in the opposite corner. The fellow stole a surreptitious glance at Loretta’s client, but self-consciously shifted when he realized he was himself an object of observation.
Loretta noticed the young man, too.
“I said
The woman’s shy smile returned.
Darcy, his back to the table of young men, listened to Loretta’s divination with obvious disdain. “I fail to comprehend how anyone can place credence in such patent balderdash.” He spoke in a low voice that reached Elizabeth’s ears alone.
“You doubt Miss Jones’s prediction?”
“Should it come to pass, the event will have been entirely coincidental. Meanwhile, she has given herself a year in which to get herself gone before anyone can accuse her of false prophecy.”
Elizabeth watched the undeclared lovers again not quite make eye contact as the girl gathered her shawl and rose to leave. “Miss Jones might possess more insight than you credit her with.”
“Surely you do not think she possesses the ability to read signs of future events?” Darcy asked.
“Oh, I believe she is quite adept at reading signs. Just not necessarily in teacups.”
Darcy shook his head and took a draught of the beer he had been nursing since they took their seats. It was spruce beer, something she had never seen him drink before they came to Highbury. She nodded toward the tankard.
“How is it?”
“Not as good as Mr. Knightley’s.” He consulted his pocket watch. “I wonder what delays his wife. Were not she and Mr. Dixon to meet us here five minutes ago?”
Elizabeth smiled. Mrs. Knightley and Thomas Dixon were calling upon Miss Bates. Was that not explanation enough for their tardiness? “I expect they are too engaged in conversation to break away.”
The opening of the door caught her attention. The new arrivals were not Mrs. Knightley and Mr. Dixon, however, but the Eltons. The couple acknowledged the Darcys with a nod before going to Miss Jones, over whom they made a great show of solicitude.
Miss Jones assured them of her health, her comfort in the accommodations at Mrs. Todd’s house, and her contentment as Highbury’s newest, if temporary, resident.
“You poor creature — my heart weeps for you,” Mrs. Elton said. “From the moment Mr. E. shared your story with me, I have been able to think of nothing else. I told him this morning that I simply cannot rest until I have done something to improve your situation. Of what use are all my resources, I asked, if I do not employ them in this unfortunate girl’s aid?”
“You are kindness itself, Mrs. Elton,” Miss Jones said. “What did you have in mind?”
“In mind?” Mrs. Elton blinked several times. “Why, I–I have numerous ideas. I simply have not settled on one yet.”
“I shall be grateful for any attention from so fine a lady.” She gestured toward the empty seat across from her. “Perhaps in exchange I could read your fortune.”
“Oh, gracious! I could not possibly — the vicar’s wife — whatever would people say? I would be the talk of the village.”
“There is no harm in it. And not only would you honor me by the privilege, but also do me a great favor, for as the vicar’s wife surely you set the example of fashion in Highbury. Once it was known that you allowed me to read your tea leaves — purely for entertainment, of course — there would be those as would come every morning to have me look into their cups to see what the day might bring.”
“Well, I — it
She glanced at the empty teacup still on the table beside Loretta. Mrs. Elton’s face revealed longing that had nothing to do with thirst.
“I am thinking, Mr. E., that if I submitted — only this once — strictly for amusement, of course — that no one could find fault with me. It would be merely an innocent diversion. And my patronage would benefit poor Miss Jones and her efforts to return home.”
“Oh, do allow her, Mr. Elton,” Loretta said.
Mr. Elton gave his consent, Mrs. Elton sat down, and tea was ordered.
As it arrived, Mrs. Knightley and Mr. Dixon entered. The room seemed to brighten immediately, though whether from Thomas Dixon’s warm greeting to the Eltons or the high polish of his top hat, leather boots, and silver-handled walking stick, Elizabeth could not decide.
Mrs. Knightley’s greeting to the Eltons was cooler but gracious. She gestured towards the tea. “Are you having your fortune read?”
“Why, yes! Mr. E. and Miss Jones simply insisted. It is all in sport, of course. Perhaps when we have done, you would like a turn?”
“Not today.”
“I should think you would enjoy the entertainment. It would be a change of pace from the word games that have lately occupied you.” Mrs. Elton forced a smile. “Have you identified the author of that other puzzle you said arrived in the post?”
“No, not yet.”
“How very frustrating. Does not the handwriting offer some clue?”
“It was penned in block letters, which are not very revealing.”
“Well, I should think that Mr. Knightley could determine their writer, if he turned his mind to it.”
Mrs. Knightley managed a polite smile. “Mr. Knightley’s mind has been occupied with weightier matters.”
“Ah, yes — Mr. Churchill’s death. It must indeed weigh upon you both that he died at your house. He was such a good man! Generosity itself towards Frank, and Frank not even Edgar Churchill’s blood son.” She shook her head and sighed. “I grieve for the whole family.”
“I am sure we all do,” Mrs. Knightley said.
“With tragedy such as that surrounding you, I understand why you do not wish to have your fortune told, even for amusement. I would dread to hear that more ill luck awaited me.” She turned to Miss Jones. “Or do you tell only happy fortunes?”
Miss Jones had grown quiet during the exchange between Mrs. Knightley and Mrs. Elton. Elizabeth was hardly surprised. Though their words were perfectly civil, the undercurrent was strong and deep, and no one of sense would have intentionally ventured into those waters unprepared.
“I speak the truth as I see it,” Loretta said.
Mrs. Elton appeared flustered for a moment, but then adopted a bright smile. “What about you, Mr. Dixon? You
Thomas Dixon, who had seemed to be concentrating more intensely on the shabby state of the room’s wallpaper than on the conversation taking place before him, gave a start at Mrs. Elton’s suggestion. His gaze shifted from the Eltons, to Mrs. Knightley, to the Darcys. He barely glanced at Miss Jones. “Thank you, no.”
Elizabeth had expected a gentleman whose life was so wholly given over to idleness and pleasure to have seized the opportunity for a novel form of entertainment.
“Why not, sir?” Loretta challenged him with a bold gaze. “Do you fear what I might reveal?”
Mr. Dixon adjusted the cuffs of his coat and picked an imaginary piece of lint off his left sleeve. “Not at all.”
“Then what is the harm?” Her tone turned teasing. “Perhaps we might learn the name of your true love.”
The very notion seemed to appall him. With a stiff bow, he encouraged the others to enjoy their diversion and told Mrs. Knightley that she would find him waiting outside whenever it pleased her to return to Hartfield.
Elizabeth watched with disappointment as he quit the inn. She had wanted very much to learn that name.
