Chapter 42
T hat small moment of triumph notwithstanding, I was forced to concede a bit of ground on the following day. My idea had been well founded, but the execution of my plan to entertain Mrs Bennet and her daughters was another matter altogether.
We congregated in front of the Western Exchange, having arrived in three carriages, and it was then that my confidence wavered, and I came to an abrupt stand. Our party, which included Mrs Gardiner and her eleven-year-old daughter, consisted of ten ladies and one gentleman—me.
“Did you indeed just blink, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth asked archly at my elbow.
Fortunately for me, Mrs Annesley and Mrs Gardiner knew precisely how to proceed, and I did not have to answer her.
Taking possession of Mrs Bennet’s arm, Mrs Gardiner propelled her sister-in-law into Miss Berry’s establishment, and Mrs Annesley, adept at the management of young ladies, led Lydia, Kitty, and young Miss Gardiner to the milliner’s shop nearby.
Mary was on the verge of complaining that none of this was to her liking when Georgiana suggested they step into the bazaar to search for sheet music, and together with Jane, they struck off without a backwards glance.
This left me alone with Elizabeth and the opportunity to belatedly reply. “You should learn not to doubt my luck,” I said.
“You would not be quite so smug if you had ever witnessed my mother and sisters bickering in front of a shop on a public street. You, sir, will score no points for your sister’s companion having rescued you.”
“I declare kings and aces, however, since I had the great good sense to employ her. And it was a streak of genius on my part to invite Mrs Gardiner, was it not?”
“Genius? We have not yet been shopping for five minutes. The day is young, and there are plenty of opportunities yet for you to regret this.”
I offered her my arm, and in contrast to her abuse of my intelligence, she seemed pleased enough to take it.
“Which party do you suggest we join for the highest possibility of seeing me properly mortified?” I asked.
“As much as I would like to see you trailing after my mother, it is best we linger here in plain sight, lest we lose track of where they all are.”
“Excellent,” I said, leading her towards the window of a jewellery shop a few steps away. “I wonder—do you prefer pearls or diamonds?”
“Both, Mr Darcy,” she said with a gurgle of pleasure. “Heaps and heaps of them on my tiaras and draped around my neck, and,” she said, holding up her hands to the light as if to admire them, “I must have rings on every finger.”
“I wish at least once today you would be serious.”
She grinned up at me, and with her eyes alight, she scoffed, “Serious? About the subject of ornament? Impossible. I should perhaps explain that upon some incidental mention of one of Miss Darcy’s bracelets after my return from Pemberley, my youngest sisters became quite interested in the subject of gemstones. ”
“I take it you did not join them in their studies?”
“They had some wild notion we should know a diamond from glass, which—Mary claimed, and I could not but agree—is a distinction that is quite useless to us.
But I digress. The real reason why I cannot be serious about jewellery is that their determination to be experts led to one of the most absurd arguments I have ever witnessed.
Even you would have laughed when Kitty found an object on the floor, raised it to the light and cried, ‘Look what I found! This must be a rough emerald or at the very least a peridot!’
“It was, in fact, only a dried pea, but in fairness, it was so desiccated it did look like a green pebble in need of faceting and polishing. Poor Kitty’s belated arrival at this embarrassing conclusion was, however, so dramatic for her—and Lydia laughed so hard she nearly made herself ill—even my mother could not excuse their noise and sent them to their rooms.”
“You are free to try all you like to make me despise your family, Elizabeth,” I said gently, “but you cannot do it.”
I was close enough to see her sharp intake of breath, and because she still had her hand on my arm, I felt her go still.
After a painful pause and with her lashes lowered and a most delicate shade of pink infusing her cheeks, she said, “I am beginning to suspect you are a very stubborn man, Mr Darcy.”
“You have no notion of just how stubborn I intend to be for your sake, Elizabeth. So what is it to be? Sapphires? Rubies? Diamonds?”
“If you must have a serious answer to your question,” she said quietly, “the truth is that I prefer my grandmother’s garnets to anything I see in that case.”
And then, in a mannerism so typical of a woman who was determined to be happy, she lifted her face to me and smiled. “And you, Mr Darcy? Do you prefer pearls or diamonds?”
“If I am honest,” I said, looking pointedly at the glint of gold on her neck, “I too am becoming quite partial to your grandmother’s garnets.”