Page 15 of An Accidental Meeting
“They like law,” Elizabeth supplied, thinking of how this illuminated a small part of Mr. Darcy's character.
“Precisely, my dear. Therefore, the chaos of gossip, the mean-spiritedness of crowing over someone else’s tragedies, is terribly irksome to them. Even more because to do the things they enjoy while in town—the theatre, concerts, museums, the s, even the bootmaker’s—they must run the gauntlet of society. It is enough to put anyone in poor humour.”
Elizabeth arched one brow. “I must point out that Hertfordshire, particularly Meryton, is not London.”
“Can you tell me, Miss Bennet,” Aunt Nora inquired, “was there a great deal of focus on my nephew as an eligible young man?”
Elizabeth had to own that this was true. Was her own mother not one of the leading purveyors of gossip at home? But Mamma had been put off her matchmaking plans completely when it came to Mr. Darcy, for after his performance at the assembly, she had declared him unsuitable for any of her daughters and focused all her time and effort on Jane and Mr. Bingley.
Understanding finally dawned, and she chastised herself for being so slow to grasp it. Just another sign of how flawed her judgement had been and still was.
Mr. Darcy had succeeded in his purpose, though he had overshot the mark. Mamma had not just been put off. She had been purposefully rude to him.
Elizabeth felt a little flash of anger when she thought of Jane’s situation and Mr. Darcy’s participation in that debacle. Perhaps it was good that they had been invited tonight, for Elizabeth was uncertain she was equal to meeting with the Bingley sisters again. Mr. Bingley, though—if she could only speak with him . . .
“Mr. Gardiner is exceptionally fond of fishing,” Aunt Gardiner was saying. “I am so pleased that he shall have the opportunity to participate while we are here. He was concerned he might be at loose ends when Elizabeth and I visit my friends.”
Fishing. Oh dear. If Uncle Gardiner was to return to Pemberley, then it was likely that they would receive an invitation for—
“Tea,” Aunt Nora was saying. “You must come to tea, though I shall encourage Georgiana to issue the invitation. I do not wish to make the same mistakes with her that we all did with Fitzwilliam. He had to learn on his own how to navigate society, but then there are also more allowances made for the men, do not you agree, Mrs. Gardiner?”
“I most certainly do.”
Aunt Nora flashed a mischievous smile. “Aunt Nora. I do, Aunt Nora.”
Aunt Gardiner’s shoulders stiffened, and Elizabeth realised that her aunt had not called Mr. Darcy’s great-aunt by name at all. Apparently, Aunt Nora had noticed.
“You may call me Nora, if that is easier.”
Aunt Gardiner took a deep breath. “I thank you for the honour, Nora. Perhaps it would be best if were you to call me by my Christian name as well. It is Margaret.”
“A good name. And what was your father’s name?”
Elizabeth waited. It was always a pleasure to hear this conversation. Her aunt’s family roots went back to before the Norman invasion.
“Alfredson.”
Aunt Nora’s eyes widened. “My goodness. That is an old name in these parts, though more so in the northeast.”
Aunt Gardiner nodded proudly. “Of course, my branch of the family is rather distant from those who battled the Danes.”
“It matters not. You are still of the tree, my dear. Goodness. I asked only because I thought I might have been acquainted with your parents, but I should have recalled meeting any Alfredsons.”
Aunt Gardiner smiled. “They lived in Lambton, Nora, so it was unlikely in any case if you reside nearer to Kympton.”
“But I believe I did meet your father,” came Mr. Darcy’s voice from the doorway as the men entered. “He ran the bookshop in Kympton, did he not?”
“Indeed he did. He owned several, in fact.”
“Your father was a brilliant man, Mrs. Gardiner,” Mr. Darcy said admiringly. “I remember him saying that he never sold a book he had not read, at least in translation.”
“And so it was,” Elizabeth’s aunt agreed. “I believe he chose to sell books because he could create his own library and then share it with others.”
“Thus making room for more books,” Mr. Darcy replied with a chuckle.
“Precisely. His predilection for reading drove my mother to distraction at times, but she loved him too much in the endto insist that he stop. My childhood home was modest, but we possessed all the wealth of the written word.”
“Which is why he and Papa became such good friends,” Elizabeth said gaily.
