This difficulty appeared to trouble them for less than a moment.
“Then we shall need two Georges,” Toby decided.
“That may prove inconvenient.”
Thomas buttered his bread with great concentration. “We shall arrange it.”
Elizabeth would have pressed further, but Mrs. Bennet entered then with Jane and Kitty close behind her, and the ordinary business of breakfast reclaimed the room. Still, she did not dismiss the exchange. The twins had not lied with any skill, but they had lied with purpose, which was always more concerning.
Perhaps it was nothing.
With Thomas and Toby, however, nothing had a remarkable talent for becoming something by noon.
Elizabeth took her seat and resolved, for the present, to leave them to their imagined battles.
She had other matters to anticipate. The Lucases were expected to call that morning, and the prospect was pleasant enough to draw her thoughts from the previous evening. Lady Lucas had, over the years, become her mother’s closest friend in the neighborhood. Their temperaments were not identical, though they suited each other well. Lady Lucas possessed good humor and local knowledge in abundance; Mrs. Bennet brought refinement, sense, and a steady kindness that invited trust without demanding it.
Their friendship had been a comfortable thing for both families.
Charlotte Lucas, in particular, had long been welcome at Longbourn. She and Elizabeth were not intimate in the manner Elizabeth was with Jane, though there was a true regard between them. Charlotte’s practical understanding of the world often balanced Elizabeth’s livelier turn of mind, and neither required the other to be other than she was.
Breakfast began.
Mr. Bennet made some remark about the assembly that prompted Lydia, who had heard only fragments of the evening’s report, to demand again a full account of every gown, every partner, and every dance. Kitty joined eagerly, though her interest was sharpened by regret.
Jane answered with patience. Mary supplied details where Jane was too modest to do so. Mrs. Bennet gave her own report with fairness, praising Mr. Bingley’s manners and finding Miss Bingley’s less deserving of admiration.
Elizabeth listened without contributing.
Her mother noticed.
When the first bustle of conversation lessened, Mrs. Bennet turned to her. “Lizzy.”
Elizabeth gave her mother her attention.
“You are not to take Mr. Darcy’s words to heart.”
The table grew a little more attentive.
Elizabeth’s fingers tightened around her cup before she deliberately relaxed them. “I have not.”
Mrs. Bennet’s gaze held hers with that perceptive steadiness Elizabeth both valued and disliked when it was directed too accurately toward herself.
“He spoke without consideration. That is a failing in him, not in you.”
“I know.”
Jane gave her a look of encouragement.
Elizabeth forced a smile. “Truly, Mama. They are already forgotten.”
It was not well done.
She knew it the moment the words were spoken.
Mrs. Bennet did not contradict her, but neither did her expression suggest belief. She merely inclined her head and returned to her breakfast, allowing Elizabeth the dignity of her claim.
Mary, perhaps seeking to assist, said, “It is often better to be slighted by a proud man than praised by a foolish one.”
