Page 45 of The Slipper Scandal
"Arabella,” Mrs. Abernathy warned, before turning back to Elizabeth. "Count Paternò married her for her substantial dowry, and she married him for his title. A match that suited them both, though it did little to tame Penelope's natural tendency towards self-importance. At least she has not beenwidowed again, so far as we know. ‘I hope good luck lies in odd numbers.’"
Arabella and Elizabeth shared a smile—Aunt Vandercross’s marriage to the count was her third, and Mrs. Abernathy was fond of Shakespeare.
"They were on their way to Rome, were they not?" Elizabeth recalled. "The count insisted on hosting that elaborate dinner party to 'honour' your family before their departure."
"Indeed," Mrs. Abernathy nodded, her expression turning wry. "Where he proceeded to monopolise every conversation with tedious accounts of his ancestral palazzo and the exalted position his family held in Roman society."
"And Aunt Vandercross could speak of nothing but the superiority of everything Italian," Arabella added. "The food, the fashion, the art. Nothing in England could possibly compare."
"Until she turned her attention to you, Elizabeth," Mrs. Abernathy continued. "I shall never forget how she attempted to humiliate you at the dinner table, questioning your position in our family and then examining you on your knowledge of Italian art and culture."
Elizabeth laughed softly at the memory. "She demanded to know if I could even name three Italian masters, as though the mere concept of Renaissance art would be beyond my provincial understanding."
"And instead of becoming flustered or defensive, you engaged her in such a detailed discussion of Raphael's use of perspective compared to his contemporaries that the count himself could scarcely keep pace," Mrs. Abernathy finished with evident satisfaction. "By the time you inquired whether she preferred Botticelli's early religious works or his later mythological paintings, poor Penelope was utterly lost."
"The look on her face!" Arabella crowed. "And then you asked her, so innocently, which of the Medici patrons she found mostfascinating, as if assuming she naturally possessed knowledge of any of them."
"Which she did not," Mrs. Abernathy said approvingly. "The count was forced to rescue his floundering bride by changing the subject entirely. You managed, my dear Elizabeth, to reveal her superficial pretensions while never once being disrespectful or unkind. You were merely engaging in what you assumed would be a welcome topic of conversation for someone so enamoured with Italian culture."
"Iwasbeing rather impertinent," Elizabeth admitted. “Had her husband not turned the conversation in another direction, I should have begun speaking to her in Italian.”
“And I should have helped you,” Arabella said.
“I would have required the help,” Elizabeth said with a little laugh. “Even now I would not like to be examined by a proficient.”
"And you were only sixteen then,” Mrs. Abernathy declared. “That natural refusal to be intimidated is precisely the skill you must employ tomorrow. When these ladies attempt to diminish you with their barbs, you must respond with such perfect civility and subtle wit that they find themselves outmanoeuvred without quite understanding how."
Elizabeth sighed. "It sounds exhausting."
"It is at first," Mrs. Abernathy agreed frankly. "But recall three things. First, it will become easier with practice. Two, once they realise you are capable, they will not be so willing to attack.”
“And three?” Elizabeth asked.
“The Countess of Matlock has invited you into her home. That alone will give you standing that these ladies must respect, whatever their private opinions."
"I shall perform to the best of my abilities," Elizabeth promised, though her heart was not in it.
Mrs. Abernathy rose to her feet. "I must check on dinner arrangements. Arabella, perhaps you might help Elizabeth select her gown for tomorrow? The rose silk, I think, would be most becoming."
After her mother had departed, Arabella turned to Elizabeth with a knowing look. "You are planning to be deliberately stupid tomorrow, are you not?"
Elizabeth feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you mean."
"You do," Arabella insisted. "You think if you appear sufficiently ill-suited to Mr. Darcy's station, he will release you from the engagement."
"Would that be so terrible?" Elizabeth demanded, abandoning all pretence. "I have said it before, and I still believe it. Hecannottruly wish to marry me, Belle. He requires a wife who not only understands his world but wishes to be a part of it. The ton will never accept me; why should he saddle himself with a lifetime of social embarrassment merely because Lord Ellington caught us in an awkward moment and circulated his slander?"
"Because Mr. Darcy admires you," Arabella said simply.
"He does not even know me."
"He knows enough. He watches you and listens to you as though every word you utter reveals some new wonder to him."
"That is a rather romantic assessment." Elizabeth rose to pace the room restlessly. "Besides, what does it matter if he fancies himself in love with me? I should be miserable married to a man who will come to resent me.”
"Are you quite finished?" Arabella asked cheerily when Elizabeth paused for breath."Yes," Elizabeth replied after a moment, though in truth she could have continued her litany of protests indefinitely.
"Good. Now perhaps you might consider being a grown woman instead of a petulant girl and show these London ladies who is in charge of your life," Arabella said briskly. "If nothingelse, your father will enjoy hearing about it when you write to him."
