Page 38 of The Matchmaker’s Mistake

“In a moment. I have a letter I have not yet written.” He had no letter, but he would find one. After such a conversation, he required a little time to recover.

“Very well.” She crossed to the door. With her hand on the handle she paused, looked back, and said, in the careful neutral voice with which she had begun the visit, “Fitzwilliam—are you happy?”

Darcy realised that this had been his sister’s true purpose in coming. He could not in good conscience answer her concern with anything other than the truth. “I have not been at peace, Georgiana.”

“No,” she said. “I thought not. May I help?”

He shook his head. “I thank you, but this is not something you can mend.”

She gazed at him for a few seconds, then nodded once and went.

He remained in his study for some time after.

CHAPTER 10

The invitation lay on the table by the window.

Elizabeth noted the slim, upright loops and the brief, decided letters—she had now seen the hand often enough to recognise it as Lady Anne’s. Martha had brought it to Aunt Gardiner on a silver salver, presenting it like she was carrying the queen’s diadem.

Elizabeth sat at the little writing desk her aunt had given over to her use, with her correspondence open before her. There were two unanswered letters from Charlotte and one half-begun letter to her father, all of which she had meant to address this morning before her concentration had quietly withered away.

Her aunt was at the other end of the room with her workbasket, hemming a small apron. The fire was burning steadily. Outside, a coalman’s cart rattled past.

There had been a brief discussion at Gracechurch Street about whether the Gardiners would make their accustomed journey to Longbourn for Christmas. But her mother’s letter to Jane had forestalled it. Jane was instructed not to leave London until matters were settled between her and Mr. Bingley. Papa, in a postscript, had added:

Your mother is in fine form. News of your suitor is sustaining her, and so I must ask you to remain in London for the nonce. We shall have your uncle and aunt visit in the new year, perhaps with the children.

Neither Mamma nor Papa had mentioned her.

Elizabeth supposed that was not terribly surprising. In the few days before Elizabeth had left for London, a great deal had happened. Mr. Collins had offered for her, she had refused him, her mother had been indignant, her father had firmly dismissed the indignation, and Mr. Collins had attached himself to Charlotte Lucas with such rapidity that Mamma had been left with a substantial grievance and nowhere to put it. Christmas was not so far removed from the end of November that her mother would have forgotten who was to blame for her disappointment, and Papa would not have wished to stir the pot. Best to allow Mamma to dwell on happier matters.

The question of travel had therefore required no further discussion. Christmas had been kept in the City. The day after, Mr. Bingley had appeared with a small basket of greenhouse oranges and invited them to a Twelfth Night celebration.

That had been the simple part of the past fortnight. There had also been a dinner on the twenty-eighth, a musical evening on the second of January, and Lady Anne’s morning call at Gracechurch Street on the fourth, which had occupied the household for the entirety of the third.

On the sixth, Mr. Bingley took them all in his carriage to The Aldonberry home, where the Twelfth Night celebrations were held. The Darcys had been invited, but Mr. Bingley said they had declined.

Mr. Bingley had been surrounded by friends and had introduced Jane to each of them. Today, Jane had received him in the drawing room, and the household had returned to its proper business.

Now, on the eighth, there was another card upon the silver salver inviting them to Darcy House on the tenth.

Four invitations over two weeks.

Mr. Bingley had called at Gracechurch Street regularly since he had discovered Jane was in town, and Lady Anne was nothing if not observant. While she might have invited Jane without Elizabeth, she had been kind enough not to do so, and therefore, where Jane went, Elizabeth went too—most often with Aunt Gardiner, though her uncle had been invited to join them for the evening engagements.

Unfortunately, Lady Anne seemed to believe that the best way to maintain everyone’s comfort was not to leave Elizabeth at home but to find her a suitor as well. And as she was not ready to be made the object of yet another matchmaking mamma, she was certain to disappoint.

Lady Anne’s morning call on Monday had ended in an extended tête-à-tête in the small parlour, during which Lady Anne had asked Elizabeth more about her favourite poets, her opinion on Miss Edgeworth and Mrs. Radcliffe, and finally, her aunt’s family in Lambton. It was as though she was composing a letter of reference but had not yet determined what she would say. Perhaps “lively, tolerably well read, neither intimidated by nor heedless of those with titles.”

It was, Elizabeth had concluded after Lady Anne returned home, a remarkably gracious form of containment. She could not even resent it, not really. There was a great deal to respect in a mother who would go to such lengths merely to aid her son’s good friend while at the same time sparing her son the company of a woman he found tiresome. Elizabeth appreciated Lady Anne, even admired her. But her attentions had begun to wear thin. Elizabeth glanced again at the card on the table.

“Aunt,” she said.

Her aunt looked up from her seam. “Yes, dear?”

“Lady Anne’s party tomorrow evening . . .

“Yes?”