Chapter 27

“Icannot help but notice your preoccupation this evening,” Sarah said. She, Georgiana, and Elizabeth climbed the stairs together, being the last three to leave the drawing room where all had congregated after dinner for cards.

“I certainly was not at my best in the games,” Elizabeth apologised.

“And not the worst, either,” Sarah said with a laugh.

Elizabeth joined her, and after a moment, Georgiana did as well. As anyone paired with her soon discovered, Lady Catherine was far too interested in everyone else’s conversations to pay attention to her own cards.

Sarah seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing at Georgiana before addressing Elizabeth. “We heard you spent some time with Mr Darcy, and realise we have put you in an awkward position. If you are worried about…about reporting anything to your uncle—please do not think another thing about it.”

“Yes!” Georgiana added. “I did not think it out—how difficult it would be for you, Elizabeth.”

“I did not either,” Sarah admitted. “I was so taken with the coincidence of actually knowing someone connected to the, er, rumour situation, to the relief of how much I trusted you, I never gave a thought to how you would feel. I mean, if you wish to still write to your uncle for Mr Pennywithers, of course, you must. Your conscience must always be your guide. But if you were by any means feeling that your only value to us is—your, um, connexion to?—”

“Which it is,” Elizabeth said, a little ruefully. “It is the only reason in the world you would have me here, enjoying this wonderful home and its hospitality. Believe me, I understand it well.”

“No!” Both ladies protested at once.

Elizabeth only looked at them.

“Well, perhaps yes, in the beginning,” Sarah added, more quietly. “But as I said, we did not think it through.”

“All I could think of was how to-to counteract what the papers are saying,” Georgiana added in a whisper, ever conscious of the possibility of being overheard. “But I—we never would put a friend in such an awkward position as to report on her host, and, I hope you know, you are most certainly a friend now.”

The young ladies reached Elizabeth’s chamber door and paused before it. Elizabeth made a sudden decision.

“I wonder if I might speak with you both—about another matter as well as this one. But not in our sitting room, for although Jane retired nearly an hour ago, she is a light sleeper and I would not wish to wake her.”

“We may use mine,” Sarah said. “I spent time in the kitchens today with Mr Darcy’s chef. He is a temperamental fellow, but could not resist learning the secret to my Shrewsbury cakes, which are ever so much lighter than his. I have some in my chamber.”

“Do you bake?” Elizabeth asked, astonished.

“She does!” Georgiana chimed in gleefully. “She began it all by sending her compliments to the kitchen after our first meal and then, once she had them all softened, she made me take her to visit in person—which typically I would avoid, for Chef’s temper is truly mercurial. What does she do but begin a conversation with him, telling him she had traded secrets with…” Her brow furrowed. “What was his name?”

“Antoine Carême. He is very well-known amongst the French culinary elite. And I did not precisely say we had exchanged secrets.”

“Chef melted into a puddle before my eyes. I have never seen anything like it.”

“My aunt, Lady Hampton, has a French chef. He is a font of information,” Sarah said complacently.

Georgiana shook her head in obvious admiration. “Sarah is revered in his kitchen now and can do whatever she pleases there. And it pleases her to create the most delicious concoctions anyone has ever tasted.”

“Lead the way to your cakes, then,” Elizabeth agreed, following the two young ladies to Sarah’s rooms. Sarah spoke a few words to her maid, who departed shortly thereafter.

“We will be private here, but Evans will see that we have something to drink with the cakes. I noticed you prefer lemonade, Elizabeth, if that is agreeable?”

Elizabeth could not help it, and burst out laughing. Then, of course, she had to explain the plotting of Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh, and how she happened to overhear it.

“I will go to my brother at once!” Georgiana declared. “He will expel them both, and by morning we shall be rid of them!”

“Hear, hear,” Sarah agreed. “First you were attacked physically, and now they try this maliciousness! Unacceptable!”

“You must, of course, do what you think best,” Elizabeth said carefully.

Georgiana frowned. “What else is there to do?”

Elizabeth sighed. “I am unsure. I once interfered in Jane’s life, with disastrous results. I vowed to never do so again. I feel like I am on the verge of breaking my vow.”

Evans entered with lemonade, passed around the cakes, and discreetly withdrew.

“I hope you know we would never say a word to anyone,” Georgiana promised. “But what does Jane have to do with any of it?”

“I will try to explain. I have qualms about reporting Miss Bingley and Miss de Bourgh. It might be as you say—Mr Darcy might expel them. If Miss Bingley must go, I daresay Mr Bingley must take her.”

“We have seen his interest in Jane, but surely it is not your fault if that happens.”

“Except that history repeats itself. Due to my intervention in the past, Jane lost her confidence, gaining instead the feeling that she has nothing to offer except her beauty. It is not true, of course, but has led to an even deeper reserve, which is difficult to penetrate.

“And you are included in this ‘reserve’?” Sarah asked.

“Me, most of all,” Elizabeth said sadly. “Jane is the most loyal creature in the world. She loves me, never doubt it—she has proved her sisterly affection in ways I cannot even tell you. But I am no longer privy to her thoughts, her most intimate feelings. She no longer trusts me with them.”

“When one loses confidence, it affects everything,” Georgiana said quietly. “One moment, the world seems an amiable place; the next, all security seems illusory.”

Bringing up her troubles with Jane had not been Elizabeth’s intention; she had, merely, wanted to inform them of Miss Bingley’s conniving with Miss de Bourgh, and explain why she was hesitant to retaliate. Chagrined, she opened her mouth to bring the conversation back to the point, but Sarah spoke first.

“When was the last time you spoke of it with her?”

“Should not the past remain in the past?” Elizabeth asked.

Georgiana took a deep breath. “At one of the worst moments of my life, my brother sat with me, sharing experiences of his own, refraining from telling me how stupid I had been. At the expense of his own pride, he thought only of me. It helped ever so much. To talk about it all, I mean.”

Elizabeth considered her admission, and her own experience.

No. In my mortification, followed by what happened next, and then in my deep grief and guilt, I never broached the conversation we ought to have had long ago. But what good would it do now, except to dredge up feelings that Jane seems to be overcoming—if her apparent affection for Mr Bingley is any indication?

“Possibly you are right, Georgiana,” she said. “Nevertheless, it is the present which concerns me now.”

“Surely if you told Jane what those two are plotting, she would encourage you to?—”

“She would go to our host herself if I will not, even possibly to Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth said quickly. “I do not know what would happen, but if it led to his departure, it would affect her happiness. At best it would add a huge embarrassment to their newly formed friendship.”

Georgiana drew herself up. “If you will not tell, I must. As your hostess, I cannot permit such a breach! Elizabeth, I am obligated to tell my brother that your comfort and reputation are not assured in his home!”

“No! Please!” Elizabeth cried, inwardly cursing herself for failing to remember that Georgiana, and not Lady Matlock, was, strictly speaking, in charge of these matters.

“Ladies,” Sarah interrupted calmly, thoughtfully. “Let us talk this out. Georgiana, you need to assure the wellbeing of your guests. If you tell your brother, he might banish Miss Bingley forever—but can you be certain of it? Is there any chance that she could pretend repentance and wheedle her way back into his good graces? The way Elizabeth tells it, this scheme is actually your cousin’s idea.”

“Only after Miss Bingley suggested a design even more monstruous!” Georgiana protested.

“Do not you think someone as manipulative as Miss Bingley will be able to shift blame? She could impute the entire matter to Miss de Bourgh. And how, I wonder, will you prevent your aunt from interfering in any attempt to obtain redress from her daughter? Or acting maliciously towards all of the Bingleys, Elizabeth, or even Elizabeth’s family?”

Georgiana pursed her lips, and even Elizabeth felt some unease. The notion of a vengeful Lady Catherine was an alarming prospect. Any accusation was sure to put her back up and her claws out—but especially one coming from a social inferior.

“It is just a silly offer of lemonade. I will politely refuse to drink it, and that will be the end.” They all three fell silent. Taking a bite of the cake, Elizabeth’s brows rose. “This is truly delicious! I have had Shrewsbury cakes many a time, and never did they taste like this.”

“I agree,” Georgiana said, licking a bit of sugar off her lips.

“The secret is in the proportion of butter to flour,” Sarah replied, looking pleased.

Elizabeth nodded, a new idea occurring to her. “Are your talents restricted to baked goods? Or can you concoct other recipes?”

“Oh, many other things. Why? Have you an idea to out-plot the plotters?” Sarah asked, plainly sensing the change in tone.

Elizabeth smiled.