Page 91 of The Slipper Scandal
“He has not yet asked me, Mamma,” Elizabeth told her again.
Her mother frowned. “All the more reason for me to be here to help you on.”
The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly tense until Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy entered, providing a momentary reprieve.
"Mr. Bennet, what a pleasure," Mrs. Abernathy greeted him warmly. "You must be exhausted from your journey. Wilson will show you to your chamber, and then perhaps you would care to join us for luncheon?"
Her father’s rigid posture relaxed slightly. "Thank you, Mrs. Abernathy. You are most kind. I would indeed appreciate the opportunity to make myself presentable before dining."
As Papa was led away, Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance with Arabella. She had never seen her father so openly aggravated. His usual sardonic humour had given way to something darker, more brittle. This did not bode well.
The Abernathys' dining room was elegant yet intimate, with a table that comfortably seated fourteen. Today, it held only six: Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, Arabella, Elizabeth, and her parents.
That is, until Mr. Darcy was announced. He glanced at them all sitting at luncheon, his eyes taking in her father, and frowned. “My apologies, Mrs. Abernathy. I seem to have arrived early.”
“Not at all, Darcy,” Mr. Abernathy said. “We are the ones who are past our time. Will you join us?”
Elizabeth greeted Mr. Darcy with a mixture of pleasure and trepidation. She longed for his company yet dreaded his exposure to the full spectacle of her parents’ quarrels, particularly after their demonstration this morning. The tensionemanating from her father had been building with every new exclamation from her mother.
"Mr. Darcy, how fortuitous that you should call on us today," Mamma exclaimed. "My husband has come."
The introductions were quickly accomplished, and Mr. Darcy sat next to Elizabeth.
Before Papa could utter a word, Mamma was on about setting a wedding date. “Oh, and would you prefer Longbourn or Pemberley to be wed?”
"This is precipitous," Mr. Darcy replied, his voice steady and polite. His eyes sought Elizabeth's, conveying a silent message of support.
"But a gentleman must have some preference," Mrs. Bennet insisted. "Such a fine estate as Pemberley must be magnificent in the summer months. Ten thousand a year! Just think of it, Mr. Bennet!"
Her father’s face darkened. "I think of little else, madam, as you have mentioned it no fewer than thirty times in my hearing since my arrival an hour ago."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Arabella tried to catch her eyes, but Elizabeth could not look at anyone. Her cheeks felt hot, and she knew she must be blushing furiously, but Mr. Darcy appeared determined to remain unruffled, turning the conversation smoothly to the Abernathys' new landscape painting, which he had admired upon his arrival.
“We saw it at your aunt’s salon, Darcy.” Mr. Abernathy leaned back a bit to allow the footman to serve him. “A newer artist, I am told. Has a small gallery near New Somerset House.”
Elizabeth dipped her spoon in her soup but did not eat. Her stomach was knotted with tension as she watched her father's barely concealed anger and her mother's oblivious chatter. The contrast between them and the Abernathys, who exchangedgentle smiles and quiet observations, could not have been starker.
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said during a lull in the conversation, "I have secured tickets for a concert at St. Martin-in-the-Fields next week. They shall be performing several pieces by Mozart that I believe you might enjoy."
Before Elizabeth could respond, Mamma interjected, "How thoughtful you are, Mr. Darcy! Lizzy does enjoy music, and is most accomplished at the pianoforte, though she is perhaps not so fine a player as her sister Mary, who practises more often. But then, with such a husband as you, she need not exert herself so. She shall have masters from London to teach her whatever accomplishments might please you."
"Elizabeth's accomplishments are already more than sufficient to please me," Mr. Darcy replied, his tone measured but firm.
Papa’s laugh was brief and bitter. “It is just as well, Mr. Darcy, for marriage is the most effective cure for ambition.”
The silence that followed this pronouncement was suffocating. Even Mamma was silenced. Elizabeth stared at her plate.
Mrs. Abernathy, ever the gracious hostess, attempted to steer the conversation towards safer waters. "Mr. Bennet, Mr. Abernathy was just remarking upon a first edition of Gibbon'sDecline and Fallhe has purchased. Perhaps you might like to see it after luncheon?"
Her father’s expression softened marginally. "I should like that very much, Mrs. Abernathy. It would be a welcome respite from discussions of wedding plans and annual incomes."
Elizabeth’s anxiety had to go somewhere, and she began to tap her foot, the silk making only the slightest whisper against the floor.
Mamma rallied quickly. Too quickly. "Well, someone must attend to these matters, Mr. Bennet. Not all of us can hide away with our books when there is a wedding to arrange. And such awedding as this will require particular attention. The daughter of a country gentleman marrying the master of Pemberley! It shall be the talk of the county."
"I imagine it already is," Papa observed acidly. "Along with speculation about the unusual haste with which the engagement was announced."
Elizabeth felt as though she had been burned. She peeked up to at Mr. Darcy to judge how he was faring. His expression was stony.
