Page 78 of The Slipper Scandal
Elizabeth found herself reluctantly smiling at the absurdity. "It is absurd, is it not? Yet I assure you, my mother looks at gentlemen in just that way, as something of financial value."
“At least she does not expect to cook him for dinner.”
“Belle.”
Growing serious once more, Arabella took Elizabeth's hand in hers. "Lizzy, Mr. Darcy is not some callow youth to be frightened off by a mother's enthusiasm for her daughter's prospects. He is a man of the world who has dealt with far more challenging social situations. Such as being caught holding a lady’s slipper." She shook her head. “I do not know how to say this in a way you can accept, Lizzy. The way Mr. Darcy looks at you, the care he takes to ensure your comfort, the pride in his voice when he speaks of your opinions—these are not the actions of a man who would abandon his chosen bride over something so inconsequential as her mother's lack of restraint."
"Jane's suitor Mr. Peterson thought otherwise," Elizabeth murmured.
“I have not heard that story.”
“It happened not long after you moved away. Mr. Peterson was showing every inclination of an attachment until the evening he dined with the family at Longbourn. Mamma speculated openly about the match and the gentleman's circumstances, and Papa simply allowed her to continue. Mr. Peterson departed early and sent a brief, polite note the following day, citing unexpected business that called him immediately to town. We never saw him again.”
Jane had not been in love, not yet. But she had been terribly embarrassed by Mamma and had begun hiding her feelings, even from Elizabeth.
"All I can say is that she is well rid of him, then. He was unworthy of Jane," Arabella declared firmly. "A man who truly cares for a woman does not reject her for circumstances beyondher control. Besides, the situations are hardly comparable. Your engagement to Mr. Darcy is already established and publicly acknowledged. There would be considerable scandal should he withdraw now."
"So I am protected by his fear of scandal?" Elizabeth asked, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "That is hardly reassuring."
"No, Lizzy," Arabella said gently. "You are protected by his genuine regard for you, which anyone with eyes can see. The social consequences merely provide additional assurance, which you seem to require."
Elizabeth sighed, wishing she could share her friend's confidence. "I hope you are right. Things have been changing between us. There has been a growing understanding. I would hate to see it destroyed by my mother's inability to moderate her behaviour."
“Lizzy, you like him. Just tell him you will marry him.”
"I promise I am not doing this to be difficult, but I need a little more time. Though my mother may well send him fleeing back to Pemberley before I can decide."
"She will not," Arabella assured her, rising to take her leave. "And even if she tries her worst, I suspect Mr. Darcy's determination to win your good opinion will prove stronger than any impulse to retreat."
After Arabella had gone, Elizabeth returned to her contemplation of the fire, her friend's words echoing in her mind. Was Mr. Darcy truly seeking to win her good opinion? And was his regard for her strong enough to withstand the assault of her mother's vulgarity?
She could only hope so, for she discovered, with a mixture of surprise and resignation, that she very much wished him to remain—not merely for the sake of her reputation, but for her happiness.
It was a startling realisation, one that had been coming upon her gradually and that would require considerable reflection. But for now, as Elizabeth prepared for bed, she allowed herself to take comfort in the memory of Mr. Darcy's warm gaze across the dinner table, the way he had her tea prepared exactly as she preferred it, his promise to meet her at Lady Spencer’s musical evening on the morrow.
Whatever the future might hold, whatever chaos her mother might bring, tonight had shown her a glimpse of what life with Mr. Darcy might truly be like.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lady Spencer's magnificent drawing room gradually filled with the hum of an arriving crowd, the ladies in their fine evening gowns and gentlemen in their dark coats. The room had been arranged to accommodate nearly fifty guests, with gilt chairs positioned in neat rows facing a small dais where the performers would display their talents.
Darcy positioned himself near the entrance, his height allowing him to survey the arriving guests with ease. He bowed to Lady Jersey and her daughter, both resplendent in the latest fashions, followed by the Fitzherberts and several other couples from his aunt's circle. Several young ladies of marriageable age appeared with their mothers, many carrying sheets of music, a clear indication of their intention to perform.
And then, finally, he saw her.
Elizabeth entered with the Abernathys, a vision in a gown of deep violet silk that complemented her dark curls and fine eyes. The modestly cut bodice was edged with delicate lace, and a single strand of pearls adorned her throat. The pins in her hairwere also topped with small pearls, and the candlelight made them shimmer.
She looked, to Darcy's admittedly biased eye, more elegant than any other woman present. And yet there was something about her that seemed . . . troubled.
Darcy moved smoothly through the crowd to greet the Abernathys, his gaze never leaving Elizabeth's face.
"Miss Bennet," he said, bowing over her hand. "You look exceedingly well this evening."
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she replied, her smile warming slightly at his approach. "It promises to be a memorable occasion."
"Indeed," Darcy agreed, studying her with increasing concern. "Miss Bennet, may I inquire—"
"Darcy!" Milton’s voice, smooth and confident, sliced through the ambient hum of conversation and Darcy’s question. "Ah, this must be your elegant Miss Bennet. What a delight.”
