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Mrs. Egerton was eager, but Elizabeth detected no malice in her. “Do you have a favorite flavor, Miss Bennet?”
“I do not believe so,” Elizabeth said. It was true. What she loved most about Gunter’s was trying something new each time they visited. Jane always selected lavender. “I have tried the parmesan and asparagus as well as the artichoke. I sampled the jasmine last summer and greatly enjoyed it.”
Mrs. Egerton did not listen closely enough to realize that Elizabeth had not said she enjoyed the parmesan. “I am at Gunter’s nearly every day,” she said with a wave of one hand, and rattled away happily without much additional prompting. Elizabeth wondered how she could be so thin, eating at Gunter’s every day, but then, perhaps that was why Mrs. Egerton’s teeth were in such a state. Mrs. Egerton carried on, and Elizabeth nodded attentively.
During a brief lull, there was a puffing sound. Elizabeth followed Mrs. Egerton’s gaze to see Lady Montagu blowing a long feather from her face. She looked longer than she ought, and Lady Montagu asked, with a sharp edge to her voice, “May I ask what distracts you, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth was startled but did not allow it to show. “Oh, do forgive me, Lady Montagu. I am simply astonished by the grandeur of your feathers.”
Aunt Matlock pulled a face, but quickly smoothed her features. Elizabeth did her best to keep all teasing from her tone as Lady Montagu peered at her to gauge whether or not she was being trifled with.
“I love feathers,” Lady Montagu said regally, “but after a time, they do droop.”
If she had chosen feathers of a lesser length the problem might be solved, but perhaps Lady Montagu enjoyed the spectacle.
Elizabeth thought her best option was to simply plow ahead and pray that Lady Montagu did not take offense. “They are beautiful,” Elizabeth mused aloud. “Peacock feathers might drape less if that is what you would prefer. They are elegant and so very colorful. I am too small to pull them off creditably myself, of course,” she explained, “but . . . if I might be allowed an opinion, my lady, they would complement both your figure and the blue in your eyes.” It was the truth, even if solving Lady Montagu’s feather problem was not her primary purpose.
Lady Montagu considered it for so long that Elizabeth hoped she had not made an enemy. Aunt Matlock’s expression signaled that she hoped the same. At last, a smile crossed Lady Montagu’s face. “They would indeed. How clever of you to notice.”
It was hardly clever, but Elizabeth played along. “They are elegant and require an elegant lady to display them well.”
“Yes, and they are not so common as the ostrich,” Lady Montagu agreed. She returned her attention to Aunt Matlock. “I like the girl, Lucy.” She spoke as though Elizabeth were not sitting three feet away. “She is pretty, and she has excellent taste.”
Elizabeth nearly sighed in relief. She had dug herself out of that hole rather well, she congratulated herself. Now she must avoid falling into another.
Aunt Matlock clearly felt the same and moved to change the subject. “Have you heard how Elizabeth and William met?”
Her two friends leaned in towards her. “It really is the most romantic tale. Elizabeth, should you like to tell it? You must not leave out the insult, dearest. It is the best part.”
Elizabeth tried to demur, but the request had more the flavor of a command. The women refused to accept her modesty. They were quite insistent upon knowing how their dear Mr. Darcy had fallen for a young woman “like her.” That they did not consider their attitude an insult offered Elizabeth another glimpse into the world Mr. Darcy had been a part of since his birth.
Perhaps it would be better to tell the story all in one piece instead of waiting for these visitors to interrogate her. She would have more control over the story being told, and hopefully she would only need to tell it once. The gossip would weave it into something unrecognizable, but she could not control that. Her contemplation was interrupted.
“You must admit, my dear Miss Bennet,” Lady Montagu said pleasantly, “that our Mr. Darcy did find you in a rather unusual way.”
“Not so very unusual, Lady Montagu,” replied Elizabeth, “for he was simply visiting an acquaintance at a neighboring estate.”
“Well,” Mrs. Egerton responded, “it is certainly a more interesting story than Miss Howard’s ruination.”
“Really?” Elizabeth asked, playing the innocent. “I was not in town when the story was circulating. Who was the source of this tale?”
“Does it matter?” Mrs. Egerton tittered.
“Oh, I believe it does,” Elizabeth replied warmly.
“I must agree,” the countess said. “Mr. Howard has long been known as an honorable man. He has not been run out of London as a result of the rumors, but his position cannot be comfortable. Lady Kendricks rescinded his invitation to dine not a fortnight ago; I cannot believe it is the only one. I would hope the source is a creditable one.”
Lady Montagu turned to Aunt Matlock. “Who knows how these things ever begin?” She paused, thinking. “I do not know the source, but I heard it first from Mrs. Doughty at Broughton House.”
Elizabeth did not notice that more calling cards had been brought in and that Aunt Matlock had selected a few until three other women entered the room and she was introduced to Lady Fleur, Lady Annabella, and Mrs. Darlington.
“We are speaking of poor Mr. Howard,” Mrs. Egerton informed the new arrivals gleefully. “Is it not a pity about his sister? Such a grand fortune, and instead of waiting for her presentation and a respectable suitor, she has destroyed the reputation that was so important to her brother.”
“Oh,” said Lady Annabella. “It is rather shocking. I had it from Mrs. Doughty’s daughter Emma, you know, who heard it from a school friend. Miss Howard had returned to town just at Michaelmas to prepare for the season. The rumors began, and within a month, she was sent away.” She sighed, and Elizabeth detected some sincerity before Lady Anabella abruptly changed the subject. “But that is old news! It is not Miss Howard who interests us today,” she declared. “I hope we are in time to hear how Miss Bennet has brought Mr. Darcy to the point at last.”
“Your boys are so very stubborn,” Mrs. Darlington teased Aunt Matlock, “that it is something of a minor miracle.”
Lady Fleur laughed loudly. All the women turned to stare at her ladyship. “I declare,” Lady Fleur said amiably, “are we not all thinking the same thing? Is it not amusing that Mr. Darcy would be captured at last by a country maid?” She nodded at Elizabeth. “I have no female relations for whom to take offense. I believe I shall quite enjoy watching that very solemn man act the besotted fool, as Lady Matlock paints him.”
