His mother guides his actions? Elizabeth wondered at that, but did not comment.
Mr. Darcy looked embarrassed, as if reading her thoughts. “My father recently passed away, and she has not…not been herself.”
Elizabeth hastened to assure him that no explanation was required. “Though I must tell you that Charles is still uncertain as to whether or not he should purchase Netherfield. Perhaps at some point you will be able to make the journey to advise him. He occasionally asks my father for advice, but my parent is perhaps not the best source of information.”
“Your father owns an estate?” Mr. Darcy tried to sound casual, but he was essentially asking what her social status was; it was an awkward question and he immediately regretted it.
“He does, but he prefers his books to his duties.”
Mr. Darcy said, “I do not think Bingley will have that problem.”
“I think you are right.” Elizabeth’s grin was infectious, and Mr. Darcy found himself chuckling.
Lady Catherine thumped her stick on the floor. “Darcy!”
Mr. Darcy looked up. “Yes, Aunt Catherine?”
“Come here; I need you.”
With an apologetic look at Elizabeth, he rose and went to his aunt’s side. Lady Catherine was evidently incapable of whispering, as the entire room heard her say, “Whatever can you mean by sitting next to that nobody? Do you not see Anne waiting for you?”
Mr. Darcy thought he had never been so mortified in all his twenty-seven years, but happily, Richard leapt into action. “I will be happy to entertain Anne!” And he rose from his chair and sat himself down next to Anne. “What shall we discuss, Anne? Or, as I know you are taking pianoforte lessons, might I turn the pages while you entertain the company?”
Anne shrank back in her seat, shaking her head.
Her ladyship frowned at the Colonel, and the frown intensified as she then accosted Elizabeth. “I am given to understand from Mrs. Collins that you play, Miss Bennet.”
“Only a little, Lady Catherine. My sister Mary is the true proficient in our family.”
“Alas, your sister Mary is not with us, so it falls to you to entertain us.” Her ladyship’s tone was acerbic. That this was Elizabeth’s punishment for occupying the attention of Mr. Darcy could not be lost on anyone in the room.
Without another word, Elizabeth rose and walked to the instrument. Mr. Darcy, in agony over his aunt’s rudeness, followed her, saying that he would be happy to turn pages for her. Elizabeth rummaged through the music sheets, finding several that she thought she could perform creditably.
“I apologise for my aunt’s behaviour, Miss Bennet,” Mr. Darcy whispered. “She means well.”
“Does she?” Elizabeth whispered back. Without giving her companion an opportunity to respond, she launched into the music, spine straight and courage high. She continued to play until the company was called in to dinner.
Elizabeth was seated between Charlotte and Colonel Fitzwilliam, so she had nothing to wish for in terms of amiable dialogue. The Colonel, she quickly discovered, was an intelligent man and a willing conversationalist.
“There will be quite a lot of food,” the Colonel murmured to her. “You will want to take just a small amount of each dish.”
“I shall do my best not to offend my hostess,” she replied.
“Do not concern yourself; it is impossible for you not to offend her,” was the unexpected response.
“I beg your pardon?” Elizabeth was shocked.
“No, I must beg yours, as that was poorly phrased. Let me try again. Darcy made the mistake of speaking to you, which means you have already earned my aunt’s enmity.”
“But why? He is engaged to her daughter; a brief conversation with me can harm neither daughter nor mother.”
“Engaged? Where did you hear that?”
“I understood it to be common knowledge,” she replied, confused.
“My aunt very much wishes for the engagement, as does Anne, but it has not yet happened.”
“But surely it will?”
