Page 61 of The Slipper Scandal
"Lizzy, my dear, Wilson says you have news from Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Abernathy's voice interrupted her thoughts as she entered with her husband close behind.
"Yes," Elizabeth replied, offering them the letter. "He has invited us to an opera tomorrow evening."
Mrs. Abernathy scanned the note, her expression brightening with each line. "How delightful!The Peasant Boyhas received the most wonderful reviews, and I have been longing to see it."
"Michael Kelly's music is superb," Mr. Abernathy agreed, reading over his wife's shoulder. "Most thoughtful of Darcy to invite us. I understand tickets have been exceedingly difficult to obtain."
"And in his private box, no less," Mrs. Abernathy added with satisfaction. "We must accept at once."
"You are certain it would not be an inconvenience?" Elizabeth asked, though she already knew the answer. The Abernathys were avid patrons of the arts and never missed an opportunity to attend a noteworthy performance.
"My dear girl, you know how fond we are of the opera," Mr. Abernathy assured her. "I am most eager to hear Kelly's new compositions.”
"Then I shall write to accept immediately," Elizabeth said, moving towards the writing desk.
"What is this I hear about the opera?" Arabella asked, appearing in the doorway with a book tucked under her arm. "Are we to have an outing?"
"Mr. Darcy has invited us to seeThe Peasant Boyat the Lyceum tomorrow evening," Mrs. Abernathy explained, passing her the letter.
Arabella's eyes lit up as she read. "How wonderful!" Her gaze flickered over the note once more. "Will Colonel Fitzwilliam be joining us?"
An unreadable look passed between Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy, one that did not escape Elizabeth's notice.
"I think not," Mr. Abernathy replied carefully. "Mr. Darcy's invitation mentions only the four of us."
"I see," Arabella said, her voice neutral though her eyes betrayed her disappointment. "How strange. The colonel is usually most enthusiastic about the theatre."
“Arabella," Mr. Abernathy began, his tone gentle but firm, "perhaps we might discuss this matter privately. Would you join your mother and me in my study?"
Arabella glanced at Elizabeth, a flicker of apprehension crossing her features. "Now, Father?"
"I believe it would be best," Mrs. Abernathy interjected softly. "We have put off this conversation long enough."
Elizabeth immediately rose to her feet. "I shall retire to my chamber while you speak. Wilson is awaiting my reply to Mr. Darcy, but I can send it later."
"No, no," Mr. Abernathy assured her. "Please compose our acceptance. We shall not be long."
With a supportive smile for Arabella, who looked uncharacteristically glum, Elizabeth moved to the writing desk and began her response to Mr. Darcy. She kept it simple and proper, expressing gratitude for the invitation and confirming that all four members of the party would be delighted to attend. She hesitated over how to close the note, finally settling on "With sincere appreciation, Elizabeth Bennet." It lacked the warmth of his own closing, but it was the most she dared offer.
As she sealed the letter, her thoughts turned to Arabella and the mysterious conversation taking place in Mr. Abernathy's study. Elizabeth had observed her friend's growing attachment to Colonel Fitzwilliam with both pleasure and concern. The colonel was charming, intelligent, and seemed genuinely taken with Arabella. Yet as a military officer, he led a life of uncertainty and potential danger, an existence Elizabeth suspected the Abernathys would not wish for their only child.
After handing her acceptance to Wilson, Elizabeth made her way upstairs to her chamber, where she attempted to focus on her book while awaiting Arabella's return. Nearly three quarters of an hour passed before she heard a soft knock at her door.
"Come in," she called, setting aside her volume.
Arabella entered, her expression composed but her eyes bright with suppressed emotion. She closed the door behind her, then stood for a moment, struggling to maintain her composure.
"Belle?" Elizabeth said gently, rising to approach her friend. "What has happened?"
"Father has forbidden Colonel Fitzwilliam to call upon me," Arabella said, her voice admirably steady despite the tremor in her hands. "He has made it clear that he will not consent to a match between us so long as the colonel remains in in the army."
"Oh, Belle," Elizabeth murmured, taking her friend's hands in her own. "I am so sorry."
A single tear escaped Arabella’s eye, and she swept it hastily away. "Mother says I would have the title of bride without a husband beside me. That I would spend my days in constant fear, awaiting each dispatch for news." She drew a shaky breath. "And they are not wrong, Lizzy. I would hate such an existence. I have always despised being alone."
"Your parents only wish to protect you," Elizabeth offered, though she felt the inadequacy of her words.
"I know," Arabella acknowledged. "But . . ." She looked down at their joined hands, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I believe I love him, Lizzy. And nothing else seems to matter quite so much in the face of that realisation."
