Page 49 of The Slipper Scandal
Her smile was reminiscent of Bullock’s crocodile, and Elizabeth fought to maintain her composure. It would not do to laugh. “Lady Yarrow,” she said.
The countess waved at her companions. “Mrs. Nott, Mrs. Fordham, this is Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth offered them all a shallow curtsy while Lady Yarrow’s gaze raked Elizabeth up and down.
“This must all be rather overwhelming for you, poor girl," she said at last.
The way she emphasized the wordpooralerted Elizabeth to Lady Yarrow’s opinion of her engagement.
Mrs. Nott ran her eyes over Elizabeth's gown and minimal jewellery with barely concealed disdain.
"How delightfully simple you appear, Miss Bennet," she said, her voice honeyed with false admiration. "One so rarely sees such restraint in adornment these days. Is it the fashion in Hertfordshire to wear so little jewellery?"
“It must be, Mrs. Nott,” tittered Mrs. Fordham. “Lady Matlock would never allow it otherwise.”
Across the room, Mrs. Abernathy's worried gaze flickered between Elizabeth and the trio of fashionable ladies. Lady Matlock paused in her conversation, her attention drawn to the tableau unfolding in the corner.
Mr. Darcy was also watching the interaction, though he was pretending he was not. His eyes briefly flickered up to meet hers, and she read there that he would come to her aid if she wished it.
Something shifted inside her, like a key turning in a lock. Elizabeth straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and met Mrs. Nott's gaze directly. "I find excessive ornamentation often speaks more of insecurity than genuine elegance, Mrs. Nott." She was careful that her voice remained pleasant, carrying just far enough to be heard by those around them. "But perhaps customs differ in London circles."
Lady Yarrow's eyes widened fractionally, while Mrs. Nott's mouth formed a small “o” of surprise. But she recovered quickly. "How charmingly direct. And is your family with you, Miss Bennet?”
“No, I am visiting with the Abernathys.”
“I understand you have several sisters."
"Four," Elizabeth confirmed, waiting for the trap to spring.
"How delightful," purred Mrs. Fordham. "And all, no doubt, as eager to visit London as yourself. How fortuitous that you should have been the one tocaptureMr. Darcy's attention."
"I am not sure what you mean, Mrs. Fordham,” Elizabeth replied although of course shedidknow. “Mr. Darcy and I met through the Abernathys."
"We did hear that you met in a moonlit garden," Lady Yarrow said with feigned innocence. "It is a romantic story, far more interesting that a proper introduction.”
Mrs. Fordham spoke over her friend. “Do you know, I cannot recall ever losing a slipper myself, even when dancing the most vigorous sets, let alone walking through a garden."
Elizabeth smiled. “How very fortunate you have been.”
Lady Yarrow’s smile was thin. She was growing frustrated, and Elizabeth congratulated herself for it.
"One wonders what Mr. Darcy's dear mother would think of her son's choice,” Lady Yarrow said heatedly. “Lady Anne was most particular about maintaining the family's connections."
"While I never had the honour of meeting Lady Anne," Elizabeth responded, "I understand from Mr. Darcy that his mother valued sincerity and deplored artifice. If he sees such qualities in me, who am I to gainsay him?"
Who indeed. Elizabeth knew she was arguing against her own interests, but she could not allow this harridan to get the better of her. It was not in her nature.
A flash of genuine anger crossed Lady Yarrow's face before she masked it. "How bold you are, Miss Bennet. I wonder if such outspokenness will serve you well as Mrs. Darcy."
"Far better, I should think, than the alternative," Elizabeth countered. "For what purpose does a wife serve if not to offer honest counsel? Unless, of course, one views marriage merely as a transaction of property and titles, in which case silence might indeed be preferable."
Mrs. Fordham's mouth dropped open for a moment before she snapped it shut. "Well! I see Mr. Darcy has found himself a veritable bluestocking. How unconventional."
"I prefer to think of it as practical," Elizabeth said sweetly. "After all, one cannot discuss literature or politics with one's accounts at the bank, however impressive they might be."
Lady Yarrow's eyes narrowed. "You speak as though you have already assumed the role of mistress of Pemberley, which I understand is not a foregone conclusion. You have a great deal of confidence for someone whose position is yet precarious."
This was not the insult Lady Yarrow intended it to be.
