Palmer each take a turn sneaking into the dining room, presumably to move the place cards, and the result was so chaotic an arrangement that what discord soon followed was utterly inevitable.
Elizabeth began the meal well enough; she met Mr. Palmer’s younger brother, Mr. Julius Palmer, a prominent barrister who wryly offered his condolences that she should be of the same social circle as his brother and sister-in-law. He had nearly as many ready quips on what was passing around them as Mr. Willoughby, who was seated on Elizabeth’s other side. Mr. Willoughby spoke little to her and only addressed himself to Jane when the viscount’s attention was bestowed elsewhere.
Julius Palmer was an amusing enough companion for the spectacle across the table, where Lucy Steele was attempting to win back the dwindling affections of her betrothed, while courting the favor of his imperious mother. She occasionally received aid from her faithful assistant Miss Bingley – when that lady was not employing every possible method to divert the viscount’s attention from Jane. Edward Ferrars looked as if he wished to sink directly into his own grave, though his relations took no notice of this, and incessantly urged him to speak to Jane and boast of such merits that Elizabeth was sure must be imaginary.
But though Elizabeth found Edward Ferrars as compelling as a boiled potato, she began to pity his discomfort amidst the volley of insinuations and recommendations that Miss Bingley and Miss Steele exchanged with Mrs. Ferrars, who only grew louder in her praise and approbation of “the Bennet heiress.”
Jane shrank into herself, despite Viscount Bellamy and Mr. Willoughby seated on either side of her. The viscount did all he could to amplify Miss Bingley’s attempts at promoting Miss Steele to the Ferrarses, though Miss Bingley clearly took this encouragement as a personal compliment; she repaid it with sickening superciliousness.
Mr. Willoughby was always at hand with a fresh piece of roguish mockery, but Mrs. Ferrars persisted in her mercenary purpose of securing her son an heiress. Even Mr. Ferrars appeared mortified by her motives, and Miss Steele was met with such derision that she took to fawning over Colonel Brandon as a means of deflection.
By the final course before dessert, Elizabeth could bear her sister’s wretchedness no longer. Mr. Julius Palmer’s sardonic quips no longer amused her; she was grateful for his chipper wit, but her heart was full of violence. She glared at the virago down the table, ready to strike.
“But what is this I hear about your plan to leave London so soon, Miss Bennet? In a mere fortnight, I am told. I cannot believe such a report, for why ever should a pretty girl of fortune and property wish to hide herself away in the country? You have been well-favored by good society, and cannot repay your fine friends by hastening away at the height of the season. You must stay until spring,” Mrs. Ferrars commanded.
“Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, and indeed even Mrs. Gardiner are welcome to stay as long as they choose,” Mrs. Jennings agreed.
“With so many sisters, you will not be missed at Longbourn, my dear. I understand John’s impoverished half-sisters are residing there – I should think it far too crowded already, and you have every luxury here. London is very fine in the spring, though you will want to be away by summer. My daughter was married in springtime at St. George’s.”
When Mrs. Ferrars finally paused long enough to take a sip of her wine, Elizabeth seized her chance. Moved by malice and mercy alike, she smiled at Edward Ferrars and observed, “A springtime wedding – what a lovely notion. But you and Miss Steele have been engaged for so long that your plans must have grown very grand by now.”
The table fell silent for a moment, and then erupted; immediate mayhem prevailed. Half the people at the table sprang to their feet as they began to quarrel amongst themselves, the meal entirely forgotten. Elizabeth could only gape in dismay at what had, in the impulse of a moment, gone so terribly wrong.
Mrs. Ferrars demanded an explanation from her eldest son while Mrs. Jennings directed a deluge of questions at the three young ladies in her charge. Miss Bingley actually appeared impressed by what Elizabeth had done, as if her own aspirations of wickedness had never aimed so high. Miss Steele appealed to her new friend for support, earning Miss Bingley a lengthy set-down from Mrs. Ferrars that Elizabeth wished she might transcribe verbatim for her father’s edification when next she wrote.
Mr. Robert Ferrars thought it all a great joke and did not hesitate to ridicule his brother for betrothing himself toMiss Steele, who wept at Mrs. Ferrars’s castigation and finally swooned into Colonel Brandon. Fanny Dashwood demanded that her husband do something, but he only gulped his wine and called for more.
Looking exceedingly put out, Mrs. Dashwood slapped Miss Steele across the face to rouse her; Colonel Brandon made a wary attempt at defending the girl, but Miss Steele began to screech at Elizabeth with red-faced rage. “You have spoiled everything, you blusterous back-biter,” she shrieked, leaning across the table and pointing to Elizabeth. “You have ruined me, you mulish, miserable bitch!”
A hush fell over the table at Miss Steele’s language. Elizabeth’s face burned with mortification as two dozen people turned their anger, contempt, and unabashed curiosity from Miss Steele to herself. Elizabeth squared her shoulders, refusing to be cowed at such a moment. Her gaze drifted to Mr. Darcy for the first time since they had taken their places at opposite ends of the table, though she dreaded his censure.
There was only horror on his countenance, until he met her gaze. He betrayed something tender and tortured in his piercing stare, and then he was on his feet, drawing all eyes to himself. “Edward, you must resolve this – but it need not be done so publicly. Is there perhaps a parlor, Mrs. Jennings?”
But the good lady had already begun to scold Miss Steele for her infamous language, and Mrs. Ferrars raised her voice to protest that she had nothing further to say to her son or his trollop, and she would go nowhere but home, immediately. Mr. Robert Ferrars hastened to attend her, unable to conceal his delight in his elder brother’s rapid fall from favor. Edward Ferrars refused his mother’s command that he accompany her, and so Mrs. Dashwood began to demand that Miss Steele should be made to leave instead.
Elizabeth felt herself growing dizzy from all the noise around her. Mr. Darcy had drawn the attention of the other guests away from Elizabeth, and she turned to Jane, who had reached across Mr. Willoughby to rest her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. For a moment Elizabeth thought her sister was crying, but Jane was actually restraining laughter as Mr. Willoughby whispered something into her ear.
On her other side, Julius Palmer was not suppressing his own mirth, and he murmured his congratulations to Elizabeth on making the evening such a memorable one, but she paid him little heed, for Edward Ferrars stood and put his arm awkwardly around Miss Steele’s shoulders.
“I will not go back on my pledge, Mother.”
