Page 24 of The Slipper Scandal
"On your part." Mrs. Abernathy confirmed.
Elizabeth nodded. "Mr. Darcy was convinced the men would humiliate him over the wine stain. I could see he was growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the thought occurred to me that if something more dramatic were to happen—"
"The wine stain would be forgotten entirely," Mr. Abernathy finished.
"So youdeliberatelyknocked the fish into his lap?" Arabella asked again.
"I would not phrase it quite so crudely," Elizabeth protested. "I merely . . . assisted fate when Johnson arrived with the next course. A slight turn, a small bump—" She demonstrated. "And voilà. A much larger diversion that completely overshadowed the initial accident and threw the blame upon me rather than him." She shrugged. “The wine was my fault as well, so I felt it only fair.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before Mr. Abernathy burst into hearty laughter. "A brilliant strategy, Lizzy."
Mrs. Abernathy pressed her fingertips to her lips, and Arabella covered her eyes with her hand.
"Oh, Lizzy," she gasped when she could speak again. "You are absolutely wicked."
"I prefer to think of it as resourceful," Elizabeth corrected her. "Mr. Darcy was in distress, and I provided a solution."
"A solution that involved publicly mortifying your intended," Mrs. Abernathy pointed out, though her eyes were twinkling. “And then yourself.”
"Yes, but—" Elizabeth hesitated, trying to frame her reasoning in a way that did not sound utterly mad. "The wine stain was a private humiliation that I suspected would linger in the gentlemen's conversations for weeks, growing more vulgar with each retelling. The fish was a public spectacle that reflected poorly on me, not him. By the end of the evening, the story had already transformed into one about Mr. Darcy's forbearance in the face of his clumsy intended. Far better for his dignity in the long run. I believe that in this situation, I am better able to bear the censure than he."
Mr. Abernathy nodded approvingly. "The girl has a point, Margaret. Political strategy at its finest. Create a larger crisis to distract from the smaller one."
"I daresay Mr. Darcy did not view it in quite those terms," Mrs. Abernathy replied.
"No," Elizabeth agreed, her expression sobering. "Though I believe he may have understood by the end. There was a moment, when he returned to the dining room, when he gave me a look that was notentirelyaccusatory."
"He did seem reasonably cheerful, considering," Arabella agreed.
"Hastings is a marvel with evening clothes," Mr. Abernathy explained. "Had Darcy wearing one of my waistcoats before you could say 'catastrophe averted’."
Elizabeth felt a surprising pang of guilt. "I do hope Mr. Darcy's garments were not ruined beyond repair."
"Bah, the man has more waistcoats than most of the peers in London," Mr. Abernathy said dismissively. "And if he does not, he can certainly afford them."
"Still," Elizabeth murmured, "it was not my intention to destroy his wardrobe."
"Only his dignity?" Arabella teased.
"Which was already in danger and apparently in dire need of adjustment," Elizabeth replied, unable to suppress a smile. "You must admit, Belle, Mr. Darcy could use alittlehumility."
Mrs. Abernathy studied Elizabeth with a thoughtful expression. "You know, my dear, for someone who professes such indifference towards Mr. Darcy, you went to extraordinary lengths to preserve his feelings."
Elizabeth felt heat rising to her cheeks. "It was not about him specifically. I would have done the same for any gentleman in similar circumstances."
"Would you indeed?" Mr. Abernathy's eyes twinkled. "I shall have to keep out of your way, then. After all, I might be the next victim of a Salvo of Salmon. Or would it be a Victory ofthe Venison in my case? Perhaps even a Buffoonery of Beans—though heaven forbid.”
He paused to sip his tea with great dignity.
“I do beg you, Lizzy,” he continued, directing a mock-solemn glance across the table, “if you must aim your culinary catapults at anyone today, kindly spare me a Mischief of Mushrooms. I have long considered them the most untrustworthy of vegetables.” He shuddered theatrically. “They lurk in the sauce, you know.”
Arabella gave a snort of laughter. Elizabeth pressed her lips together, valiantly pretending to be mortified.
“I make no promises,” she replied drily. “The kitchen is a dangerous place these days. One never knows what may take flight.”
“Quite so,” Mr. Abernathy replied. “I’ve already alerted the butler to issue chain mail with the soup.”
Elizabeth shook her head at him, and he smiled genially at her in return.
