Their eyes met and held.
A tantalizing warmth stirred in her chest and rose upward until she feared it must be visible in her face.
At last she turned away, only to catch, from the corner of her eye, Mr. Wilson’s distinct frown.
The drawing room received the ladies with less comfort than usual.
Mrs. Bennet took her accustomed place. Jane sat near the fire, still recovering her strength. Mary moved toward the pianoforte but refrained from playing. Miss Bingley arranged herself with deliberate elegance, her gaze sweeping the room before settling upon Elizabeth.
“What an amusing cousin you possess,” she said.
Elizabeth folded her hands in her lap. “Mr. Wilson is certainly energetic.”
“How charitable.” Miss Bingley smiled. “Naturally, Jane and the other Bennet sisters can hardly be blamed for his manner. Connections are often uncertain, particularly in a family arrangement so… unique.”
The room grew still.
Elizabeth heard the slight intake of Jane’s breath beside her.
Mrs. Bennet turned to Miss Bingley with perfect civility. “How kind of you to be so understanding, Miss Bingley.”
Miss Bingley gaped, perhaps surprised to encounter no visible offense.
Mrs. Bennet continued, her tone smooth and entirely beyond reproach. “Family connections are indeed difficult to choose. We must accommodate them as best we can. My late husband was in trade, as is my daughters’ uncle, Mr. Gardiner, and both gentlemen conducted themselves with honor and industry.”
Miss Bingley’s smile wavered.
Mrs. Bennet tilted her head slightly. “Your own family, I believe, has prospered through similar industry. Northern trade can be exceedingly profitable when managed well.”
Mrs. Hurst’s lips twitched. Miss Bingley’s color rose.
Mrs. Bennet smiled. “How fortunate that respectable origins present no obstacle to improvements in manners, education, or consequence.”
The reproof was subtle and impossible to misunderstand.
Elizabeth discovered an urgent need to study the carpet.
Miss Bingley recovered with visible effort. “Of course.”
“Indeed,” Mrs. Bennet said pleasantly. “It is one of society’s happier truths.”
The matter was closed.
Elizabeth fervently hoped it was closed beyond reopening.
Miss Bingley opened her fan and maintained a prudent silence.
Elizabeth had never loved her mother more.
Even so, the atmosphere in the drawing room remained brittle, and Elizabeth found herself listening for every indication of movement beyond the door. She told herself that she wished only for the gentlemen to return, for the tension to ease, for conversation to recover, and for Miss Bingley to direct her attention elsewhere.
The truth was decidedly less comfortable.
She wished for Mr. Darcy.
And, more troubling still, she knew exactly why.
The withdrawal of the ladies left the dining room noticeably altered. Darcy became aware of the change soon after Elizabeth disappeared through the doorway with the others. Conversation continued, servants moved in practiced silence around the table replenishing wineglasses and removing dishes, and the room itself seemed diminished merely by her absence.
