Page 7 of Her Affections and Wishes

Julia and her mother hesitated. “I have two sisters who will come out in the autumn,” Julia said with a huff. “They are eighteen and sixteen, and refuse to wait any longer.”

“But you have a younger brother, Sir Edward, Lady Catherine says. I cannot imagine that when he is grown, he will throw you out,” she added with a smile.

Julia glared. “Who wants to live as a brother’s drudge?”

That was true. “There is still time to find a man who suits you.”

“My sisters are prettier and more accomplished than me. I will not be passed over,” she added firmly.

“Then you had better be married by the end of summer,” insisted Lady Metcalfe as she pierced her daughter with a glare. Elizabeth’s jaw dropped, and Lady Metcalfe added more brightly, “I think Mr Henry Tessier the more sensible choice. Henry would be easier to manage than Sir John.”

“Would he even know what to do with me?” Julia muttered.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes, wondering if she had imagined the innuendo. She did not know Julia well enough to know what she meant to imply, and it would be improper to infer anything. Assuming she knew one’s character quickly was one of the ways she had wronged Darcy, after all.

“He is rather young,” her mother agreed. “I knew he was younger than you, but he is not worldly, is he? And there is no time to wait for him to ripen.”

“Perhaps you will meet someone down for the races,” Elizabeth said, “or at the assembly, or⁠—”

“No, no, I need time with someone, so someone residing in the same house would be more convenient. Even I cannot expect a man to propose at first sight.”

Julia stood to admire herself in the mirror, and Elizabeth suspected part of her did expect men to fall at her feet.

“Are you not considering Mr Travers?” she asked. He was about forty, but Julia seemed more concerned with marriage than the man. Eighteen or twenty years older was not an unheard-of age difference. Julia could secure a baronet’s title now with Sir John Whitney, or a barony in the future with Mr Travers.

“No,” both women said, and Elizabeth drew back. Lady Metcalfe forced a smile and said, “He is old enough to be her father.”

If he had sired her when he was eighteen, perhaps, but Elizabeth let it go. Of course, a younger man would be more appealing than one the same age as one’s mother.

“Besides, Sir John and Clare Court are acceptable,” said Julia. “Although I could have hoped for more than two thousand a year. That is what your father has, I understand,” she added with distaste.

“Do you not want to see if anyone else at the races suits you better, someone wealthier, if that is your concern?”

“No. What I want, Miss Bennet, is to be married by the end of June.”

“But what about your affections and wishes, as well as his?” she asked, trying to keep her disbelief from her voice. “You do not know Sir John at all, let alone love him. I fear he might be a reckless flirt.”

“I am delighted with him,” Julia said mockingly. “He has such an open, good-humoured countenance that one cannot help loving him at first sight.”

“There are more important things when it comes to marrying than love, Miss Bennet,” added Lady Metcalfe. “Come along, girls.”

When their backs were to her, Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders as she followed them out. There was no reasoning with either of them. Let Julia throw herself at Sir John if she wished it. Elizabeth would at least be entertained in watching her pursuit of a man she suspected would trifle with the heart of anyone under thirty-five.

In the entrance hall, everyone but Mrs Tessier gathered to await the carriages. Their hostess then crossed the cluttered gallery above them and called down, “We are waiting for one more. He arrived whilst we were eating and is just dressing for the assembly. How civil of him to attend! I would have thought he would prefer to stay behind tonight.”

She then ran across to the other side, calling down to her son that he did not have his gloves and that she would bring them. Henry flushed at having his mother fuss over him, and Elizabeth felt badly for him. He dressed like a dandy, but he seemed so much like a boy.

To shift the conversation, she said to him, “Who is the last person we are waiting for?”

“He is a friend of my brother’s. I cannot recall his name, although my mother says I have met him. I must have been much younger,” he said with a shrug.

Elizabeth held back a smile at the idea of this boy not recalling things from his youthful days.

Lady Metcalfe and Julia stepped closer. “What else did your mother say about him?” asked Lady Metcalfe.

Henry blew out a breath. “Wealthy man, from Derbyshire, I think? Mother said he has ten thousand a year.”

Lady Metcalfe and Julia shared an expressive glance.