But his sister shook her head. “The note would have said so. It is not like her to be so…” she searched for the right word.
“Brusque?” her brother supplied.
“Yes, brusque. I think there is something wrong.”
“You wished to go to Almack’s, did you not? We will go together, and perhaps between us we can learn what is behind this.”
***
The Colonel was breaking his fast at Matlock House when his mother joined him. He rose, seated her, and courteously prepared a plate for her: scrambled eggs with herbs, two slices of bacon, and a small apple tart.
“You are very polite this morning,” his mother observed.
“I hope I am always polite, Mother,” he replied.
“You are; which makes me all the more curious as to why you argued – again! – with Miss Bingley last night.”
The Colonel shook his head. Had he really thought his mother would drop the subject of Miss Bingley?
“Did you think I missed the byplay between the two of you at dinner?” the Countess demanded. “You spoke with her quite intensely, whispering together, and then she stared at you in some sort of shock, turned her head away, and never so much as glanced at you for the remainder of the evening. No, in fact, she spoke with Mr. Gardiner, a man I think she never so much as acknowledged in the whole of her life! Not that there is anything wrong with the Gardiners,” she allowed. “But what happened with Miss Bingley?”
The Colonel decided that a counter-attack was in order. “Why did you have me seated beside her?” he demanded. “You know how very much I dislike her!”
“That is precisely why,” the Countess declared. “You are the second son of an Earl, Richard. Your manners are expected to be impeccable! What does liking or disliking have to do with manners? I was giving you the opportunity to behave towards her as you should, and you quite evidently failed utterly!”
The Colonel sighed.
The Countess pressed on. “What on earth did you say to the poor girl?”
“The poor girl!” The Colonel scoffed. “As if her manners are any better than mine!”
“Her manners are not the point here; the aristocracy is required to demonstrate good manners to their inferiors. And, if I am honest, I thought her manners last night quite acceptable. She was properly dressed, and she entertained the company. She plays very well, you know, and blushed quite becomingly when I complimented her.”
The Colonel gave up; he knew when a retreat was in order. He spread his hands wide. “Yes, I was extremely and unpardonably rude. I have absolutely no idea what came over me.”
Really. A new idea blossomed in the Countess’ active mind. “Hmmm,” she murmured.
“And what does ‘hmmm’ mean, Mother?”
“You were unpardonably rude to her and you have no idea what came over you? Is that it?”
“Yes; what of it?”
The Countess stared at her son incredulously. Was she the only person in the family who recalled how the tumultuous courtship of Darcy and Elizabeth had begun? “Well, what will you do to make it up to her?”
“She asked for flowers for a week to make up for my insulting her at the ball; I cannot imagine what it would take for her to forgive my words at the dinner.”
“At least arrange to have flowers sent,” his mother advised him. “Lilies symbolize an apology, as do blue hyacinths. As for your words at dinner, well, I have an idea. I do not know if I can accomplish it or not, but I will try.”
And with those enigmatic words, the Countess bent her head to her breakfast.
***
A lovely bouquet of lilies arrived at Bingley House that afternoon, sent from the most expensive and exclusive florist in all of London. The card read:
Miss Bingley,
I cannot begin to tell you how very sorry I am.
