“No, nor can I. She has a pleasing enough figure, but her hair will not do at all. She is dark rather than fair, and she lacks height.”
“Her hair curls, Trixie. What could Mr. Darcy perceive in a woman with such unruly hair?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. They were speaking of her. She glanced toward the countess and discovered Lady Helen’s eyes bright with amusement and her expression positively feline.
Elizabeth relaxed somewhat. Evidently, such attacks formed an expected part of society. They waited in silence for the privy.
“In some respects, she favors you, Trixie. Did you observe it?”
“There exists no comparison. I am more handsome than she, taller besides, and more ample in figure. She amounts to nothing beside me. Why he selected her over me, I cannot begin to imagine.”
Elizabeth stiffened, but Lady Helen rested a hand upon her arm and shook her head.
At length, the two ladies emerged from behind the privacy screen and came face to face with Elizabeth and the Countess.
The less attractive of the pair curtsied. “Lady Helen, I had not realized you had entered.”
“No? Ladies, permit me to introduce my niece. Elizabeth, this is Lady Agnes and Miss Honeyfield. Ladies, this is Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Now then, you will excuse us.”
Elizabeth followed Lady Helen in deathly silence, thinking that if looks alone possessed the power to kill, she would already lie dead upon the floor. She waited on this side of the privacy screen and watched the two ladies depart the room.
“They are gone, Aunt. Did one of those young ladies have an understanding with my husband?”
“No, dear. Miss Honeyfield is the lady you already interrogated my nephew about. She is attractive and accomplished, but she would have condemned Fitzwilliam to a miserable life. Her temper lacks all restraint, and such a disposition never improves a woman.”
Elizabeth raised a brow. “I believe she would suit Lord Dunwich admirably. Angry women appear to attract him, my lady.”
The countess emerged from behind the screen. “Speaking of his lordship, let us hurry. I have no wish to miss my nephew when he returns.”
“I have no need of the privy, Aunt.”
“Then let us go.”
The ladies waited for another half hour before Mr. Darcy returned to them. The instant Elizabeth caught sight of him, she rose, anxiety tightening her chest. He offered her a smile. No blood marked his face, nor did he appear injured. Then her gaze fell upon his gloves. Blood stained the cuff of one.
She crossed swiftly to him. He settled an arm about her waist and escorted her back to his aunt. Together, they resumed their seats.
“Well, nephew, what of Lord Dunwich?”
“Apparently, he does not frequent Jackson’s, Aunt Helen, for he displays neither skill nor experience in the art of boxing. I imagine he prefers to spend his hours in more disreputable pursuits.”
Elizabeth rested her hand upon his wrist. “Are your hands injured, Fitzwilliam? Shall we return home so I may cleanse your wounds? I can prepare a poultice to prevent inflammation. I see blood, sir.”
“That blood belongs to him, darling. My knuckles suffered a few grazes, but I believe no bones are broken.”
The countess asked, “And Lord Dunwich?”
“They are loading him into his carriage.”
“Was he badly injured?” Elizabeth asked.
“No permanent injury, but he will not show his face for at least a fortnight.”
The two women stared at Mr. Darcy, scarcely able to believe he had conducted himself with such violence.
“He taunted me, Elizabeth. What he said was too vile to repeat. Unfit for the ears of a gently bred woman. I silenced him after his first words. You need not fear him any longer.”
Lady Helen raised a brow. “But you did not mortally injure him?”
