Page 16 of The Slipper Scandal
"How might I accomplish that?" Elizabeth asked. She had been thinking on it all day and still had no solid plan other than to remain recalcitrant with him and hope he tired of her. "Society dictates he must go through with it, now that he has announced it."
"Society cannot force him if he finds you genuinely unsuitable," Arabella pointed out. "He offered because he believes you to be a proper gentlewoman who found herself in an unfortunate situation. You must prove yourself otherwise."
"Are you suggesting that I behave improperly?" Elizabeth shook her head. "I cannot do that, Belle, not even for this."
"You misunderstand me. I do not believe you need to act improperly," Arabella clarified. "But perhaps you might reveal aspects of your character that a man like Mr. Darcy would find unsuitable in a wife."
"What aspects?"
Arabella met her gaze and nodded once. "Your intellect, for one. Most gentlemen prefer wives who admire their opinions rather than challenge them. Your knowledge of politics, literature, even agriculture far exceeds what most men find comfortable in a wife."
Elizabeth considered this. She and Jane had shared most of Arabella’s lessons, and she had loved every moment of them. "You believe I should display my education rather than conceal it?"
"Precisely." Arabella nodded. "I shall ensure that the topic of books arises, and when it does, you must speak of your interestin philosophy and politics in addition to poetry and novels. Express opinions on matters beyond the domestic sphere. Show him the full force of your mind."
Elizabeth smiled, the first time she had felt like smiling since the incident. She had tried, a little, at the ball. But perhaps a more determined course would work. "And in doing so, I would only be telling the truth. You truly believe that will dissuade him?"
"Of course!” Arabella cried. “Men like Mr. Darcy expect wives who enhance their consequence through beauty and accomplishments like painting, music, embroidery. Not women who might challenge their opinions or question their judgment." She hesitated, then added, "Though I confess, I believe you are making a mistake in wishing to end this engagement."
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "How can you say so? You know I have always vowed to marry only where true respect and admiration exists."
"And you cannot imagine developing either for Mr. Darcy?" Arabella asked, her expression suddenly serious.
“It is not that so much as . . .” Elizabeth frowned. “I can tell simply from the way he was attired last night that he is a man of great wealth. Such a man could never be pleased to marry a country girl with no fortune or connections.”
“I beg your pardon?” Arabella asked, drawing herself up. “Are you not connected to the Abernathys?”
Elizabeth smiled at her friend. “I am indeed. I suppose I have one exalted connection to my name. But Belle, these are the actions of a gentleman following the dictates of honour, not a man acting from genuine regard."
Arabella sighed. "I still think this is a mistake. Nevertheless, I promised to help you, and so I shall. If you truly wish to free yourself from this engagement, I will assist you indemonstrating how entirely unsuitable you are as the future Mrs. Darcy."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said, embracing her friend briefly. "I knew I could depend upon you."
Arabella returned the embrace. "Come," she said, smoothing her skirts. "We must go down. Remember, speak freely on intellectual matters. Quote philosophy if the opportunity arises. Contradict him if he makes the slightest error in fact or judgment."
Elizabeth took a breath to steady her resolve. "I shall.” She followed Arabella from the chamber, preparing herself for the evening ahead.
Darcy stood by the window of Mr. Abernathy's study, gazing out at the nearly full moon as he awaited the arrival of his host. It was the same moon he had seen in the garden last night, and his mind returned to the masquerade ball, the fleeing figure in the Athena costume, the abandoned slipper, and the moment when whispers began to circulate amongst the guests.
The door opened behind him, and Darcy turned to find Mr. Abernathy entering, a decanter of brandy in one hand and two glasses in the other.
"Darcy, thank you for arriving early as requested," Mr. Abernathy said, placing the glasses on his desk and filling them. "I thought we might have a private word before the other guests join us for dinner."
"Of course," Darcy replied, crossing to accept the offered glass. "I presumed you wished to discuss last evening."
"Indeed." Mr. Abernathy settled into the leather chair behind his desk, gesturing for Darcy to take the seat opposite. "First,I neglected to offer you condolences last night on the death of your great-uncle.”
“I thank you.”
“He was a judge, was he not?”
“He retired some years ago, but yes. I offered him his own chambers at Darcy House, but he declined. He was a fiercely independent and severe sort of man.”
“And the ball was your first foray back into society after your mourning?”
“It was.”
The mourning period had been brief. Though he had respected his great-uncle, he had not known him well. The judge had not approved of Darcy, particularly his willingness to befriend those not from the oldest families, and the few letters he sent to his nephew dwelled on his disdain for the way the world was changing. Even so, as the only surviving Darcy male, his great-uncle had left him almost everything he had in the world upon his demise. Darcy had thought a good deal about what to do with the funds, which were substantial. His first thought had been to make a gift to Fitzwilliam, but his cousin had refused to take so much as a shilling.
