Chapter 7 #2
Miss Taylor, who had been bustling about the room, stopped mid-stride. “Do not be giving her a swelled head now, Miss Bennet. And, believe me, our Miss Hughes Baker can indeed be prickly at times.”
Tapping her chin, Miss Hughes spoke slowly.
“What will be my first expenditure when I receive an inheritance? Perhaps it should be the acquisition of a refined lady’s maid who does not disparage her employer.
Oh, speaking of refined and grand, Miss Darcy told me that her uncle is an earl.
Despite that, both she and her brother seemed nice.
Earlier today, before you entered the sitting room, they conveyed their condolences to Aunt Baker and me on our loss.
And, like me, the Darcys have lost both their parents. ”
Again, Elizabeth thanked God that her own mother and father were healthy. Now if someone could only cure Mama’s nerves.
“I must say that Mr Darcy was not at all as I expected him to be. And he paid such marked attention to you, Miss Bennet, that Aunt and I wondered whether the gentleman might find you handsome enough to tempt him after all.”
“Stop right there, if you please.”
“No, I shall not. We all saw you trying to touch Mr Darcy’s hand. Or was it his leg?” Miss Hughes snorted, then ended up in a fit of giggles.
“Miss Hughes!” cried her lady’s maid. “I am sure she was not attempting to do any such thing.”
Although Elizabeth loved hearing her young friend’s laughter, she felt obliged to defend herself.
“Good grief. You know I was not. And thank you, Miss Taylor, for your endorsement. I merely meant to steady Mr Darcy’s cup and saucer, which just so happened to be resting upon his muscled thigh.
” She could not suppress her own giggle.
“Truly! And, as though too close to a flame, I quickly pulled my fingers away.”
“Perhaps you were too close.” Miss Hughes smirked at her. “Your colour was alarmingly high.”
Elizabeth stepped down from the bed and put on her shoes. “And with that, I shall say good night, my dear Miss Hughes Baker. Good night, Miss Taylor.”
At the door, she blew her friend a kiss.
The next evening, the party from Strandsmere Park came to dine at Cliff House.
Upon their much-anticipated arrival, considerable time was spent on introductions, how-do-you-dos, and other commonplace enquiries. There followed then the sort of polite conversation known as ‘civil whiskers’ where nothing important was discussed and nothing controversial mentioned.
Accustomed to such chit-chat, Elizabeth spoke to the Bakers’ guests with little conscious thought nor attention, instead using the time to form first impressions of the Wright family.
It had taken her but a moment to perceive that they were a handsome bunch with an uncommon union of symmetry, brilliancy, and grace.
The three sisters looked nearly identical if one took into consideration the difference in their ages and the predominance of red in their hair.
The eldest was the handsomest, save for an unsightly pimple upon her forehead that she had obviously tried to conceal with some sort of cosmetic.
That they were a proud, vain lot was also at once evident, for not one of them had passed by the gilt-framed hall mirror without taking an admiring glance at their own golden reflections.
Elizabeth chose to disregard the fact that she had examined her own appearance in that same mirror the day prior, just before Mr Darcy would set eyes upon her again.
She observed that Miss Wright clung to Mr Darcy’s side not unlike a strong adhesive.
However, Elizabeth frequently caught him staring in her own direction, and it seemed his adherent had noticed as well.
Of course, Elizabeth would not have observed any of that had her eyes not so often strayed to the gentleman, and she had to admit that the previous day’s discussion of the word debate had been ridiculously enjoyable.
Just as she was about to turn her attention to Miss Margaret and Miss Althea, who were chatting with Miss Darcy, Miss Hughes sidled up beside her.
“May we have a moment in private, please?” Her friend glanced behind her to where Mr Wright was speaking to her aunt and uncle.
Taking Elizabeth’s hand, she steered her into an alcove.
“I overheard Mr Wright enquiring about my dowry, which is entirely beyond his concern.” She gave an exaggerated shiver, and a look of revulsion passed across her face.
“He is a widower. Could he be interested in marrying me?”
“Surely not. He is old enough to be your grandfather.”
“When has that ever stopped a man from taking a young bride with a dowry?”
“True. But remember that you have every right to refuse an unwanted marriage proposal. I took advantage of that prerogative myself when Mr Collins made me an offer.”
Tom entered the drawing room and spoke quietly to Miss Baker.
Raising her voice then above the chatter, the hostess announced, “Dinner is served,” and began herding everyone towards the formal dining room.
“Do not forget your shawl, Miss Darcy dear. Watch your step now, Miss Margaret, for the floor takes a dip just there. Please, everyone, we do not stand upon ceremony. Sit wherever you like.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mr Darcy appeared at her side and offered one arm to her and one to Miss Hughes.
At the table, she found herself standing opposite Miss Hannah Wright, with whom she might form a friendship over the coming weeks, and she wondered why the gentleman had not escorted his faithful adherent to the dining room.
By the look on the lady’s face, Miss Wright was pondering the same question.
Standing behind and between Miss Hughes and Elizabeth, Mr Darcy obviously expected to seat them both.
Will he take for himself the empty chair to Miss Hughes’s left or the one on my right?
No longer feeling so strongly opposed to the gentleman as she had been in Hertfordshire, Elizabeth hoped she might have the pleasure of conversing with him during the course of the evening.