Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Elizabeth and Kitty returned to the gallery the next day in diametrically opposed states of mind. Kitty was observably bubbling over with anticipation; Elizabeth was on tenterhooks. Several times she had almost resolved to abandon the scheme—it would be better if neither of them went to the gallery and Lady Tuppence and her cousin were allowed to think she had fallen under a carriage on her way there or some such calamity. It was too late, however. Kitty would not hear of crying off now and had gone to great lengths at breakfast to avert all suspicion from Mrs Gardiner as to their intended activity for the day.

"I had no idea it would be this busy," Kitty said once they were inside. "I imagined a few stuffy old men muttering over a couple of easels. If you had told me it was like this, I'd have come with you yesterday. Look how grand everybody is!"

Elizabeth had not known what to expect herself until she stepped through the doors the day before. The entire exhibition was like nothing she had ever seen. There was scarcely an inch of wall showing between all the frames that hung from floor to ceiling in every room. Tables and easels displaying yet more paintings were arranged in clusters wherever there was a patch of floor large enough. She suspected, however, that the exhibits that were of greatest interest were the people themselves.

Ladies and gentlemen glided about with exaggerated state, chins held high, chests thrust forward, and wealth announced by every stitch of their fashionable clothes. The British Institution on Pall Mall was apparently the place to be and be seen this Season. Elizabeth hoped that meant nobody would notice her, for she had deliberately worn her plainest walking dress and intended to loiter about the least popular displays until her sister was done.

"How shall I know him?" Kitty enquired as they made their way up the stairs.

"I suppose he will introduce himself."

"Is that not terribly improper?"

"Yes, but I gather it was Lady Tuppence's intention to make it seem as though he and I were already acquainted. She hoped his consequence would trump my disgrace—such as she viewed it."

"Should I act as though I know him then?"

A frisson of alarm made Elizabeth regret again embroiling her impressionable younger sister in such a foolhardy arrangement. "Do not be over familiar. You would not like to give him any notions. And I shall remain within sight at all times. If you feel uneasy at any point, you must simply come to me, do you understand?"

"If you say so, Lizzy. Look at that lady's spencer! Ooh, I would die for one like it!"

Elizabeth sighed and directed her sister through first one, then another large chamber, towards the designated meeting point. "There is the couch, at the far end. I believe we are a little early, though. Shall we walk about a bit while we wait—look at some of the exhibits?"

Kitty wrinkled her nose. "I would rather poke my eyes out. I shall wait sitting down, thank you." So saying, she darted between the people in front of them and plonked herself down on the couch so inelegantly that she bounced once or twice before coming to rest.

Elizabeth moved to the side of the room, positioning herself between two larger groups and trying her best to be inconspicuous. Her first two glances at the couch showed her sister still waiting patiently for Lord Rutherford. Her view was momentarily obstructed when a large group sauntered by, but her next glance revealed Kitty still alone and growing fidgety, chewing her lip and drumming her fingers on her knees.

An outburst of unladylike sniggering made Elizabeth and several other people turn around to look at the perpetrators—two women, both certainly old enough to know better. One of them caught Elizabeth's eye, stopped laughing, and turned quickly away. Trying to quell a gnawing suspicion, Elizabeth turned back to the wall to feign interest in the array of corpulent, scantily clad, and generally flaccid bodies displayed there.

She could not long resist the temptation to glance over her shoulder again and was taken aback when she was met with the direct gaze of the man and woman behind her. They averted their eyes immediately, but Elizabeth still frowned over it. Surely Lady Tuppence had not been correct— surely nobody here remembered her or her imagined cut? She sighed irritably. She ought to have known a place which attracted so much that was fashionable would also attract a good deal that was vacuous.

Moving to stand in front of an easel with a still life propped upon it, she watched surreptitiously to see whether the crowd's attention would follow her there, but it was impossible to tell without looking at people directly. She raised her eyes but entirely forgot to take note of who was looking at her when her gaze fell on the couch. It was empty, and her sister was nowhere to be seen.

She turned her head this way and that, searching the room for her own pink pelisse that Kitty had been so desperate to wear, but could see no sign of either. Her efforts to force her way through the crowds drew grumbles, and she felt certain this must be the best way possible of guaranteeing an increase in unwanted notice. Gritting her teeth, she held her head high and walked as calmly as she could to the next room. There, with as much urgency as she could manage without drawing further attention to herself, she began weaving in and out of the crush in search of her sister.

Real alarm did not assert itself until Elizabeth had searched every corner of every room of the gallery to no avail. A rare moment of irrationality beset her as she dreamt up all manner of unthinkable misfortunes that might have befallen Kitty. She berated herself for ever having been fool enough to suggest a meeting with a stranger. After a deep breath to collect herself, she reasoned that a second search of the exhibition rooms ought probably to be conducted before she gave way to complete panic, and she set out back the way she had come.

The nearer she drew to the first room, the greater her dread became that she would walk back in to find everybody staring at her. She wished Lady Tuppence had not put the notion in her head. The scorn of a few strangers would not usually give her any concern whatsoever, yet here she was, panicking at every passing glance that might be meant for her. By the time she caught a brief glimpse of two people on the couch, one dressed in pink, her relief was almost entirely offset by exasperation.

She hastened through the ever-shifting sea of visitors to fetch Kitty and tell her she wished to leave that instant. Only, just as she came within ten feet of the couch, she heard her sister laugh, somewhere off to her left. She craned her neck to look, and there was Kitty, on the arm of a dark-haired man in a scarlet coat. Not just any scarlet coat, either—regimentals.

She did not wonder that her sister was happy, in that case, but she frowned over it, nevertheless. She could not recall that Lady Tuppence had mentioned the viscount being an officer. Indeed, it would be most unusual if he were, although, she supposed, not unheard of. Regardless, she supposed she ought not to whisk Kitty away too quickly, for her sister did so admire a soldier. She turned back to the couch, hoping there might be space next to whomever she had seen sitting there, that she might wait in comfort. She almost squealed when the people milling in front of her moved out of the way and revealed the lady in pink to be Mr Darcy's sister.