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Elizabeth glanced toward the main doors of the room. A sedan chair had just arrived; Sir Walter was directing its bearers to deposit its occupant in an out-of-the-way corner.
“Perhaps someone did.”
Twenty
“I have known a good deal of the profession; and besides their liberality, they are so neat and careful in all their ways!”
Much to her father’s obvious displeasure, Mrs. Wentworth abandoned her receiving line duties, transferring Alfred to her younger sister and following the sedan chair to the unpopulated corner to which Sir Walter had sent it. As Mrs. Wentworth assisted its emerging passenger, Elizabeth turned to Darcy.
“I am going to retrieve more lemonade.”
“We have not yet finished these,” Darcy said, “and the quality hardly inspires a yearning for more.”
“It is not for us. It is for Mrs. Smith.”
“I see.” He, too, looked toward the corner. The sedan chair and its bearers had departed; Mrs. Wentworth was now helping Mrs. Smith toward a seat beside a large, round table. “Would you like me to come with you?”
Elizabeth considered a moment. Women talk very differently amongst themselves than when gentlemen are present, and she had already established a rapport with the widow. It might be easier to guide the conversation toward the accident without Darcy’s company.
“I will introduce you, then perhaps you could go seek the Harvilles’ conversation.”
She fetched two glasses of lemonade and led Darcy to the ladies. Mrs. Smith greeted Elizabeth’s arrival with the delight of encountering an old friend. “Mrs. Darcy! What a pleasure to see you here! I told A
“It is a pleasure to see you again, too.” Elizabeth introduced Darcy, whose acquaintance Mrs. Smith entered with equal happiness.
Elizabeth set the lemonade on the table and helped Mrs. Wentworth settle Mrs. Smith into her seat. Darcy, after determining his assistance was not needed, and exchanging a few pleasantries with Mrs. Smith on the subject of the fineness of the day and the beauty of Lyme, excused himself on the pretext of checking on his sister.
Elizabeth chose a chair beside Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Wentworth took another, but perched on its edge in the ma
“Did you have a comfortable ride here?” Mrs. Wentworth asked Mrs. Smith.
“I did—quite smooth. Sometimes the chair men do not take as much care, and one gets jostled or slides forward going down the steep hills.”
“You have shown such steady improvement in the two months you have been with us in Lyme, that eventually I hope to see you walk anywhere you wish entirely under your own power, with no need of a chair to transport you.”
A smile spread across Mrs. Smith’s face. “I look forward to that day, as well.”
The receiving line once more drew Mrs. Wentworth’s attention. Alfred had recommenced crying, and though Mary appeared to have no patience for him, she rejected an apparent offer of assistance from Captain Wentworth. Mrs. Wentworth’s gaze shuttled between the baby and Mrs. Smith, and Elizabeth could read in her expression how divided was her sense of obligation. Even were Alfred in more sympathetic arms, Mrs. Wentworth nonetheless ought to return to her receiving line duties, and even were Mrs. Smith in perfect health, A
“Mrs. Smith, would you care for some lemonade?” Elizabeth handed one glass to the widow and offered the other to Mrs. Wentworth.
“Oh,” Mrs. Smith said, “how very thoughtful! It is quite warm in here.”
Mrs. Wentworth looked at the glass as if she very much wanted to accept it, then glanced back at the receiving line. Alfred’s cries increased.
“A
“Are you certain?”
“I have a comfortable chair and lemonade. Go attend your new godson.”
“She also has my company,” Elizabeth said. “I would enjoy the opportunity for us to become better acquainted.”
Elizabeth’s assurance decided Mrs. Wentworth. She returned to her place in the receiving line, where her sister Mary lost no time in delivering the fussing Alfred back to her. Captain Wentworth helped her adjust the child’s long christening robe, which had become twisted round his legs during the transfer. Before long, Mrs. Wentworth had soothed the baby back into silence.
Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Smith. “After we parted the other day, I realized that I might have seen you before—taking the air, as you said—on the Cobb.”
“It is one of my favorite spots,” Mrs. Smith replied. “Soon after arriving in Lyme, I expressed a desire to go out upon it—an idle desire, not one I imagined would be realized anytime soon. Due to my difficulties walking, I expected to enjoy the seawall for some while only as a sight from shore. Captain Wentworth, however, immediately ordered a chair to take me out on the lower wall. Once there, he borrowed a barrel from one of the quay warehouses so that I could leave the confining cabinet of the chair and sit in the open air. I ca
“Indeed, then, I believe it was you I saw seated on the bench last week, the morning of the storm that caused the ship explosion.”
“What a dreadful morning that was, for so many people! The ship and its crew lost, not to mention poor Mrs. Clay’s accident.”
Elizabeth was pleased that Mrs. Smith had introduced the very subject she most wanted to discuss. “Did you witness her fall?” Perhaps the widow would be able to put her doubts to rest—or provide information to confirm them.
“We did not stay as long as usual that day,” Mrs. Smith replied. “We left when the atmosphere turned unpleasant. I understand from A
“No, we came upon her afterward. We did not even know who she was until Mr. Elliot identified her later.”
“Ah, yes—Mr. Elliot.” Mrs. Smith cast a disdainful gaze across the room, to where Mr. Elliot engaged in conversation with Lieutenant St. Clair. “I should be amazed that he has the effrontery to show himself here today, having carried on such a public affair with Mrs. Clay. But I have known him so long that his behavior has lost the power to astonish me. So did hers.”
“You knew them both?” Although Elizabeth was disappointed by Mrs. Smith’s lack of information about the accident itself, the mention of Mr. Elliot gave Elizabeth hope that the widow might prove a source of intelligence after all.
“These twelve years. Mr. Elliot was a particular friend of my husband when we married, and he introduced us to Mr. and Mrs. Clay. When Mr. Elliot wed not long after, we three couples became intimate companions, as comfortable in each other’s houses as our own. Together we enjoyed all London had to offer the young, carefree, and affluent.” She sighed. “I have been none of those things since becoming widowed, and as a result have had little recent intercourse with Mr. Elliot and Mrs. Clay.”