Page 9 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

It meant, however, that Jane would be required to call upon Miss Bingley, which meant Miss Bingley might call upon Jane. If things progressed as they ought, then in some drawing room or other, Mr. Bingley would appear, and where Mr. Bingley was, his friend generally was also. Perhaps they were not together as often in London as they had been in Hertfordshire, but it was best to be prepared, for it could not be helped. Jane needed to see Mr. Bingley in London in order to know her own mind.

Very well, Elizabeth would do whatever she could to help.

She would be civil if forced into Mr. Darcy’s company. But she would give him no opportunity to remark upon her looks, her relations, her lack of accomplishments, or her manner of speaking. It was a very simple promise to make herself, and she was quite pleased to have thought it through so calmly.

She would not ask herself why it had required thinking through at all.

CHAPTER 3

At a quarter past seven on Monday evening, Darcy descended for dinner.

His mother was standing beside the table in the dining room, perfectly attired and engaged in moving a chair to the right of his by a distance so small it could not possibly matter.

Presumably this was the chair Miss Amelia Macomber was to occupy.

“Good evening, Mother.”

“Fitzwilliam.” She touched one of the napkins. “You will try tonight, will you not?”

“I will be a gentleman.”

His mother shook her head at him. “That is not what I asked.”

“I am aware.” Darcy bowed to her and entered the drawing room.

Georgiana was already waiting, no doubt hurried there by her mother. She rose at her brother’s entrance and offered him a weak smile.

“Good evening, Brother.”

“Georgiana.” He took her hand a moment and bowed over it. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you. Mamma had the gown made especially for dinner parties. I do like it.” A small smile escaped her, and their mother, who was now entering the room, gave a soft satisfied sound.

“It looks even better in the candlelight,” she said approvingly.

His uncle Lord Matlock arrived first, his sons behind him. Richard came in laughing and clapped Darcy on the shoulder by way of greeting while the others exclaimed over Georgiana.

“You are looking rather funereal,” Richard said in a low tone.

“Do not laugh. It may very well be my funeral, for my mother is determined.”

“Your mother is always determined.”

“She is especially so tonight. Which means she has expectations for this dinner and when those expectations are not met, she will be unhappy. Which means⁠—”

“We will all be unhappy.” Richard considered him with a soldier’s appraisal. “How thorough was the briefing?”

“Twenty-five thousand pounds. Two elder sisters married well. Plays the harp tolerably. Reads the right things. Says the right things.”

“And?”

“She is, by all accounts, a pretty and sensible young woman.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Richard,” his father interrupted, his voice mild but firm. “Georgiana can hear you.”

Richard lowered his voice even further. “Sensible is a poor harbinger, Cousin. Ladies who are called sensible are invariably as dry as dust.”