Carrie Bebris - Suspense & Sensibility

When Harry denied any right to the praise, Lucy offered it instead to the superior environment of Norland Park. "Truly, nothing in London can compare, and even Norfolk don’t have rabbit this plump. Isn’t that right, Robert?"

Her husband, whom Elizabeth could have sworn was admiring his reflection in the bowl of his spoon, admitted uncertainty as to the relative plumpness of the rabbits raised on their estate.

Once the subject of rabbits had been discussed beyond endurance, conversation turned to the china. Regina pronounced the dense floral motif exquisite as she obscured it from view with a second helping of duck. "Where did you find it, Aunt Dashwood? I want the same pattern for my own hope chest."

Fanny roused herself from the sullen silence into which she’d sunk. "It’s a Royal Worcester service. I don’t know if the company still produces it." She cast a pointed glance at Kitty then pulled back her lips to form what might have been a sweet smile on another person. On Fanny, it was intimidating. "Perhaps, my dear niece, this very set will find its way into your possession."

Elizabeth didn’t know how to interpret the comment. Did Harry’s mother mean to give away the set before a new mistress arrived at Norland? Or, relinquishing her aspirations of an alliance with Georgiana’s thirty thousand pounds, did she now harbor a wish that Regina might secure Harry’s hand? Nothing in Harry’s manner indicated that the latter possibility had ever entered his own head.

By the time dessert concluded, Fanny had managed to subtly insult Kitty three more times, Lucy had performed an aria on the smoothness of the syllabub, and Regina had consumed as many maids of honor as had waited upon Henry the Eighth’s six queens together. Miss Ferrars’s conversation between mouthfuls demonstrated a simplicity of both manner and mind.

After dinner, the ladies withdrew to continue the torment.

"I suppose it would be improper for me to remain here with the gentlemen?" Elizabeth whispered to Darcy on her way out.

"You wish to smoke and drink port?"

"I wish to engage in conversation more stimulating than what Lucy and Regina Ferrars are likely to provide."

A flash of something metallic catching the candlelight drew their attention. Robert Ferrars was gazing at himself in the lid of his toothpick case.

"I do not think you will find it here," Darcy told her.

The women settled into the drawing room. Elinor, suffering from a lingering chill following her damp ride, sat down near the fire. Lucy took the seat opposite and immediately commenced an ode to the perfection of the fire screen. It was exquisite. Had Fanny embroidered it? She had such talent. Had she embroidered the one in Lucy’s room, as well? How could one possibly choose which to admire more?

Lucy’s attentions to her other sister-in-law were less inspired and even more transparent. "Elinor, I understand your sister Margaret was safely delivered of a boy this month," she said.

"A girl," Elinor corrected.

"Her first, yes?"

"Her third."

"How redundant," Fanny declared. "One daughter is a gift to her mother." She cast her gaze toward Regina, who, now that the meal was ended, appeared to be chewing her cud. "A second is a comfort — she might care for her mother in old age. But more than that merely taxes a family’s ability to provide for them all, especially if they become spinsters."

"It is fortunate, then, that you weren’t so burdened," said Elinor.

"No, but I also was not blessed," said Fanny. "I look forward, therefore, to gaining a daughter when Harry weds. A genteel, accomplished young lady will make a wonderful addition to our family. Perhaps someone like Miss Everett. Do you know of her, Elinor? She and her brother are among the guests arriving tomorrow."

Elinor confessed a lack of familiarity with either Miss Everett or her superior accomplishments.

Lucy, however, trumpeted her knowledge. "Miss Everett? Surely you don’t mean Miss Maria Everett?"

"Why, yes." Fanny said.

"Gracious, Fanny! Have you not heard? But no — you mustn’t have. I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this, but I believe she is engaged to Mr. Montrose. Or nearly so. Almost officially. Anyway, she could not possibly accept Harry’s addresses."

Or his mother’s.

"Well!" Fanny’s disappointment was evident, but fleeting. "That is no matter. I invited several other accomplished young ladies. Lady Harriet Stenbridge, for instance."

Lucy shook her head sadly.

"What?" asked Fanny. "What do you know of her?"

Lucy leaned forward. "It’s only a rumor, mind you — " She spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "So I oughtn’t repeat it at all. But I understand she was found in a compromising situation with a certain heir to a dukedom who’s managed to hush it up."

"If he hushed it up," Elizabeth said, "how do you know of it?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "People just tell me things, I suppose."

Elizabeth resolved not to be among them.

Kitty attempted to initiate a discussion with Regina about favorite shops in London. They discovered a common partiality for Layton and Shears before Regina became nearly paralyzed with indecision over whether she preferred the ices or cakes at Gunter’s. She ended the crisis by resolving to visit Number 7 Berkeley Square directly she returned to London so as to test each again. She did not invite Kitty to join her in this excursion, nor, Elizabeth mused, could the shop likely produce enough sweets to serve another customer in addition to Regina.

Tea arrived, and soon after it, the gentlemen. Harry headed toward Kitty but was ambushed by Fanny and Lucy en route, and so wound up sitting beside Regina instead. Or rather, he perched on the small bit of sofa that remained beside Regina. Edward Ferrars seemed to be trying to continue a discussion with his brother as they entered, but Robert was examining the room through his quizzing glass as if he had not just been in it a couple of hours ago.

Darcy trailed in last. His gaze immediately sought out Elizabeth and warmed at the sight of her.

"I missed you," he said softly.

She handed him a cup of tea. "Was your gentlemen’s time as bad as all that?"

"Actually, no. Robert Ferrars so occupied himself with the mechanics of opening his new snuffbox one-handed that the rest of us were able to talk intelligently."

"I envy you. Our discourse in here was not intelligent, merely educational."

She sipped tea from her own cup and surveyed the room. Harry had risen from the sofa and was subtly backing toward Kitty under the assault of Lucy’s chatter. Fanny had commandeered Edward’s and Elinor’s attention and presently expressed outrage on some matter. Robert now used his quizzing glass to study the tea service pattern, an inspection Regina aided by clearing a plate of tea cakes three at a time.

"How long will it be," Elizabeth asked, "before everybody decides that we have endured enough of one another’s society for the evening?"

"I suspect that once one person makes good his escape, the rest will soon scatter."

"We all spent a good part of the day traveling. Do you suppose you and I could leave now with propriety?"

He consulted his watch. "Unfortunately, it is early yet."

"But I am ready to retire."

He regarded her with concern. "Are you fatigued from the journey?"

"I believe I am." She coyly broke their gaze and scanned the room once more. "At least… hypothetically."

By the night of Harry’s grand birthday fete, the rain had cleared, and Norland reverberated with the sounds of youthful merriment. Harry, it seemed, had left no acquaintance uninvited, and as the house and grounds filled with school chums and club friends, frivolity ruled. The billiards room never emptied, the air echoed with shots at game birds, and the hunt was pursued with a wildness and intensity that rivaled any fey legend.