Page 32 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“Mr. Bennet does not forbid much?” Mr. Darcy’s mother sounded interested in this rather than scandalised.

“Almost nothing. He believes a young lady should learn to govern her own taste, which is a custom sometimes more comfortable for the father than edifying for the daughter.”

Lady Anne smiled. “The reason I ask this question is that I find the most interesting people have very different ways of answering it, and the variations are more revealing than the choice of literature itself.”

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. “That is rather clever.”

“I have had years to practice appearing insightful at parties.” Lady Anne accepted a glass of punch and took a sip. “Mr. Bingley mentioned you have several sisters.”

“Four sisters, ma’am, including Jane. I am the second.”

“And the others?”

“Mary is eighteen, and serious in her tastes. Catherine is just seventeen, Lydia fifteen. They are all at Longbourn with my parents.”

“And your father is well, I trust. You have implied he has an excellent library.”

“He is very well, ma’am. The book room is the part of the house I miss most, for it has been the work of generations and I am very fond of it.”

Even as she said it, Elizabeth felt a flicker of amusement. Mr. Darcy himself had once spoken of Pemberley’s library in nearly the same terms and with a seriousness she had then thought slightly excessive. Although her father’s book room was not the expansive room she suspected existed at Pemberley, she was apparently guilty of the same sort of pride.

Lady Anne paused. “And Mrs. Bennet?”

“My mother is well, Lady Anne. She has not been to town in some years, and though she declares she would enjoy it, I suspect she is happier reigning at Longbourn than she would be attempting new conquests in London.”

Lady Anne accepted this with a small nod of her head.

A gentleman came to the sideboard for punch, and Lady Anne turned. “Miss Elizabeth, allow me to present my nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam. Richard, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, lately of Hertfordshire.”

The colonel bowed. “Miss Elizabeth. My condolences. My aunt’s punch is excellent, but it is never offered without cost.”

“So I have discovered, Colonel. I am several questions in and have not yet finished my first glass.”

“Richard,” his aunt said, her tone a warning.

“You see how it is,” the colonel said to Elizabeth.

“Lady Trevelyan is by the fire,” his aunt continued, “and her glass is empty.”

“And so I am dealt with.” The colonel collected a second glass, bowed, and went.

A footman inquired whether Elizabeth would like her cup refilled. She declined.

She wondered what Lady Anne was about. The woman’s manner had been kind throughout, unhurried and entirely civil, but the conversation had drawn from Elizabeth a series of small facts, and she did not yet know what use Mr. Darcy’s mother had for them.

“Mr. Bingley has called at Gracechurch Street, I gather, with admirable regularity. But your sister must have other suitors?”

Now she understood. Mr. Bingley was Mr. Darcy’s good friend, and Lady Anne wished to know more about Jane’s family.

“My aunt’s parlour has been peaceful, ma’am. Mr. Bingley has been our most regular caller. Beyond him and one or two old acquaintances of my uncle’s, no one has worn a path to our door.”

“That cannot be quite the case, surely, in a household where two such young ladies are visiting.”

Elizabeth was instantly wary. She was here for Jane, not to be matched herself, no matter how prodigious Aunt Gardiner believed this lady’s talents to be. “It can be, madam, where one of them has made up her mind that she has come to town for the quiet.”

The lady laughed softly. “You have come to town for the quiet? That is rather unusual.”

“And yet, it is true.”