Page 17 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“And the river?” Aunt Gardiner asked from her position between Jane and Elizabeth.

“The Wye runs full, ma’am. You would know it at once.”

Aunt Gardiner smiled wistfully.

It was the most at ease Elizabeth had ever seen Mr. Darcy. Having delivered his account of his home county, he subsided into silence, though it seemed to Elizabeth that he remained more at ease.

Beside Mr. Bingley, Jane was more happily engaged.

“You are to remain in London for Christmas, then?” he asked her.

“Yes. My aunt and uncle have insisted upon it. They have been kindness itself.”

Mr. Bingley’s face brightened. “How fortunate. For them, I mean. And for London.” He cleared his throat. “That is, I hope you will find the season here in town a pleasant one.”

Jane met his gaze. “I am sure we shall.”

“I had thought to host a small dinner before the new year. My sisters would be pleased, I am sure. Or perhaps early January would do as well, if the Miss Bennets are not engaged.”

Jane lowered her eyes, but not before her smile had deepened. “The Miss Bennets,” she said gently, “are unlikely to be engaged.”

He looked so relieved at this intelligence that Elizabeth, watching him, was charmed despite herself.

“Early January, then,” Mr. Bingley said.

Elizabeth wished to offer them a bit of privacy, and so she turned back to assist her uncle in making conversation with the silent Mr. Darcy. She had, moreover, just thought of a question which might pass for civility if delivered with sufficient sweetness.

“You all left Netherfield rather suddenly, Mr. Darcy. I trust all is well and that the journey was not unpleasant.”

He raised his eyes to hers. They were dark and very steady. “It is, and it was not.”

She waited. He did not appear to feel that the exchange required further effort.

“It is a season for unpleasant journeys,” she went on, more brightly than she had quite intended. “Other than perhaps January, I have always thought November the worst possible month to be obliged to travel, as the weather is so changeable. A sound road in November is almost as rare as a decided answer in company.”

She waited.

After a pause, he said, “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were closing the house. Bingley was already in London. Once the party was dissolved, it would have been impolite for me to remain. I was to return to town within the fortnight to spend Christmas with my mother and sister, so departing a little early was no great imposition to me.”

“Of course,” said Elizabeth, feeling a little frustrated. “When a party is dissolved, one must act with dispatch. Mr. Bingley’s neighbours, I suppose, might be trusted to discover his family’s departure in their own time.”

Mr. Darcy’s expression did not alter. “In retrospect, the departure might have been better managed.”

“Only in retrospect?”

A brief pause. “In courtesy as well.”

This was a concession she had not expected.

Uncle Gardiner lifted an eyebrow at her, and Elizabeth knew she was not to go any further on the subject. This was her uncle’s house, and he would not have her be impolite to any guest of his. She sent him an apologetic glance and let him take up the thread of conversation. She added a few more comments when it seemed appropriate to do so, but she did not attempt to cross swords with Mr. Darcy again.

Across the carpet, Aunt Gardiner set down her cup. She was not looking at Jane, for Jane’s conversation with Mr. Bingley was proceeding apace without any guidance from her. Nor was she looking at her husband or Elizabeth. No, she was looking at Mr. Darcy, her eyes steady upon him, her head tilted just slightly to one side. It was the same look Elizabeth had once seen turned upon little Edward as he denied all knowledge of a broken cup while standing among the pieces.

Mr. Darcy, who was at present contemplating the rug at his feet, did not see it. Elizabeth, who had not previously known that her aunt could employ such a look upon adults, felt rather uncomfortable about it.

Aunt Gardiner, with her usual deft touch, then took up the conversation. “I hope Lady Anne keeps well, Mr. Darcy. Lambton was very anxious for her in the year one. I was just married then and had it in letters from friends and family. I have never forgotten it.”

“She is well, madam. I thank you.”