Page 47 of Cousin Conundrum

Chapter Thirteen

Two days later, Elizabeth sat in the parlor with her mother and sisters, mending, all efforts not to think of Mr. Darcy and his kiss thwarted. Kitty had conveyed the story of Mr. Darcy’s unfeeling words at the assembly, and Mrs. Bennet now alternated between praising Mr. Bingley and wishing he would call, and decrying Mr. Darcy and declaring that he best stay away.

Every mention of his name, even in Mrs. Bennet’s querulous voice, evoked his image in Elizabeth’s mind. Drew her thoughts to their kiss. Filled her senses with her dreams of him.

She was ready to flee the parlor when the carriage in which she’d first glimpsed Mr. Darcy came up the drive. Her hands stilled along with her breath. Surely, he would not be so bold as to call on them?

The carriage drew to a halt and Mr. Bingley stepped out, then reached back to hand down his sister. A footman closed the door and the two started for the front of the house, unaccompanied by anyone else. Elizabeth exhaled. Something oddly like disappointment, but which she chose to label as relief, washed through her. She joined her sisters in stowing her work, and in standing when the two were shown in a short time later.

“Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley,” Mrs. Bennet greeted exuberantly. “I began to think you had forgotten all about us.”

“Yes, well, we, ah, meant to call sooner.” Mr. Bingley bowed.

“I am afraid we spend so much time in the delightful company of the Archers that this is the first opportunity we have had to make our way out to Longbourn,” Miss Bingley added, her tone sweet but her eyes glinting.

Elizabeth adopted a bland expression, too aware of the hope in Jane’s eyes to fire a return sally.

“The Archers.” Mrs. Bennet sniffed. “I cannot imagine them as lively and pleasant as my girls.”

A quick glance showed that only Lydia appeared at all lively at the moment, though Jane’s smile was indeed pleasant. Almost enough so as to hide her longing.

“Oh?” Miss Bingley looked about. “Your cousin seems to find them so. He has been with them each afternoon we have called.” Miss Bingley wrinkled her nose, but so quickly returned to hauteur as to make Elizabeth wonder if the grimace was involuntary. “I imagine he is with them now.”

“Well, he ought not be.” Mrs. Bennet huffed. “He should be here with my Kitty. They are very near to an understanding.

“Are you?” Mr. Bingley said cheerfully. “How splendid. Nothing like a wedding to cheer everyone.”

Kitty turned crimson.

“Would you care to sit, Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley?” Jane asked softly, preempting Mrs. Bennet’s next words far more boldly than was her wont. “Perhaps tea is in order?”

That resulted in the inevitable commotion of Mrs. Bennet ensuring Mr. Bingley sat between Jane and Lydia. Somehow, Elizabeth ended up opposite them, between Miss Bingley and Kitty.

Once all were settled and tea called for, Mrs. Bennet leaned forward eagerly. “So tell us, what of the Archers? We have seen little of our cousin’s cousins.”

“Yes, do tell us something delicious.” Lydia bounced in excitement. “Something dreadful.”

Miss Bingley looked down her nose at Lydia.

At that disdain, Elizabeth could contain her tongue no longer, and could well guess where a sore spot lay. “I am certain the Archers are all things delightful. Why, even your friend, Mr. Darcy, seemed to enjoy their company. He danced with them at the assembly, did he not? And looked particularly well standing up with Miss Archer.” A memory Elizabeth normally shied from but which she was willing to endure to repay Miss Bingley for being snide to Lydia.

The corners of Miss Bingley’s mouth turned downward. She leaned forward as well, though Elizabeth doubted she meant to mimic Mrs. Bennet. “Well, one thing I can tell you is that their gowns are certainly fake.”

“Fake?” Kitty frowned. “They appear real. Do you mean they shall melt if rained on, like spun sugar?” Kitty’s eyes flew wide. “Oh dear. That would certainly be a sight for all the gentlemen.”

Miss Bingley’s mouth pressed even thinner. “No. I mean they are forgeries, meant to appear as Madame Dentelle’s work. I would know it anywhere. But they simply cannot be.”

“And I say, why not?” Mr. Bingley sounded annoyed, as if recommencing an ongoing argument. “We have no knowledge of their finances.”

His sister glared at him. “I need no knowledge. I have seen a great deal of their wardrobes since making their acquaintance. Why, the number of gowns they have, all of them Dentelle’s…even Mr. Darcy would balk at such a cost.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Mrs. Bennet said with another disdainful sniff.

“Truly?” Lydia’s eyes were bright. “Oh, that is scandalous. Imitation gowns!”

“More likely, contraband,” Miss Bingley said in a loud whisper.

“Contraband?” Lydia echoed gleefully.