Chapter 11
Salt in the Tea
Elizabeth entered the breakfast room the next morning determined to preserve a composed and sensible frame of mind. The resolution survived perhaps thirty seconds.
Mr. Wilson rose the instant she passed the threshold, nearly upsetting his coffee in the effort. “Miss Elizabeth! I had begun to fear you meant to abandon us all to solitary suffering.”
Elizabeth paused beside Jane’s chair. “At breakfast?”
“One may suffer at any hour.”
Mr. Bennet lowered his newspaper slightly. “An observation I have long suspected true.”
Mrs. Bennet hid a smile behind her teacup.
Elizabeth seated herself beside Jane with as much calm as she could muster while Mr. Wilson resumed his own place only after first ensuring she lacked for nothing on the table.
He passed the preserves before she requested them, offered cream she did not want, and asked whether she slept well with the solemn concern of a physician.
She answered politely through all of it. Internally, however, exhaustion had already begun gathering.
Across the table, Thomas and Toby watched the exchange with increasing disapproval. The twins had regained partial freedom from their punishment after several days of good behavior, though Mrs. Bennet still regarded them with wary attention whenever suspicious silence occurred.
At present they were very silent indeed.
Mary opened a book beside her plate while Lydia buttered toast with cheerful violence.
Mr. Wilson, apparently undeterred by Elizabeth’s measured civility, launched into another account of northern manufacturing difficulties before the servants had fully withdrawn from the room.
“The difficulty,” he declared while helping himself to ham, “lies in balancing firmness with fairness. A man cannot allow workers to dictate terms, and starvation breeds resentment faster than any agitator.”
“That sounds remarkably sensible,” Jane observed kindly.
Mr. Wilson beamed. “Precisely my thought, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth caught Toby rolling his eyes toward Thomas.
“Of course,” Wilson continued, “many mill owners are fools. They imagine wealth excuses poor management.”
Mr. Bennet folded his newspaper at last. “Fortune rarely improves fools. It merely finances them.”
Mrs. Bennet’s lips twitched.
Wilson chuckled loudly enough to make Mary blink. “Very true!” Then, turning back toward Elizabeth, he added, “Your father once said nearly the same thing to me—or rather, something very similar.”
Elizabeth managed a small smile. “My father seems to have provided you with a remarkable number of memorable observations.”
“A clever man leaves lasting impressions.”
The answer itself was harmless. The familiarity accompanying it was not.
Elizabeth lowered her eyes briefly toward her plate. She disliked the sensation of being persistently claimed through memories she herself barely possessed. Mr. Wilson spoke of her father almost proprietorially, as though distant connection granted intimacy automatically.
Beside her, Jane shifted slightly. “You are very pale this morning, Lizzy.”
“I am only tired.”
Mrs. Bennet glanced toward her. “You were overtaxed yesterday.”
“Not at all, Mama.”
Mr. Bennet peered over the top of his spectacles. “You have the expression of a woman contemplating escape routes.”
Elizabeth giggled despite herself. “Papa.”
Mr. Bennet shrugged good naturedly. “I merely observe.”
Mr. Wilson leaned forward eagerly. “If Miss Elizabeth desires exercise, I should be delighted to accompany her on a walk later this morning. The weather appears unusually pleasant for November.”
Elizabeth had just opened her mouth to frame some graceful refusal when Darcy’s name arose unexpectedly from Lydia.
“I wonder if Mr. Darcy walks every day,” she mused. “He looks like someone who would.”
The room shifted subtly.
Elizabeth felt it instantly and wished very much for Lydia to discover a sudden fascination with silence.
Mr. Wilson’s expression altered almost imperceptibly. “Darcy strikes me as a man much devoted to routine.”
“As one of his standing must be,” Mary supplied.
Mr. Bennet smiled into his coffee.
Elizabeth concentrated fiercely upon buttering toast.
“Mr. Darcy rides often,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Mr. Bingley mentioned it.”
“He is very handsome,” Lydia announced with complete irrelevance. “Though he looks severe when thinking.”
Mrs. Bennet gave her a look. “Lydia.”
“What? He does. I have seen him out the window often enough.”
Mr. Wilson laughed again, though this time the sound held less ease. “Ladies generally admire severity only in very rich gentlemen.”
Elizabeth took a sip of tea before answering. “Then society must be even more foolish than usual.”
Darcy’s defense emerged before she consciously intended it. The realization unsettled her enough that she spoke very little for the remainder of breakfast.
Still, she noticed things. Wilson attempting repeatedly to engage her directly.
Darcy’s name surfacing with increasing frequency whenever conversation lagged.
The twins exchanging meaningful looks whenever either gentleman arose in discussion.
And most dangerous of all, the growing awareness that Darcy never demanded her attention.
He simply noticed when she was uncomfortable. That distinction lingered long after breakfast ended.
Lydia caught Thomas and Toby in the upstairs corridor shortly before noon.
Both boys froze instantly, which alone guaranteed guilt.
Thomas stood half inside Mr. Wilson’s chamber holding one boot beneath his arm. Toby clutched the other while attempting unsuccessfully to look innocent.
Lydia stared. “What,” she demanded slowly, “are you doing?”
Neither answered promptly.
Toby recovered first. “Nothing.” His deliberate nonchalance made Lydia frown.
“You are carrying a man’s boots through the hallway.”
“Temporary boot relocation,” Thomas corrected.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “You are tormenting Cousin Wilson.”
“We are saving Lizzy,” Toby declared.
That captured her attention promptly. Lydia stepped closer. “From what?”
“Marriage.” Toby scowled.
Thomas nodded grimly. “He wants to marry her.”
Lydia appeared scandalized. “Already? He has not been at Longbourn for more than a few days.”
“He follows her everywhere.” Thomas twisted the boot in his hand.
Toby nodded vigorously. “And he talks endlessly.”
“And keeps trying to walk alone with her,” the other added.
Lydia considered this. “That does sound tiresome.” It was rather romantic, if she were honest with herself. How she would love having a man give his attentions to her!
The twins exchanged encouraging glances.
“And Darcy likes her,” Toby added.
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Mr. Darcy?” The severe, handsome man liked Lizzy?
“Obviously,” Thomas said.
Toby grinned. “He watches her constantly. And he apologized.”
“Properly.” Thomas sounded rather pleased.
Lydia leaned against the wall, fascinated now. “So, what does this have to do with stealing boots?”
“We are delaying him. Mr. Wilson, that is.” Toby cackled. “So that Lizzy can spend time with Darcy instead.”
Lydia’s grin spread slowly. “This is wicked.”
“This is necessary,” Thomas corrected.
“And romantic,” Toby added.
Lydia tilted her head. “What is in it for me?”
The twins stared.
“You require payment?” Thomas asked in disbelief.
“I require motivation,” Lydia corrected grandly. “Mama will be furious if she discovers any of this. Why should I not tell her and reap the reward of reporting your nonsense?”
Toby perked up suddenly. “If Jane and Lizzy marry, Kitty may come out sooner.”
Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Mama said we are not out until eighteen.”
“Yes,” Thomas said patiently, “and Kitty will be eighteen next July. If Kitty comes out, then Mama may allow you to attend smaller gatherings.”
Lydia paused.
The twins pressed forward mercilessly, speaking so quickly it was hard to follow who said what.
“You could wear grown-up gowns.”
“And dance.”
“And meet officers and handsome gentlemen.”
That resolved the matter. Lydia straightened decisively. “Very well. I shall assist.”
Thomas seemed relieved enough to embrace her.
Instead, he handed her one of Wilson’s gloves.
“We need someone who can forge handwriting.”
Lydia drew herself up in affront. “I do not forge handwriting.”
The twins waited.
“…often,” she amended.
Within minutes the three of them sat cross-legged upon the nursery floor plotting social interference with astonishing seriousness.
Elizabeth expected a crowded afternoon. It was Mother’s day to be home for callers, and Elizabeth dressed accordingly with the anticipation of broader company. Which made the arrival of only Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy deeply surprising.
Mrs. Bennet blinked once when the gentlemen were announced, though she recovered instantly.
“Mr. Bingley. Mr. Darcy. What a pleasant surprise.”
Bingley smiled cheerfully. “We feared perhaps we arrived early.”
“Not at all,” Mrs. Bennet assured him.
Elizabeth noticed Darcy’s glance sweep the room briefly, as though similarly puzzled by the absence of additional occupants.
Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
Mr. Wilson, meanwhile, had not appeared. Only Jane joined Elizabeth and Mrs. Bennet.
Several minutes passed. Conversation was amiable and polite. At last, Mr. Wilson entered the room visibly flushed and somewhat disordered.
“My apologies,” he announced. “A servant misplaced my boots.”
Mr. Bennet coughed abruptly into his hand.
Elizabeth glanced toward the doorway instinctively. For the briefest instant she thought she saw Toby vanish behind the hall corner. Suspicion stirred sharply.
Tea and conversation followed before Mrs. Bennet proposed a walk while the weather held fair. Mr. Wilson was required to stay behind, given the absence of his footwear. Mr. Bingley had attached himself happily to Jane, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy drifting naturally several paces behind.
The ease of it disconcerted her slightly. Darcy walked beside her without pressing conversation too quickly, allowing silence to settle comfortably between them before speaking.
“Your brothers,” he said at last, “possess remarkable energy.”