Page 13

RUMOUR HAS IT

I t was snowing lightly when Elizabeth, Jane, and Mrs Gardiner ventured out on Wednesday morning.

It had almost been enough to put them off, but cold weather had prevented them from making any trips—with one exception—since Miss Bingley’s visit, and Elizabeth was adamant that Jane not be allowed to forget her resolve to leave her window seat.

The single time Elizabeth had left the house had been an absolute disaster. She really ought not to have gone to Henrietta Street, for the letters she had received that morning had left her in no humour for a call. One had been from Lydia, reporting an unwelcome change at home.

Mr Wickham admires Miss King now and never comes to Longbourn or my aunt Philips’s any more.

Poor Lizzy! If it makes you feel any better, she is a horrid, freckled little thing.

If they should marry, they will be rich, to be sure, for she has recently inherited ten thousand pounds, but all their children will be grossly ill-favoured.

Elizabeth had yet to settle on how she felt about Mr Wickham’s defection, but she was exasperated by the belief that she would have been his only choice had she not been banished to London.

Which had made the second letter, from her father, petitioning her to prolong her stay in town, even more vexing.

Your mother has now written to me, but whilst my worst fears have been assuaged, she seems in no hurry to come home.

Our neighbours have begun asking questions, and if she does not soon resume her superintendence of your younger sisters, I shall be driven clear out of my mind.

I am relying on you, Lizzy, to make her see sense.

She had gone to Henrietta Street fully prepared to do battle but, finding only Mrs Randall at home, had channelled all her anger towards that lady instead, obstinately hounding her through the streets and directly into Mr Darcy’s path.

“Where next, then?” she asked, shaking off the humiliation that accompanied every recollection of that encounter.

“I am not sure anybody could delight us as well as Mrs Arneaux has just done,” Mrs Gardiner said. “But we might drop in at Mrs Appleby’s. She is not my usual dressmaker, but I have shopped there once or twice, and her prices are reasonable.”

Elizabeth and Jane readily agreed, and they set out directly.

The shop was well stocked and clearly popular, with women clustered about the various stands and dressing areas.

One wall was almost entirely covered in shelves displaying bolts of cloth in myriad different colours. Elizabeth was captivated.

“Look at this one, Jane. It matches your eyes perfectly.” As she turned to hold up a corner of fabric for her sister to inspect, Elizabeth thought she caught two women from a group near her spin suddenly away, as though they had been watching.

She supposed she must have been mistaken when they did not look again.

“It is pretty,” Jane agreed, coming closer. “But perhaps too like my gown with the three-quarter length sleeves. I rather fancy a very light green, or a green stripe, ready for the spring.”

“You are eager to be thinking of spring on a day like this.”

Jane only smiled and drifted away along the wall in search of something more to her taste. Elizabeth sauntered across the shop to a counter where several samples of lace had been laid out for customers to peruse.

“I think it is her,” came a hushed pronouncement from behind.

Elizabeth turned to look. It was the same group she had caught watching her before. They were peering her way, and all looking excessively pleased with themselves. They edged forwards en masse .

“Excuse me,” said the nearest, “but would you by any chance be acquainted with Mr Darcy of Pemberley?”

This did not seem an auspicious question to Elizabeth. She considered not answering, for they had not been introduced, but she could not bring herself to be so uncivil. “A little,” she replied warily.

The ladies smiled animatedly at each other. Over the first woman’s shoulder, one of the others asked, “How little is ‘a little’?”

“Eloise!” her friend admonished, though her grin belied any real rebuke. “Pray, excuse my friend. She gets terribly impassioned about this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Well, you know…society pairings and the like. We had not heard that Mr Darcy was finally taken, but?—”

Elizabeth let out an incredulous snap of laughter. “You cannot think…I assure you, when I say I know him a little, I mean a very little.”

“Oh? It was not you I saw walking with him in Leicester Square on Monday, then?”

It was a struggle for Elizabeth to keep her countenance.

If only they knew the contempt which had inspired that particular condescension!

The most fastidious man in England had caught her unchaperoned and lost in the middle of London and been so appalled that he felt obliged to escort her back to her carriage.

She could only imagine with what scorn Mr Darcy would hear any suggestion of their names being connected as a result.

For his sake, she might have refuted it, but the woman’s smirk made her sure a demurral would do more damage than the truth.

“I saw him there, yes,” she said instead.

“More than saw him, surely?—”

The proprietor of the shop appeared behind the counter and cleared her throat. “Miss Trevanion, have you seen the new brocade we have in the dressing room?”

Elizabeth’s inquisitor drew back slightly with an expression that made her look more triumphant than chastened. “I told you it was her,” she whispered as she led her friends away. “They were arm-in-arm, I tell you.”

“I do beg your pardon, madam,” Mrs Appleby said to Elizabeth. “Miss Trevanion and her friends are valued customers, but they have a tendency to get carried away with silly ideas.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head in commiseration. “My younger sisters are the same. Think nothing of it. I certainly shall not.” She returned to inspecting the lace on the counter.

Mrs Appleby cleared her throat again. “If you please, ma’am.

This sample is well enough, and I commend your excellent taste, but allow me to show you something finer.

” She reached below the counter and withdrew a neatly wrapped packet, which she unfolded to reveal a more exquisitely detailed piece of lace.

“Much more appropriate for a friend of the Master of Pemberley, I am sure you agree.”

Elizabeth glanced up at her in delight, thinking she was joking and, seeing immediately that she was not, unable to keep from laughing slightly all the same.

“You are most kind, but as I told those other ladies, I can claim no special connexion to Mr Darcy. And whilst these are all very pretty, I do not think any of them are quite right for what I have in mind. Thank you, though.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Mrs Appleby turned to two other ladies at the counter. “How may I help you?”

The younger of the two looked to her companion for an opinion. “I had thought to take some of this one, but I wonder whether Mama would prefer me to have the lace that Mr Darcy’s friends are wearing.”

Seeing the girl’s indecision, Elizabeth leant towards her and said gently, “I do not think Mr Darcy gives three straws what style of lace the ladies of his acquaintance wear. His mind is invariably occupied with loftier matters. You must please yourself in this.”

The girl stared at her with wide-eyed gratitude. “Thank you, madam. I shall.”

Elizabeth gave her a reassuring smile and walked to join her aunt and sister, whom she was vastly relieved to discover were ready to depart.

It felt to her as though everybody in the shop watched them go.

The imagination of a few frivolous women had jumped from seeing her talk to a man, to having her all but married to him, to making her a new arbiter of fashion based on the connexion, all in less time than it took to purchase a length of ribbon!

Unexpectedly, it made her rather sorry for Mr Darcy.

How tedious it must be to have one’s name constantly bandied about for the sake of this piece of lace or that bit of gossip.

How tiresome to be rumoured into an alliance with every woman to whom one showed the slightest attention.

It made her think more generously of his reserve at the Meryton assembly last October—and more gratefully of his having singled her out for a dance at Mr Bingley’s ball.