Suspense and Sensibility Or, First Impressions Revisited: A Mr. & Mrs. Darcy Mystery by Carrie Bebris
Authors: Carrie Bebris
Ads: Link
you had an opportunity 10 see much of it?"
"Mr. Dashwood and his housekeeper showed us the house this afternoon," Elizabeth said. "It is lovely."
"Indeed, it is. I have many happy memories of this place." Elinor glanced about the drawing room, her expression growing wistful.
"I understand you grew up at Norland?"
"Yes, from eight to nineteen. My mother, sisters, and I moved to Barton after my father died. This is the first time I’ve returned."
The admission startled Elizabeth. "You never visited your brother here?" she blurted out before considering a less bald way to couch the query.
Elinor met her gaze, and each woman quickly assessed the other. Though Elinor was a good fifteen years older than she, Elizabeth read in her a common understanding and intelligence that instantly identified her as a kindred spirit. Elinor seemed to sense the same.
"We occasionally saw my brother and his wife in London." What she left unsaid, but that Elizabeth heard perfectly, was that the brief London visits had constituted enough family togetherness for all parties.
"Does Norland remain as you remember it?" 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
"Mr. Dashwood and his housekeeper showed us the house this afternoon," Elizabeth said. "It is lovely."
"Indeed, it is. I have many happy memories of this place." Elinor glanced about the drawing room, her expression growing wistful.
"I understand you grew up at Norland?"
"Yes, from eight to nineteen. My mother, sisters, and I moved to Barton after my father died. This is the first time I’ve returned."
The admission startled Elizabeth. "You never visited your brother here?" she blurted out before considering a less bald way to couch the query.
Elinor met her gaze, and each woman quickly assessed the other. Though Elinor was a good fifteen years older than she, Elizabeth read in her a common understanding and intelligence that instantly identified her as a kindred spirit. Elinor seemed to sense the same.
"We occasionally saw my brother and his wife in London." What she left unsaid, but that Elizabeth heard perfectly, was that the brief London visits had constituted enough family togetherness for all parties.
"Does Norland remain as you remember it?" 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
Similar Books
