The man wrung his hands. His eyes darted this way and that.
“But tell me,” the earl said, not appearing himself overwrought by the situation, “could we all of us together be fit in there? There are only four of them, after all.”
“Yes! Yes, you could! I hadn’t thought… You are all grace and generosity, my lord! One moment, if it please you,” the innkeeper said, hurrying over to Mr. Bigg-Wither.
Beatrice watched Mr. Bigg-Wither hear the news while her father said, “That poor fellow will have an apoplectic fit if he does not calm down. It is only dinner, after all, and they appear to be respectable people.”
Though the earl was perfectly sanguine, Mr. Bigg-Wither nodded in the affirmative but did not seem terribly enthusiastic upon hearing the solution.
The innkeeper led the other party to the earl. “Allow me the introductions,” the man said, sweat running down his brow. “Mr. Bigg-Wither, Miss Bigg, Miss Catherine Bigg, and Miss Jane Austen, this is the Earl of Westmont and…and…”
The innkeeper had trailed off and Beatrice was certain he could not recall so many names.
The earl kindly stepped in. “The Ladies Beatrice, Rosalind, Viola, Cordelia, and Juliet. And this excellent lady is Miss Mayton. Ah, here comes Lord Van Doren.”
Van Doren was, naturally, quite lost, though he executed an elegant bow to the strangers.
“These fine people are to join us for dinner, Van Doren,” the earl said. “There was a slight mishap over reservations, but it’s all been cleared up. Mr. Bigg-Wither, Miss Bigg, Miss Catherine Bigg, and Miss Austen.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance, sir. Ladies, charmed,” Van Doren said.
Beatrice eyed him. Charmed? Since when had Van Doren ever been charmed? There was something different in his tone with these strangers, and what was he doing now? He was smiling at Miss Austen. Why?
The innkeeper, who looked rather sick though his problem had been resolved, rushed toward the dining room door. “This way, gentlemen and ladies, if you please.”
*
Matthew had, atfirst, thought it deuced inconvenient that they were to be thrown together with another party. That had not lasted long, however.
While Mr. Bigg-Wither was a rather gruff sort of person, he seemed a man of good sense. Miss Bigg, Miss Catherine, and Miss Austen were very pleasant dining companions. It seemed Miss Austen was the sisters’ particular friend and visited them, since they lived local to the area.
He would not be surprised if there were some thought of an engagement between the gentleman and Miss Austen in the works, though that might be a shame. Miss Austen was gracious and quick-witted, far more so than Mr. Bigg-Wither. It did not bode well for a lady to so decidedly outrun her husband’s capacities.
If there had been anything unpleasant, it was to note how uncomfortably the Benningtons were shown in comparison to these three refined ladies.
Matthew realized that he’d got rather used to how eccentric they all were, though he’d also got used to continually pointing it out.
Now, a new realization came over him—it was something else altogether to regard the expressions of strangers and observe the family through their eyes, and the view was far worse.
It was likely the sort of reactions they could expect in Town.
Just now, Miss Mayton was relaying the story of poor, doomed Gregorio. As Miss Austen looked on in horrified fascination, Matthew had a great wish to whisper across the table.Do not be concerned for Gregorio, he will die as they all do, and he is entirely an invention of her deranged mind.
“And so you see,” Miss Mayton said, “I accused him of being too proud but in the end I realized it was just my own prejudice.”
“Do tell us theveryend, though,” Rosalind said.
“Goodness. There’s more,” Miss Austen said softly.
Sadly, thereismore, Miss Austen, Matthew thought. So unfortunately much more.
“Well, if you must hear it,” Miss Mayton said, appearing pleased. “Once I understood what a fool I’d been, I raced to his house. If only I had got there a minute or two sooner, we would even now be wed happily. As it was, I found Gregorio in the library, having just applied a deadly blow to himself with a sword.”
Miss Mayton sighed contentedly.
Miss Austen laid down her fork, her eyebrows knitting together. Miss Bigg and Miss Catherine stared wide-eyed at one another.
Mr. Bigg-Wither said, “Why? What rational person stabs themselves?”
