Page 62 of Elizabeth and Caroline
“And then there is Mr. Madderly, who may not have a title, but is connected to the Duke of Buttres through his sister’s marriage. He didn’t reveal to us himself that his first wife had run off with a footman and subsequently drowned herself and the babe the footman had gotten on her in a very widely talked-over scandal, but when I provided that information, I saw Mrs. Darcy’s chin tilt in such a way that I knew she was thinking exactly how she would use that leverage to convince him that Miss Bingley would be a faithful and very safe choice.”
Caroline clasped her hands together in front of herself.
“How am I doing, Mrs. Darcy?” said the colonel, looking too pleased with himself by half. “Is this how you conduct your matchmaking?”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “You are… rather observant, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“I am my mother’s son,” said the colonel. “I know how these female games are played. But here it is, both of you. You may be quite good at spotting weaknesses in men, exploiting them momentarily in conversation, and prompting action in a moment, but neither of you are any good at all at making long-lastingmatches.”
Elizabeth’s face jerked up.
“If you have had any luck with it thus far,” the colonel continued, “it is down to the fact that the two people in question already had a fancy for each other or that they simply find themselves trapped together after it is too late. I suspect that may be the case with the Hursts, though I am basing that on three moments of conversation with Mrs. Hurst.”
Elizabeth gasped. “I don’t believe the Hursts are unhappy!”
“Yes, but you don’t believe they’re in love either,” countered the colonel.
“I don’t think either of them wished for such a thing,” said Caroline with a shrug. “Mr. Hurst’s first love is cards and my sister is happy enough to have been safely settled. Ihave often said I would be happy with such a thing as well. Asking for love is asking rather a lot of a marriage.”
“Perhaps,” said the colonel with a shrug. “But tell Mrs. Darcy, Miss Bingley, tell her what she has so obviously missed, what is directly in front of her nose, about the two of us.”
Miss Bingley looked at him with a look of shock on her face, but it was a gratified shock, a shock of relief and gladness.
Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged. “Two dances,” she breathed. “You claimed her first two dances. You seem to have noticed rather an excruciating amount of detail when it comes to Miss Bingley’s situation, her sister, her character, and everything about her. You are quite an expert in Miss Bingley. Everything I have said about her, you have pounced on, tucked away, and brought back out because you…” She shook her head. “My matchmaking services are clearly not needed, are they?”
The colonel was grinning widely. He turned to Caroline. “May I call on you, Miss Bingley?”
Caroline sucked in an audible breath. “Oh.” She shook herself and then she was blushing and smiling. “Yes, of course. Yes, please.”
The colonel held out his hand. Caroline placed her hand in his, still blushing. He gave her fingers a quick squeeze, still smiling. “If you lovely ladies will excuse me?”
And then, with that, he was gone, leaving them both alone.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead. “I am a terrible matchmaker,” she murmured.
Caroline gazed after him. “He was not simply being genial, then. He did have an especial interest in me,” she said, stunned.
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “For all it is that it’s said that I understand people, apparently, sometimes, I really, really don’t.”
ELIZABETH WAS EXHAUSTEDat the end of the night. Though the ball was still in full swing, she and her husband left just after the midnight breakfast and traveled home.
She curled against him in the carriage, yawning, explaining to him everything that had happened. “I think I shall give up matchmaking entirely.”
“Caroline and the colonel?” said Mr. Darcy. “What an odd match that is.”
“Is it, though? Truly? I think they suit each other,” said Elizabeth, shutting her eyes as she burrowed into the warmth of her husband, into his unique and comforting smell.
“You barely know him,” Mr. Darcy said with a huff. “Though I suppose he did stay quite close to you all evening.”
She laughed into his chest. “Youarejealous, Mr. Darcy. My husband is a very jealous man.”
He scoffed. “Jealous of Richard. Hardly.”
“You wish to deny it about yourself, but I see it. I see it within you.” She placed her hand on him, just under his cravat.
“You sound as if the thought pleases you.” He was gruff. “Anyway, that is not my objection to the match, of course. It is only that I don’t like Miss Bingley, and I think my cousin could—” He broke off, considering. “Perhaps you’re right. They may be rather well matched. He would simply adore it, having someone hovering over him while he was trying to write a letter, talking about how fast he writes. He would love to allow her to mend his pen.”
Elizabeth let out a guffaw.
