Page 81 of The Slipper Scandal
"Aunt—"
"We are helping," she said sweetly.
"You are interfering."
"Is there a difference, when the result is marriage?"
How was keeping them apart meant to help him convince her to marry?
His next three attempts to reach her were likewise neatly foiled. Each time he made his way towards Elizabeth, someone intercepted him with unnatural precision. An enthusiastic gentleman wished to discuss a wager at their club. A determined matron insisted on his opinion regarding her daughter’s gown while the daughter in question shot him apologetic looks. A young miss in her first season, encouraged by Lady Matlock’s pointed glance, asked if he truly read Latin for pleasure.
He did not.
An elegant footman lingered near the refreshment table, balancing an empty tray and casting anxious glances across the room. Darcy's gaze, idly scanning for his next opportunity, caught Lord Matlock in casual conversation with the young man. It seemed a benign interaction, until the footman began to move away with uncharacteristic haste.
Darcy took a step forward, intending to cross to the far side of the room and Elizabeth, when the same footman, now clearly flustered, collided with a passing servant bearing a fresh tray of glasses. The second servant spun around in an attempt to prevent his tray and the glasses from crashing to the floor,while a burst of shocked laughter rose from the onlookers. Darcy halted mid-step and reached out to grasp the tray.
For a moment, he was the only one holding it.
Even his uncle appeared shocked. At least damaging the glassware had not been a part of his aunt's plans.
He waited a moment until the servant had righted himself and then handed it back, glancing up just in time to see Elizabeth pass serenely past him on the other side of the disturbance, her head tilted in conversation with Lord North. Her expression was composed, but her eyes flicked in Darcy’s direction. She had not missed the incident.
Darcy turned back to his uncle. Lord Matlock merely lifted his glass to his lips and pretended that nothing was amiss.
The performance resumed. With the efficiency of a man navigating a battlefield, Darcy secured a seat near Elizabeth before anyone else could intervene. He was not beside her, but behind her and over one chair, close enough to speak without being overheard. Milton glanced back at him with mock sympathy, as though Darcy were a guest denied entrance to his own drawing room.
Darcy inclined his head towards Elizabeth. "Miss Bennet, I offer my sincerest apologies. My family has evidently formed a committee."
She turned her head in his direction, though she could not look directly at him. "And their charter is most ambitious. I have never heard so much about chimney flues, parishes, and heroic puddle crossings in one evening. Do they disapprove of me?"
"What?No.They mean well. Though I cannot say I approve of their methods."
"Indeed? I confess I was rather hoping to hear more about Edward Pomfrey's poetry."
His laugh was soft. "I believe you have already heard the best that can be said of it."
Before he could say more, a young lady dropped her fan two rows ahead, setting off a small flurry as several gentlemen leaned in to assist. Darcy strongly suspected Fitzwilliam's hand in the commotion.
Darcy thought to guess at what had discomposed her, and as his family was the source of most of his own disquiet, he began there. Leaning close, he asked gently, "Have you heard from your family?"
Elizabeth's amusement faded, replaced by the tension he had observed earlier. "Yes," she said quietly. "From my mother."
Darcy sensed they had reached the heart of her distress. He was pleased that he had guessed correctly, but sorry that there was indeed something bothering her. "And your family is well?"
"My mother intends to join me in town," Elizabeth replied, her fingers twisting together in her lap. "Much sooner than anticipated."
"I see," Darcy said. She was unhappy, and now he understood why. He must reassure her, but he could not do that here.
The next performer was announced. Darcy took advantage of the respite to lean towards Elizabeth once more.
"Miss Bennet," he said urgently, "might I speak with you alone at the second interval?”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that gave him hope. "I should like that very much, Mr. Darcy."
Milton shook his head as the music began again. Turning his head to speak over his shoulder, he muttered to Darcy, “Approve or not, Mater’s already two schemes deep, and she says if you interfere, she shall makemeplay the pianoforte. I am indifferent, of course, but you remember Vienna.Youmight not survive it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
