Lydia leaned forward eagerly. “The machine breakers?”
“The very same. Frightful business for everyone involved.”
Mary leaned forward with interest. “Were you in danger?”
Mr. Wilson appeared pleased by the question.
“My dear Miss Mary, there were moments when I believed half Lancashire intended to burn itself to the ground.”
Kitty gasped.
Elizabeth caught Jane hiding what appeared suspiciously like a smile behind her wineglass.
Mr. Wilson continued, apparently encouraged by his audience.
“One night they came near the western mill with clubs and hammers enough to destroy every frame we possessed. Had I not reached the yard beforehand—”
“You stopped them yourself?” Lydia interrupted.
“Well, not wholly alone,” Mr. Wilson admitted. “Though someone had to speak sense into the lot of them before soldiers became involved.”
“And did they listen?” Kitty asked.
“Eventually. Men are easier managed when one understands what drives them.”
Mr. Bennet lifted his brows slightly. “An observation applicable well beyond mills, I suspect.”
Mr. Wilson laughed heartily. “Very true!”
Elizabeth listened politely while observing the rest of the table.
Mary appeared thoroughly absorbed.
Kitty and Lydia exchanged fascinated glances every few minutes.
Jane, though attentive, seemed less engaged by the subject matter itself than pleased by the general harmony of the evening.
The twins, however, had progressed from suspicion to outright hostility.
Thomas stared at Mr. Wilson with the expression of a young knight witnessing an invading army. Toby, ordinarily incapable of sustained silence through any meal, had scarcely spoken three words since dinner began.
Elizabeth caught Thomas glaring openly when Mr. Wilson leaned slightly across the table to address her directly.
“And you, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked. “Do you never tire of country life after spending your early years in town?”
“I prefer the country,” she replied.
“A sensible preference. Though I suppose I cannot wholly agree after making my fortune elsewhere.”
“You enjoy Lancashire, then?”
“I enjoy success,” he answered frankly. “Lancashire simply happened to provide it.”
The directness of the statement once again made an impression on her. A gentleman raised wholly within fashionable society might have phrased the sentiment differently, ambition disguised beneath polish.
Mr. Wilson saw no reason to disguise it.
Mrs. Bennet interrupted gently before he could continue further. “We must remember Wednesday’s dinner arrangements. The Netherfield party is expected at four.”
