Page 3 of The Vanished Bennet Sister

"I am only thinking aloud, Lizzy. We are so very grateful, Mr Thwaite. You cannot know what this means to us. To have the opportunity of such an evening, in such company…it is more than we could have hoped for when we set out from Longbourn."

"You’re most welcome."

Mr Thwaite rose to take his leave then, after making a promise to Mary that he would call on her more regularly.

As Lydia, Kitty and Mrs Bennet began to discuss the finer details of the subscription ball, Elizabeth retrieved the household account ledger for a closer look. More attention would need to be paid to prevent the gradual accumulation of small expenditures that could be potentially ruinous if not tracked.

Talk of social events was nice, but it was Elizabeth’s self-imposed responsibility to ensure that the wrong decisions weren’t made during the course of the season.

She looked across the room at Jane, who was busy with needlework. Mary had picked up a book and was reading it, or perhaps appearing to and was instead internally replaying a conversation that had gone well.

Staring now out the window of a house that didn’t belong to them, in a city that was unfamiliar, and with accounts racing in the columns of her mind, Elizabeth hoped their temporary stay in London would prove rather beneficial indeed.

Chapter Two

Darcy

Darcy stood at the edge of Almack’s principal assembly room with a glass of orgeat he barely drank, watching dozens of people navigate one another in elaborate social activity.

He was present on the insistence of his cousin, the Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. The Colonel had, over the course of their bond, deployed many stratagems to include Darcy in whatever space he had chosen to occupy. He often cited duty, obligation, the improvement of spirits, and, once, the suggestion that prolonged solitude was injurious to the constitution. A few days earlier, he had simply pointed out that Darcy had been in London since the very start of January and was yet to present himself anywhere of consequence.

Darcy had objected, stating that he spent more time on correspondence than the average person and could not be said to be solitary. But the Colonel had remained unconvinced and had informed Darcy he would only change his mind if his invitation to Almack’s was honoured.

Darcy was not, by temperament, opposed to society. But he was sceptical of the constant assessing glances and how a gentleman’s consequence was silently calculated before he exchanged words with anyone.

Richard, for his part, was across the room and already at the centre of a laughing circle. He had returned from the Continent three weeks prior, his high spirits suggesting that the sojourn had agreed with him. His belief that the world would always be worth engaging with, was one of his defining characteristics.

As Darcy watched his cousin elicit general laughter with a well-placed remark, he thought, not for the first time, that it must be rather restful to find people as straightforwardly interesting as his cousin did.

Bingley appeared next to him.

"Splendid evening, is it not?"

Bingley’s capacity for exuberance was a well-known trait, but it seemed more pronounced that evening. Something specific must have occurred to put him in a vibrant mood.

"Have you been dancing?"

"Only the first set. With a Miss Bennet. She is from Hertfordshire and new to Town."

"And?"

"She is very amiable. I don’t know that I have ever met a more delightful lady. Her family’s staying in Portman Square, which, as you well know, has the finest houses around."

Darcy’s attention had already shifted elsewhere, not from any lack of interest in Bingley’s affairs, but because there was, only a short distance away, a scene that intrigued him against his will. A young, dark-haired woman was engaged in conversation with Mrs Somebody-or-other whose name he could not immediately recall. The older woman appeared to have delivered a pronouncement she considered final. The younger one seemed to be about to demonstrate, at some length, why it was not.

Mrs Seton—he could recall her name now—said something further. The young woman listened and then replied. Mrs Seton blinked, rallied briefly, and then redirected her attention to the room at large, having decided that the conversational avenue was not worth pursuing. The young woman returned to her previous occupation, which appeared to have been watching the orchestra.

"Who is that?"

Bingley turned to look." Ah. That is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Miss Bennet's sister."

"I see."

"I understand that Miss Elizabeth is considered rather clever. What do you think?"

"What do I think? That they seem to be a comfortable family, much like everyone else." Darcy said dismissively, peering into the glass of orgeat.

He did not intend to be introduced.