Page 33 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

Lady Anne’s nod was at once elegant and languid. “I see.”

What Lady Anne saw, exactly, Elizabeth could not have said, but she did not think Lady Anne believed her.

“Mr. Cresswell,” the lady said, turning a quarter of an inch to the left and holding out her arm, “may I present Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who has lately come up to town from her father’s estate in Hertfordshire?”

Elizabeth had not seen the gentleman approach.

Mr. Cresswell was perhaps twenty-five years of age, of middle height, soberly but well-dressed, with a fair, clean-shaven face that betokened neither vanity nor self-neglect. His eyes were grey, intelligent, and steady. He bowed. “Miss Elizabeth. I am most happy to make your acquaintance.”

She suppressed a little sigh. It was not his fault that Lady Anne had planted seeds that would bear no fruit. “Mr. Cresswell.”

“Mr. Cresswell,” said Lady Anne, “has the living at Maplehurst, a day’s journey from my brother’s seat. He is, when he is not improving his parishioners, a frequent correspondent of mine on the merits of Mr. Wordsworth, upon whom we have agreed to disagree.”

Mr. Cresswell chuckled. “Lady Anne is quite the devotee.”

“I am, and I shall not be reasoned out of my admiration. Miss Elizabeth, it has been a delight to speak with you. I must see to my other guests.” Then she was gone, leaving Elizabeth to discover what Mr. Cresswell thought of Mr. Wordsworth.

Mr. Cresswell did not at once supply this information. “You and your sister are staying with the Gardiners, I understand,” he said instead.

“Yes, they are my aunt and uncle and very kind to host us.”

“I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gardiner just now. He is well-read on a question of trade in which I am personally interested. He has also ties to a charity that has lately occupied me.”

“My uncle is a man of many interests, sir.”

“He spoke briefly but very highly of his nieces.” He paused, and then said, “Miss Elizabeth, will you permit me to be plain?”

“I admit I would prefer it, sir.”

He offered her a crooked smile. “Lady Anne is a particular friend of my family. When she learnt I was in town, she invited me because there would be a young lady present with whom I might like to become acquainted.”

It was honestly and courteously said.

“Mr. Cresswell,” Elizabeth replied, “I thank you for your candour. Will you permit me to be similarly direct?”

He offered her a knowing smile. “Certainly.”

“I am of course grateful for Lady Anne’s attentions, but I am not in town to marry. I am here as my sister’s companion and my aunt’s guest. My object is to be a useful niece and sister, to enjoy town, and to improve my mind. I have no fortune, sir, and no expectations of altering that condition by a marriage. I should be doing you a disservice by misleading you.”

Mr. Cresswell received this with the same composure with which he had received everything else. “You are very direct, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I have been told the trait is unbecoming, sir, but I have not yet been told what to put in its place.”

He smiled genuinely at her. “Do not put anything in its place. It has saved us both a great deal of time.” He bowed slightly. “To fortune I am not indifferent, though it is most important that I marry a woman who is willing to engage with me in the work of my parish. When Lady Anne mentioned you, I had hoped that we should be friends. Permit me to believe that we may yet be that.”

“I should be pleased to have you for an acquaintance, Mr. Cresswell. I do not doubt my aunt and uncle would receive you, should you find yourself in Gracechurch Street. They are both engaged in charitable endeavours.”

“You are very kind.” Mr. Cresswell bowed again. “I shall not detain you, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth was left near the punch bowl, feeling she had escaped an uncomfortable situation with grace and good feeling on both sides.

And then Mr. Darcy approached.

He had not come for her; that was plain. He came for the punch, or to escape some manoeuvre of his own across the room, and he had nearly reached her elbow before he saw her.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, startled.

“Mr. Darcy.”