Elizabeth watched Fitzwilliam flounder in the grasp of her mother. Like a drowning man he looked as if he was coming up for air and then like Charybdis, she pulled him back down. Elizabeth felt a tiny twinge of guilt for the predicament in which he found himself – for, when asked by her mother what puddings he preferred, she had said she did not know. And truthfully, she did not - she had attended many meals with him, and while she could describe the luscious way his lips moved when he chewed (although certainly not to her mother!), she could not say what puddings he smacked those lips over (not that he would stoop to smack). So, her mother was putting him to the quiz. Did he prefer steamed puddings, pies, crumbles, ices, crèmes, cakes, snows, etc.? And she would not let him answer in generalities. Be specific, sir! What types - ginger, spotted dick, bread and butter, treacle, fruit? If fruit, which ones – apples, pears, lemons, etc. And what sauces – custard cream, butterscotch, caramel, etc. Heaven help him if he named some Derbyshire pudding he favoured which her mother had never heard of - she would be at him all night trying to winkle the receipt out of him (as if he would know it).
Oh well, Elizabeth shrugged to herself, Fitzwilliam was long out of leading strings and he could take care of himself. At some point he would have to learn to deal with the machinations of his soon to be mother-in-law's mind and it was best he do it over something as innocuous as pudding.
Fitzwilliam being occupied, and seeing that Miss Darcy was engaged with Mary in admiring the new pianoforte (how had that happened?), Elizabeth sought out Jane so she could hear her short story about Mr. Bingley.
-}{-
"Tell me about Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth.
Jane shrugged (in doing so she was glad Mrs. Longden was not about, that lady had strict views about shrugging, slouching and other slovenly behaviours). "There is not much to say. I have not seen Mr. Bingley since I sent him away from Gracechurch Street. Somehow, he stopped Lydia from eloping with Mr. Wickham, arranged for the formidable Mrs. Longden to be her companion, and transported them from Brighton to Longbourn. He did not accompany Lydia here; instead, he went directly to Netherfield. He receives no visitors there, even Papa was turned away. We sent him an invitation to dinner which he politely declined due to 'circumstances.' Rumour has it that he is working as a farm labourer for one of his tenants."
"But how exactly did he rescue Lydia?"
"Only he, Lydia, and Mrs. Longden know. He is not here; Lydia is remarkably closed mouth about it; and, I wish you luck trying to get Mrs. Longden to say."
"I can get it out of Lydia."
Jane put her hand on Elizabeth's arm. "Please do not. Papa does not want anything done to upset the apple cart."
"He thinks that something is fishy."
"Yes, but he also said it is working out for the best. He called it a fait accompli which he said was Latin for 'let sleeping dogs lie'. And Lizzy, if it came out that Lydia actually did elope, then she would be ruined, which means we would all be ruined, and you would not be able to marry your Mr. Darcy."
Elizabeth really wanted to know what happened with Lydia in Brighton. But she also really, really wanted to marry Mr. Darcy so she said "I'll let it go." At present – in a decade, or two, she would get the story out of Lydia. Meanwhile, "What about you and Mr. Bingley?"
Jane wanted to shrug, but she fought off the impulse. "I would like to speak to him, to apologize for what I said to him. It will then be publicly seen that, on both sides, we meet only as common and indifferent acquaintance."
"Yes, very indifferent indeed," said Elizabeth, laughingly. I will have Fitzwilliam speak to Mr. Bingley; he will get him to speak to you.
-}{-
"I was going to go to speak to Bingley anyway. I should not be staying under the same roof as you now that we are officially betrothed." Mr. Darcy smiled at Elizabeth, his glorious smile, the one with the dimples. "Lead me not into temptation and all that."
Elizabeth looked around. There were too many eyes on them for her to be doing any tempting as much as that smile was an invitation to do so. "When you do, could you please get him to come and speak to Jane."
Mr. Darcy put his hands up. "The last time I did that it did not end well."
"All Jane wants to do is apologize for berating him the last time." Elizabeth laughed and shook her head. "Then she says they can thereafter meet as indifferent acquaintances."
