Page 19 of The Slipper Scandal
Which, she supposed, was rather the point. They were already engaged. He must feel he had no reason to win her regard. But if he believed she would slide silently into a marriage with him as though she wished nothing more than to be his wife, he was absolutely wrong.
She allowed herself the smallest smile and waited for an opening.
Her opportunity arrived with Mrs. Grayson’s affected sigh. “I do wish this season would bring more cheerful tidings. One grows weary of news from the Peninsula. It is always so terribly unpleasant.”
A better opening she could not have devised herself.
Elizabeth set her spoon down. “Unpleasant, perhaps, but also rather important, do you not think?” She kept her tone light, almost conversational, speaking as though she were home, conversing with her father. “Marshal Masséna’s advance on Lisbon was no minor skirmish. His army pushed as far as the Lines of Torres Vedras before Lord Wellington forced a retreat, and the entire countryside between Coimbra and Santarém suffered for it. They say the French lived off the land, and the Portuguese burned their own homes to starve them.” She paused before adding, “Is it not the least we can do, to speak of and honour their courage while we sit safely here at home?”
The effect was immediate. Conversations faltered. Mr. Langford’s fork froze in midair, and Mrs. Grayson looked as though Elizabeth had just recited the contents of a field surgeon’s diary. Arabella, who was seated across the table, pressed her lips together with what Elizabeth knew was amusement.
Only Mr. Darcy turned towards her, eyes sharpening, the stiffness in his shoulders giving way to something far more alert.
Elizabeth took a measured sip of wine, allowing herself the smallest of smiles. He certainly disapproved.
Mrs. Abernathy pursed her lips and lifted her brows, as if to ask Elizabeth what she was about.
Lady Maria, seated opposite, blanched and blinked as though Elizabeth had said something quite indecent. “My dear Miss Bennet,” she said, laughing tightly, “surely such grim matters are best left to the gentlemen over brandy?”
Elizabeth smiled pleasantly. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, everyone.”
The conversation returned to other, less weighty subjects. Once everyone was distracted with their own discussions, Elizabeth leaned closer to Mr. Darcy.
“I believe such matters are of vital importance to England. Would you not agree, sir?”
His expression had flattened again. “I would, indeed.”
Encouraged by his countenance if not the words, Elizabeth pressed on. “And yet no one seems to speak of Masséna’s retreat from the Lines of Torres Vedras. It seems the Portuguese terrain did more to repel the French than our men did.” She did not believe it, but she expected Mr. Darcy to agree with her anyway. Men rarely took her seriously.
Mr. Darcy’s eyes glittered almost dangerously. “The terrain was masterfully employed. Wellington’s fortification of the lines was a feat of both engineering and foresight.”
Elizabeth blinked. That was just what she thought. “You follow the campaign closely?”
“My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam served for a time under Lord Wellington. His letters were rather vivid, though he often spent more time describing the food and wine. He is attached to Whitehall now.”
“You must be relieved.”
“I am, though there is always the chance he may be sent back. You seem well-versed in military matters,” Mr. Darcy said, his tone a touch more curious than condescending. “May I ask why?”
“Why not?”
His brows pinched together. “Are you saying that you have given permission for me to ask the question or that gentlewomen should study warfare?”
She supposed her flippant questionhadbeen a little unclear. “At home I must either immerse myself in fashion and feminine accomplishments with my mother or study more consequential matters with my father. And learning about battle strategies can be rather useful when dealing with my youngest two sisters.” She gazed straight into his eyes. “I have four. All unwed.”
Elizabeth had hoped he would react with alarm, or caution, at least. Four unwed sisters would be a burden to him if they were to marry.
Instead, his eyes held hers and he was entirely still for a long moment—until one corner of his mouth turned up. “Your study of military matters is a practical one, then?”
“Clearly,” she replied. “In terms of my youngest sisters, at any rate. My eldest sister Jane is the sweetest woman I have ever met.”
“Not like you, then.”
Elizabeth glared disbelievingly at him, then looked away.
To his credit, Mr. Darcy appeared to understand what he had said only a moment after the words had left his lips. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Miss Bennet, I—"
She swivelled back to him rather sharply, wondering indignantly how he would attempt to dig himself out of this hole, but she moved so suddenly that the footman, who had only just stepped forward to fill Mr. Darcy’s wineglass, startled.
