Mr and Mrs Darcy 02 Suspense & Sensibility by Carrie Bebris

Elizabeth asked.
    Elinor
studied a large portrait of Fanny hanging above the mantel. "In many ways,
yes," she said. "But in others, it almost feels as if I never lived
here at all."
    Elizabeth
suspected that was Fanny's entire object.
    Fanny
Dashwood's other brother was also present with his family. Robert, with his
bold striped waistcoat and elaborate silver snuffbox, she soon dismissed as an
aging fop. Elizabeth had seen Lucy and Regina Ferrars at the Middle tons'
soiree, but had not gotten close enough to form an impression beyond noting a
strong resemblance between mother and daughter. Both enjoyed passable looks,
Lucy's a somewhat faded version of Regina's full bloom. They shared narrow eyes
and dark, arched brows. Lucy reminded one of a cat, her bearing exhibiting a
decidedly predatory aspect. Regina, in contrast, carried herself with bovine
grace. She was considerably plumper than her mother, with a figure that even
her high-waisted gown could not flatter. Lucy's thin frame looked almost
skeletal in contrast, as if since Regina's birth it had been daughter, not mother,
eating for them both.
    An evening
of Lucy and Regina's company proved that in postponing the opportunity to
become acquainted with them, Elizabeth had not deferred any pleasure. Lucy was
agreeable enough, far more so than her sister-in-law Fanny, and Elizabeth had
initially struggled to pinpoint exactly what she disliked about the woman. But
as the night wore on, she realized that it was
precisely Lucy's ingratiating manner - echoed to mind-numbing effect by Regina
- that made her almost nostalgic for the company of Darcy's domineering aunt,
Lady Catherine. Lucy complimented Elizabeths dress, Kitty's hair, the cut of
Darcy's coat. The flowers in the small alcove were lovely - were they from
Norland's greenhouse? Indeed, everything about Norland was splendid, and their
host was up to the nines.
    "Harry, I declare this is the best rabbit I've ever tasted."
    Elizabeth wondered that Lucy had much basis for comment on the rabbit or
any other dish, as her steady stream of flattery prevented her from actually
bringing much of the food to her mouth. Regina, in contrast, had managed to
clear her plate between accolades.
    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