Chapter Forty-Seven

“ I note that Oliver Cranshaw did not attend the wedding,” Mrs. Houghton remarked to Mrs. Gardiner. “It is a pity, for he has missed quite the spectacle.”

“His Lordship did not seem to be a gentleman wholly devoted to spectacles, Mrs. Houghton,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. “I do not even know that he has been in town recently. I heard from Lady Matlock that his mama has been unwell.”

“Yes,” agreed Mrs. Houghton absently as she regarded the excellent cut of Mrs. Gardiner's gown, “she very often is. Since the tragedy in her family, one can scarcely blame her.” She paused, lifting her glass to her lips. “This wine is excellent.”

“I am pleased you approve, Mrs. Houghton. My husband has recently invested in importing many bottles from France and we brought a dozen with us to celebrate our nieces’ happiness.”

“A fine way to mark it, I should say.” Mrs. Houghton smiled, caught by the sight of Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley laughing together, with the sunlight through the window shining golden on Mrs. Bingley's pale hair. “Many a hostess in town will try to replicate this day, madam, and fail. I grow fearfully sentimental in my old age, perhaps, but I would wager that the joy of those two young ladies will only rarely be repeated. However sympathetic I am to Oliver Cranshaw's disappointment, I find this to be the best of conclusions for our white ghosts.”

“It is a strange notion that society should have so named them, for they are both full of life — it is part of their charm.”

The older lady nodded. “Perhaps. I am experienced enough to recognise that the higher echelons of society can be whimsical. I note, for example, that Lady Langley is set upon courting Miss Bennet for her son. I wonder how they will get on. Rumour has it that the young lady gave him a rare trimming when they first met.”

Observing Mrs. Gardiner's expression of polite interest caused Mrs. Houghton genuine amusement. “Come, come, Mrs. Gardiner; I may be a dreadful gossip but I have proven, I hope, that I mean your nieces well. Is it true then? Rumour has it that there was an accident — that Langley and his foolish club collided with Mr. Bennet's carriage and Miss Mary lost her temper.”

Mrs. Gardiner sighed. “I am almost relieved that rumour is so inaccurate as it is, although how you should know so much as you do is astonishing. Very well, part of it is true but you must not think Mary to be a virago or any such thing — she is a steady sort of girl in general.”

“I should like her very well if she were a virago, Mrs. Gardiner. There are few things more crushing than boredom, after all, and if I must watch a season of dull, dimwitted ninnyhammers be presented on the marriage mart after this year's amusements I shall be disappointed. Another Bennet sister with a sharp tongue might be the very thing to stave off ennui. What of the younger two Miss Bennets? Shall they consign me to boredom? I see Miss Catherine likes to hide in the corner with Miss Darcy. Are they the sort that ever speak above a whisper, I wonder?”

“I think, Mrs. Houghton, that you should remake the acquaintance of Miss de Bourgh. She is unusual enough to give you great entertainment for years.”

“Lady Catherine Fitzwilliam's daughter? How so?”

“Oh, something of a rebellion against her mother and the normal ways of society, along with a strong like of having her own way, is producing an effect. ”

Mrs. Houghton's eyes gleamed. “Her mama will not like that. There never was one for being willful like Lady Catherine — her sister was the opposite until she was pushed too far. Ah, Miss Bingley, how pleasant it is to see you again.”

Miss Bingley curtseyed to the ladies, evidently pleased that Mrs. Houghton had acknowledged her but conflicted with regards to the deference due to Mrs. Gardiner of Cheapside .

“We were just reminiscing on dear Mrs. Darcy's late mama-in-law, but of course you would not have met her. Before that we were discussing poor Lord Cranshaw’s disappointment. I daresay, having secured so excellent a sister-in-law, you can spare a little pity for her unsuccessful suitors.”

Discomfort was writ on Miss Bingley's face. “I had not heard that Lord Cranshaw…that is, how amusing you are, Mrs. Houghton. It is, of course, excellent for my family that dearest Jane should have consented to marry Charles.” Stiffly, she added, “It is a good match for both of them.”

Perhaps doubting Miss Bingley's sincerity, Mrs. Houghton considered the young woman before her. “You do right to say it is an excellent match for your family, Miss Bingley, and I must compliment you on your becoming humility. Perhaps there is hope for you yet. I trust that you will do equal credit to your relations. I recommend emulating your new sister-in-law, if it be possible. Do you not agree, Mrs. Gardiner?”

“Few people in the world can properly emulate Jane — she is extraordinarily gracious, after all.”

Miss Bingley, who was intelligent enough to recognise that a comparison between her and Mrs. Bingley could only be to her detriment, bit back a sneer and excused herself. “I had meant to try a little more of the duck, madam; pray excuse me.”

In her haste she almost collided with Miss Lydia Bennet, who was obliged to take a swift, neat step backwards in order not to spill the punch in her hand.

“Miss Lydia Bennet, how graceful you are — what a pity it is that there is no dancing today or you might have all eyes upon you, as I am sure you would enjoy.”

Lydia, blinking at the sudden attack, soon recovered and shook her head. “So I might if there were to be dancing, Miss Bingley, but I had my fill of attention as I walked up the aisle this morning so I cannot regret it. I enjoyed that tremendously. Did you have a good view in the church? I am afraid I did not notice where you were despite the hue of your gown. I wonder,” Lydia pondered doubtfully, “did you think the puce to be a good…but I am afraid I have delayed you in your journey to the tables of food. I must not keep you here to discuss fashion — I am sure you look prodigiously hungry.”

Miss Bingley, two bright spots appearing on pale cheeks, turned on her heel, blindly resuming her quest to cross the room .

Lydia watched her go. She was not a malicious girl but there was no small measure of satisfaction to be had in seeing off a known adversary. She heard a soft laugh behind her and turned in surprise to behold a gentleman stooping at her feet.

“I believe you dropped an item belonging to you, Miss Lydia,” he said, holding out an object he had retrieved from the rug. “No doubt Miss Bingley caused it to fall when you were obliged to avoid a collision.”

Lydia froze, her fingers tightening on the silver handle of her cup, and she blinked to clear her vision. Seeing that she was too taken aback to reply, Mr. Sutton proffered the item in his hand once again.

“I must beg your pardon, Miss Lydia Bennet — it seems to be your allotted fate that others should stumble into your path. Your property, madam.”

Recovering, Lydia reached out to take the item from his hand. “How could you be here , sir? You will not tell…?” She looked down at the object. A silver hatpin with a deadly sharp point was in her hand. “But this is not mine.”

“I am loath to contradict you, but it most assuredly is yours,” Mr. Sutton replied firmly. “And you may be assured that there is nothing for me to tell.”

Her amazement passed in a moment. Lydia expelled the breath that she had been holding in a great rush and smiled broadly at her stranger. “Oh!” she exclaimed, her face alight with sincerity. “How glad I am that you are here. How…how glad . I have been thinking about you often.”

“I am honoured.”

“No, no, not at all, it is only…but it is too crowded here — will you step into the garden with me? I mean only through those doors there, and there are plenty of people about.”

“As you please, Miss Lydia.”

Lydia led him through the crowded rooms until they reached the garden. As soon as there was room for a little privacy she turned. “I have wanted to thank you. I do not even know your name. I thought it might be years until I saw you again — how I have scolded myself that I did not ask you, especially when you discovered who I was.”

“You were greatly distressed that day. You must not rebuke yourself.”

“Yes,” she agreed with a grimace, remembering. “I suppose I was. Tell me, who are you?”

“My name is Anton Sutton. I am entirely at your service.”

“Sutton!” Lydia's sudden laughter made the corner of his mouth turn up. “Lizzy wrote of you, you know — she related all the most interesting acquaintances she met in London. I even wove you into one of my fabrications when I was…well, when it was necessary for me to do so. It was the day before I met you.” She held out her hand, after swiftly transferring the hatpin to her other. “Thank you, Mr. Sutton, for your goodness to me on what was the very worst day of my life. You cannot know it, but it was your intervention that turned it all around. You gave me hope, sir. I cannot ever repay that.”

He slowly reached forth and shook the hand she offered. In a low voice he said, “A small service, Miss Lydia, given the insult I offered you.”

“You mean, I suppose, that you said I almost looked like a lady.” Cheerfully she shrugged it off. “I own it made me cross at the time, but really, what were you to think when you met me then?” Smiling impishly, Lydia peeped at him. “I hope you think I look more convincingly like a lady today.”

His eyes warmed but he said only, “Your looking glass answers that more eloquently than I may. I am glad at least to see you are more at ease than you were. There is no need for your bravery in the face of desperation, and the weapon in your hand is not bloodstained.”

Lydia remembered the hatpin and turned it over in her hand. It was prettily decorated but she could feel the strength in the shaft. “How well I recall that day. Some of it, you know, is a blur, but I remember meeting you and speaking with you so very clearly — is this indeed for me?”

“It is. You will note the point on the end, I trust, should you ever require it again.”

“I shall treasure it, Mr. Sutton — you have my thanks. Although I think I had better say I bought it for myself. No one will know any better, for it is just to my taste. You chose delightfully.”

“I note that Mr. Darcy has observed us, Miss Lydia, and I am not a favourite of his, so I think we only have a few more minutes left to speak. I will be swift then. You said, my dear, that you had escaped a fortune hunter — is he the reason you wandered London, alone and helpless? Did he abandon you there? I would have his name from you before I depart.”

Seeing her brother-in-law advancing upon them with Mrs. Darcy on his arm, but currently waylaid by well-wishers, Lydia dropped her voice to a whisper. “Yes, you have the right it — but only partly. He tried to take me to Scotland against my will. I am almost certain he drugged me to make me sleep, you see, but I fled from him at Grantham. I shall not tell you his name — he has faced a certain justice and I am content that I will never need to lay eyes on him again. It will all be forgotten, which I am vastly relieved about. I do not mean to seek revenge, only to find the few who helped me along the way and repay them, if I am able.”

Quickly and quietly, she told the tall almost-stranger of the boy with the cart, the stern-looking lady on the stage, the maid at Swift Nick’s, and the Finchleys, all who had helped her. “There is only one man who I am sorry will escape retribution — and it was he I stabbed in the hand when I got off the stage at Alconbury.”

Mr. Sutton looked displeased. “You trust me this much but you will not name the man who exposed you to such danger?”

“If I did and you thrashed him, you would have to beat me also, Mr. Sutton, for I exposed myself to danger as much as he did me. He is not blameless, but neither am I.” Speaking quickly, desperate to make use of the few moments she had, she continued, “I am to go to a seminary in Bath — Papa sends me to Miss Hatterchet's and I mean to make good use of my rescue. If I turn out well, I shall have you to thank.” She did not divulge her fledgling desire that he should meet her in five years to be proud of the woman she would become — that was a thought she had not fully acknowledged to herself .

“Lydia!” Mrs. Darcy's tone was sweetly amused. It had been her husband's sense of brotherly concern that led the pair of them from the drawing room. “Here you are, dearest. Fitzwilliam has convinced me to walk out in the garden with him.”

Concealing the hatpin in her pocket, Lydia greeted her sister. “I do not know how you will speak to all these people before you leave, Lizzy — there are ever so many guests. I do not think I have ever seen the house so full.”

“It has been a delight to see so many of our friends wish us well. My husband,” and here Mrs. Darcy paused to smile lovingly at the man beside her, “informs me that he encountered you while he was north, Mr. Sutton. We are pleased that you came here today.”

Sutton bowed. “I would not have missed such an opportunity as this, Mrs. Darcy.” He did not look at Lydia, but she knew he meant her and concealed her pleasure as best she could. “Particularly when Mr. Bingley was kind enough to say I might come.” He glanced around the garden. “It might almost be said that to be in this charming corner of Hertfordshire is absolute necessity if one claims to be part of the fashionable world.”

Lifting a brow, Elizabeth smiled. “I do not think we can claim the space to accommodate the entirety of high society, Mr. Sutton.”

Lydia, not content as Mr. Darcy was to be a bystander in the conversation, interjected, “Besides which, we are not quite in the corner of Hertfordshire here in Meryton, you know. I have been looking at ever so many maps of England and we are fairly centrally located, if a little to the south of the county.”

Mr. Sutton appeared to find this information interesting. “You have an interest in cartography, Miss Lydia?”

“I do not precisely know what that means but if you are thinking that I enjoy maps for their own sake, that is not so.” She hesitated and met his eye earnestly. “I have the greatest dislike of being lost and that is why I have borrowed Papa's maps. I have already traced your route into Essex, Lizzy. It is only into the next county, you know.

Mrs. Darcy smiled again, this time with a gentle sympathy. “Mr. Darcy will not permit us to become lost, my dear. Speaking of which, Mr. Darcy, have you satisfied yourself that all is in proper order in the garden? We must bid farewell to everyone before we leave, after all. ”

It seemed that Mr. Darcy had resigned himself to a teasing wife for he led her back into the house with only the slight lift of a brow to show he knew what Lizzy was about. The new Mrs. Darcy was all loveliness in her amusement when he had expressed concern that her youngest sister should be caught in conversation with Mr. Sutton. Elizabeth had appeased him by saying that she wished to step outside into the sunlight at any rate, so they might as well spend a few minutes to ensure that nothing improper was being said.

“There now, my love, are you relieved that the conversation between them was on a subject so dull as maps? I appreciate that you think Mr. Sutton to be the most scandalous of men, and one day I do trust you will enlighten me as to what that actually means, but we can safely say that Lydia is in no danger there.”

His admission that she was in the right was indirect. “Georgiana and Miss Catherine appear to be content to be in one another's company.” He gestured to where they sat together watching Mr. Fitzroy and Miss Lucas engage in animated discussion .

“Oh yes! You might call her Kitty, Fitzwilliam — she is too awed by you to invite you herself but I am sure it would be better.” She pressed his hand. “You might even call me Lizzy, if you liked, but if you feel that is far too familiar, I promise that I shall not tease you about it.”

Her husband smiled, as was her object. “I am hesitant to disbelieve anything you say, Mrs. Darcy, but…”

“How well that sounds coming from your lips, my love. I have changed my mind — I must be Mrs. Darcy henceforth for I like it better from you than anything in the world.”

“But,” continued he, as though she had not spoken, “I doubt your resolution not to tease me would last more than an hour at most.”

“During our engagement Mr. Robilard told Jane and me that we must be relieved when we are married, as if we were to make any foolish promises, our husbands would have until sunset of that day to forbid the vow. Is that not an odd thing for a vicar to say to brides on their wedding day?”

“It is certainly obscure.”

“It was only marginally less odd than his attempt to compliment Jane and me on our gowns — he said that we looked very well but wondered why we had not chosen to dress identically.”

A moment was taken to admire the high-waisted cream gown that had been embroidered with gold thread. The cut was simple and Elizabeth knew it suited her. She waited patiently for him to complete his perusal.

“You are very beautiful, Mrs. Darcy,” he said, quietly and she blushed.

“Upon hearing you say that, Fitzwilliam,” Lizzy murmured, “I think perhaps you had better call me Elizabeth after all — though perhaps not here.” Laughter suddenly overcame her. “What a pity it is that we may not steal away to the woods. Are there woods where we are going tonight?”

“Perhaps we might discuss it as we travel,” replied he, firmly. “In the meantime, we had much better speak to my aunt Matlock — she means to take charge of Georgiana for a few weeks.”

“Are we going to have discussions in the carriage? I had not imagined we would. Very well, Fitzwilliam, I will cease now. I had meant to tell Her Ladyship that Georgiana must return to Pemberley the very minute she begins to feel a longing for home, and we shall not mind a bit.”

It took another hour for the couples to make their way around Longbourn to receive the felicitations of their friends and relations. As the clock struck three, Mrs. Darcy was handed up into the carriage. Her sisters had made the process a little more awkward for their new brother-in-law, eager as they were to kiss their sister farewell.

“Write to me, Lizzy — I shall direct my letters to Pemberley when we are come from Scarborough.”

“I promise that I will, Jane. I hope my brother's aunts are properly adoring of you when you pay them a visit or I shall rally the troops to your defence.”

“Of course she will write, Lizzy! I daresay Mary has already begun her first letter to you — I will write also. You will want to hear how I get on at school, I am sure. Aunt Gardiner promises that she will send baskets of delicacies if I am a good student for a month. You could do the same if you wished.”

“I am sure I could, Lydia, if I wished,” laughed Lizzy. “Come now, Kitty, come, Mary — kiss me quickly, my dears, before I disgrace myself by weeping. No, I jest — I am too happy for that. There!” She met her husband's eye. “Is it difficult to hand up a wife with so many sisters, sir?”

“It is certainly a novel experience, not having any basis for comparison.”

“I am glad to hear it. What a time to discover you might have previous wives! It would make for an excessively awkward journey, I am sure.”

“You have bade sufficient farewells, Mrs. Darcy?”

“Yes, for I made sure to speak to Papa last night and Mama — well, you saw that, I know.”

He climbed up after her and the footman shut the door. “Mrs. Bennet appeared to be unsure how she ought to feel.”

“Dear Mama! She is both delighted and sorrowful, but determined that she should enjoy today to the fullest. She is a little like Lydia in that respect — neither of them permits the potential discomfort of tomorrow from spoiling their happiness in the present.”

He signalled to his servants that they should depart. “I am relieved that Miss Lydia's near disaster in the past has not caused her distress for the future.”

“I too. She is a resilient girl, is she not? It comforts me that she is resigned to making use of her time at school. I think her experiences while she was gone frightened her, Fitzwilliam — I am afraid she does not sleep well. Do you mean to sit across from me, my love, or shall you like to sit beside me once we are out of the town? If you intend to admire me from where you are, you may, of course, but I for one prefer to be very near you. You have taught me to enjoy your company thus.”

Mr. Darcy swallowed and momentarily glanced out of the window to collect himself before changing his position to accommodate his wife’s preference .

Lizzy examined his face and raised a lace-gloved hand to his cheek. “What is it, my dear? Have I troubled you with my boldness? ”

He kissed the hand and shook his head. “Not in the least, Elizabeth. I encourage you to speak thus as gives you pleasure. Do you recall when we were in Kent, when Anne declined the offer of marriage I had distinctly not made? I believe we were in Mr. Collins's garden.”

“It would be prodigiously difficult to forget that, Fitzwilliam; Miss de Bourgh seemed so set on believing me to be against the institution of matrimony — which, as you see,” this with a low laugh, “I am not.”

“She asked you for your reasons — why you would even consider marrying if you had no need to.”

“I believe she said something about my having sufficient fortune, family, and connections.”

“Yes. You replied that you would wed for love, for likemindedness, and — this expression has particularly haunted me — for the joy to be found in another's company.”

“It is very pleasant to be proven consistent in word and deed, is it not?” Lizzy replied, as she arranged herself to her satisfaction within the circle of her husband's arms and rested her head against his shoulder. “No, I must take my bonnet off, beautiful though it is, for I will not be denied leaning against my own husband in comfort.” She did so, and with an air of fulfilment, resumed her previous attitude. “If I am correct, Fitzwilliam, your cousin seemed to find the concept of loving and desiring to care for a husband to be vulgar — I see that you are not of her mind.”

“It is my aunt's mind rather than Anne's, but we need not discuss that now.”

“Ah yes, but you did promise we should talk on this journey to…to Abingdon Hall, was it not? Your friend, Mr. Abingdon, has a spare hunting lodge that he begs us to make use of while he is on the continent. How strange to find myself in such circles where one's friends have unused dwellings!”

Mr. Darcy bent to kiss her, and for a while, the conversation in the carriage ceased.

A little time later, Mrs. Darcy drew on her gloves and inexpertly attempted to assist her husband in straightening the cravat that had somehow been made untidy .

“No, a valet I shall never be, Fitzwilliam, but I have done my best. I suppose the guests will be leaving Longbourn now — it is odd to think that Mama and my remaining sisters will soon gather in the drawing room to discuss the day. It is what we always do after a ball or a party. Sometimes Papa will come in for a few minutes — until the conversation moves to fripperies and frills, that is.”

“Perhaps they will not do so,” Mr. Darcy suggested, handing a hairpin to his wife, “now that you and Mrs. Bingley are not by to join them.”

“I hope that they will — it is nice to think that the tradition will continue, even if we are to begin new ones in our own homes.”

Elizabeth raised the shade beside them and looked out. The light shone on green fields and hedgerows. The sun, she supposed, was just at the right height that even now at Longbourn the curtain must be drawn a little way across the window in the drawing room. The office would likely be tasked to Kitty, as she invariably liked to sit near that window of an evening .

Mrs. Darcy was, of course, correct in her suppositions, for at Longbourn only moments earlier, Mrs. Bennet had wearily made a request to her daughter.

“Do draw that curtain a little way across, Kitty, my dear. The sunlight pierces my eyes so and I do not like to move my chair, for I am so comfortable.”

Kitty rose to do so and her mama watched the task being done, sighing with relief when the bright sun was blocked from her view.

“I will say, Kitty, you look very well in that gown. It was an excellent choice to have that pattern made up in white silk — for all that I favoured the pink.”

“I for one,” said Miss Bennet, “am relieved that Jane and Lizzy preferred white and am doubly thankful that they did not insist on so much lace for their bridesmaids as Jane's gown sported.”

“Oh! My dear Mrs. Bingley was a vision.” Mrs. Bennet closed her eyes the better to remember her triumph. “ Everybody said so, and Mrs. Darcy also did us credit, did she not, Mr. Bennet?”

Mr. Bennet, who had just entered the room with a glass of porter to enjoy, begged that she repeat her question so that he might give it the due consideration deserved.

“Aye,” he quipped, when his wife did so, “they certainly looked well enough that their bridegrooms did not abscond in horror. The credit must go to you for that, Mrs. Bennet, and to the dressmaker who will shortly be presenting me with a bill of astonishing length, I am sure.”

“Mr. Bennet, you know we need not trouble ourselves with that — for my brother Gardiner said that business could not be better. Our girls will have such large fortunes by their majorities. What a fine thing it is that Lizzy and Jane went to London. Nothing could be better! And to think that I thought Elizabeth might waste herself on so silly a man as Mr. Collins — it is not to be thought of!”

“Lizzy would certainly prefer if it were not thought of. She seemed well pleased today, did she not? Her husband is not of a particularly mirthful disposition but I daresay he smiled more at his bride than I have ever seen. I have confidence that theirs will be a happy marriage.”

Hill entered the drawing room with a tray upon which were the coffee pot and cups. “Sarah is behind me with the tea tray, madam, and Monsieur Moreau has left a fine cake for you to enjoy.

The three young ladies rose as one to admire the cake. “It looks to be a sponge-cake,” exclaimed Lydia. “Shall I cut you a slice, Mama? We may then see what is inside it — did he say, Hill?”

“No, Miss Lydia, although I saw he had the caraway seeds out in the kitchen. He does not trouble himself to put them away, that is for sure. I never saw the like of the man — he employs a person to walk about after him and put away whatever he thinks of using.”

“Thank you, Hill. You and the rest of the servants may have your bowl of punch now, and make merry. I shall just have a small slice, Lydia, my dear.” Mrs. Bennet watched critically as Lydia took up the knife, and when the slice had been cut large enough to satisfy her, she received her plate happily .

Mary and Mr. Bennet declined the cake but Kitty and Lydia took one slice each, half the size of their mama's. Upon finishing the treat, it was declared to be a very good cake indeed.

“I wish Jane and Lizzy might try some,” said Kitty, softly, “but I suppose they will have their own cake now.”

Mary sighed her agreement and Lydia looked a little wistfully at her empty plate. “To be sure, Kitty, they will likely have their own cake. It is a pity we cannot keep some for them.” She wrinkled her brow in thought. “I suppose we might write in our letters how delicious it was and they might have their share in that way.”

Miss Bennet emitted a short laugh. “If you received a letter detailing a pleasing food but could not partake of it, you would think it an unkind tease.”

Lydia nodded. “Yes, I suppose that is so. Well, there is nothing to be done for it then but eat it ourselves. What shall we do now? There is far too much of the evening left to go to bed and we no longer have the numbers to dance a reel.”

“Unless Papa wishes to partner one of us,” suggested Kitty reasonably. “I do not mind doing the male steps with you, Lydia.”

“I thank you, Catherine, but do hold your mother and me excused,” came Mr. Bennet's quietly emphatic reply.

Miss Catherine Bennet propped her chin on her hand and devoted herself to thought. It was plain to all when she believed herself to have hit upon a good notion, for she brightened visibly.

“I have it!” Kitty exclaimed. “Why do we not all play at cards?”

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet exchanged a glance and Papa set down his glass. “I would be willing to indulge in a game or two this evening. It is just the thing.”

“Mary?”

“Yes, very well, Kitty, I will play. Shall you fetch the pack?”

Lydia stood up. “I will also play. After all, now that Jane is not here one of us has a much greater hope of actually winning a hand.”

“It will be most interesting to see what a difference Jane's absence makes,” agreed Mary cautiously. “As Lizzy always says, there is little point in cards if Jane is with us.”

Mr. Bennet held the chair out for his wife to sit before taking the one beside her. “Well then, all that must be done now is for us to agree upon a game and the rules thereof. What is to be?”

Kitty came to the table with the pack and carefully positioned it in the centre of the table. She glanced up, having completed her task, to see what ideas the others might have .

“Might we not,” Mrs. Bennet suggested, with a smile to her husband, “play at loo?”

FINIS.

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