2 • Bees and Flowers
“Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven’s sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.”
“I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied her second youngest in the darkness of their chaise.
Mrs. Bennet’s fan moved fretfully in the air, bidding the excited heat of the evening away. “Your father has dealt a treacherous hand! Had Mrs. Long come back a day earlier, we would have depended upon her to introduce him to us!”
Mr. Bennet voiced his presence as he peered out the window. “Then you may have the advantage of your friend, my dear, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her. As the cards hold, the party in question has not arrived prior to us. I do not see a carriage befitting their station.”
“Impossible, Mr. Bennet,” his wife declared as if it were obvious. “Impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself! How can you be so teasing? Besides the point, the wealthy have fashionable deadlines which are of course later than most.”
James and Jane exchanged looks. The queue of carriages rocked forward and it was finally their turn to leave the stuffy chaise. Before they could escape inside, Mrs. Bennet heralded her children around her to establish a meeting time at the end of the evening as well as to voice a final complaint toward her husband’s negligence.
Mr. Bennet countered, “The past weeks have hardly been an exercise in negligence. A fortnight’s acquaintance is very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight, therefore I thought to not strain my beloved’s nerves more than necessary. As to your concerns of Mrs. Long, she and her nieces must stand their chance; she will think it an act of kindness, your standing aside until this evening.”
Mrs. Bennet made an indignant sound along with, “Nonsense! Nonsense!”
Mr. Bennet smarted, “Do you now consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, nonsense? What say you, Mary? You are a young lady of deep reflection.”
Caught unaware, Mary wished to say something sensible and awe inspiring but knew not how. Her mouth opened only to hang open.
“While Mary is adjusting her ideas,” Mr. Bennet continued, “let us return to, or should I say begin with, Mr. Bingley.”
His wife let out an exasperated sound. “I am sick of Mr. Bingley.”
He was hardly bothered while he ushered his family to the doors. “I am sorry to hear that, but why did you not tell me so before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called upon him a second time. He seemed quite thrilled for tonight’s festivities. We shall now make a very awkward acquaintance when he arrives.”
The astonishment of the ladies was just what he wished, that of Mrs. Bennet surpassing the rest; although when the initial tumult of joy was over she began to declare it was what she had expected of her husband all the while—
Kitty’s handkerchief flew up to catch her cough, but her brother wasted not a second. Curling his arm through hers while Jane was on her other side, the eldest siblings rushed her through the doors before their mother’s wrath was further incurred. “Let’s get some tea into you,” James declared.
“Tea?” Kitty whined. “But Jamie, Mrs. Lucas said there’d be wine.”
“Not a drop of it until you’ve had a cuppa,” Jane retorted.
“Ugh,” Kitty growled indignantly. “I’ll need to make my own tea every half hour!”
James leaned close for her ears alone, “Try to contain your vulgarity. This evening means a lot to our mother.”
“And wine passes through the system as quickly as tea,” Jane concurred as they arrived at the refreshment table. “Behave yourself.”
They took steps to leave Kitty to her fate but their mother and Lydia arrived. “Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I daresay Mr. Bingley will dance with you at this ball.”
Oh!” Lydia exclaimed stoutly. “I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I’m the tallest.”
James grimaced over his shoulder. “What’s that to do with anything? Can we tell people you bump your head too much on doorways?”
“Lizzy!” their mother all but screamed while Lydia tried to strike him but he was swift. Lydia chased him through the crowd before growing distracted by a young man asking her for the first dance. James met with the Bennet’s neighbor, Charlotte Lucas, and with her they rejoined Jane who had been ensnared by Mrs. Bennet and Charlotte’s own mother, Lady Lucas.
“You’ve met him!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. “Well go on! Tell all! My husband refuses to provide a satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley, no matter how we interrogate him.”
James murmured between Charlotte and Jane, “By we, she means herself and Lydia.”
The ladies chuckled, the latter seconding, “Poor Kitty gets swept within Lydia’s excitement as well.”
James saw a dark glimmer in Charlotte’s eye, then, and let himself be pulled by her away from their mothers. Jane had seen it too, and followed. “I’ve seen him,” Charlotte revealed.
“Please tell me he’s appalling,” he japed. “Warts and thinning hair, the works.”
Jane laughed but scolded. “If mother has her way, one of us is to marry him! Don’t curse us so.”
Charlotte held Jane’s arm within her own as the three of them made a lap around the assembly. “He’s quite attractive, actually. His hair is the color of copper and he wore a fine blue coat atop his black horse.”
Jane’s brows lifted. “He must have come to have tea with you?”
She nodded. “With papa, yes, but he was perfectly lovely to me. He’s quite young. He can’t be much older than you, Jane. And he loves to dance, he said this to me directly. We shan’t wait much longer before we see him here.”
Jane wondered, “Do you know how many will be in his party?”
“Oh,” Charlotte’s brows furrowed while she recollected. “I can’t be sure. As soon as he left us he rode back to London to bring more people to Netherfield. Twelve ladies, and seven gentlemen was what I heard but I truly doubt these numbers. Charles spoke specifically of his sisters and perhaps a cousin.”
“You are on a first name acquaintance with him,” Jane laughed. “Do not reveal this disclosure to our mother. How large is his family?”
“There are six. He and his five sisters. I know nothing of the cousin.”
“Oh!” Jane smiled. “He is quite like you, Jamie. If only your hair had more assam instead of honey in it.”
He shrugged, sharing her smile. “One sister more than me. He has me beat.”
Jane reached behind Charlotte to rake her fingers through his honey brown hair, the silken, floppy tresses long enough to tuck behind his ear but short enough to fall back around his face. He felt Charlotte’s hand between his shoulder blades. “Well, if the rest of the Bingleys are like the Bennets, the rest of us will be blinded by your beautiful families.”
James guffawed. “A set of bumpkins among London’s glossy breed. I think we should place our wages to how long it takes them to kick dirt up in their haste to leave us.”
“Lizzy,” Jane scolded. “Why would you say that? We haven’t even met them.”
“But papa has.”
“That means nothing,” she countered. “He is an old man who prefers the solitude of his library than the science of truly studying and understanding people. Anyhow, both he and the Lucases seem to think well of Charles Bingley.”
“Out of the seven of us, he is the only one who has been to London,” James reminded. “Perhaps his observations and studies have driven him to the library’s solitude.”
“Oh Jamie,” she sighed, and gently shoved his head. “You’re speaking like an old man too soon. Let us be children one more night.”
Charlotte concurred. “I may see the end of my twenties more clearly than either of you but I will drink to that. Let’s find the wine.”
The gentleman standing sentinel beside the wine poured a sweet red for James while Jane and Charlotte preferred a crisp white. James lifted the crimson fluid to his lips, the glass edge indenting his flesh, and it was in this moment the doors to the assembly opened. Heads lifted from wine and conversation. No one could have said whether music still played or not, so invested were they in who was arriving last.
Charles Bingley was easy enough to select from the rather small group. Out of Charlotte’s numbers, it appeared only three men and two women were apart of the party. James heard Charlotte whisper to Jane, “His two sisters, the husband of the eldest, and…I do not know the other man.”
As befitting their station, a herald announced, “Mr. Charles Bingley, accompanied by Lord Fitzwilliam Darcy, Miss Caroline Bingley, and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst.”
“Lord?” Mary voiced, suddenly on James’ other side. “The Darcy fellow is a lord?”
“A small one, surely,” Jane supplied. “Otherwise we’d know of him?”
“Oh...he is heir of Pemberley,” Charlotte remembered quietly, and the group of them fell silent. Pemberley was one of the most prominent estates in England. Even they in their rural ignorance knew of the Derbyshire home which was only small against the castles of kings.
James felt his sisters’ hands on the back of his tucked shirt, grounding themselves. He had removed his waistcoat in the heat of the room and he was certainly not the only gentleman to do so, but this contrasted highly with the layered, lustrous fabrics of the newcomers. Mr. Bingley wore the telltale blue coat, glimmering slightly in the chandelier’s glow. He was good looking and gentlemanly with his copper hair that matched his sisters’; he had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. James could see that immediately in how he grinned and shook the assembly manager’s hand, the very image of old friends despite this being their first meeting.
The brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst, appeared a typical gentleman along with his wife, whose hair was only slightly more auburn than the brilliant copper of her unmarried siblings. Overall, the Bingley sisters’ attire was fine and decidedly fashionable in their contrast to the rest of the women present.
But Mr. Darcy soon drew the attention of the room. Like bees and flowers, the Bennets were drawn to one another since James heard his mother whisper behind his shoulder, “My word, his height...but what handsome features.”
James could not say he disagreed. Mr. Darcy gripped the attention of the room by his fine, tall stature, noble mien, and by the report which circulated the venue within five minutes, of his having ten thousand a year.
“Is his hair a bit long? Is it fashionable?” Mrs. Bennet queried to Charlotte. “It’s a slight unruly, isn’t it? Oh, but I suppose it is quite rugged…”
James analyzed the man of which his mother was having difficulty developing an opinion. The hair was nearly black, or a rich brown that reminded him of a Christmas Mr. Bennet had brought home chocolate for the family. It had been bitter but sweet, and he had been the only Bennet to enjoy it enough to finish the parcel. As far as James could tell, the man had quite straight hair, but the late summer’s humidity had pulled it into soft waves. The tresses on the nape of his neck were perhaps too long but instead of the hair falling messily over his forehead, it was combed neatly to one side. Unlike Mr. Bingley’s, Darcy’s hair pushed off his scalp with quite a bit of volume.
Mr. Bingley had soon made himself acquainted with all the principal people in the room. He proved lively and unreserved as he appeared determined to dance every melody struck up by the orchestra. After his first dance with Charlotte, however, Mr. Bennet succeeded in drawing him over to meet his family. Mr. Bingley’s own joined them.
Mr. Bennet began, “It is my pleasure to introduce my Mrs. Bennet, and our five children. The eldest, Jane, James, Mary, Katherine, and of course, Lydia.”
“Charles Bingley,” he smiled with a hand on his chest. “Charles, please.”
He kissed Jane’s hand first and then shook James’s while the members of his party chose to introduce themselves individually. Mr. Darcy noticeably remained on the outskirts of their circle, silently watching the ballroom’s goings on. Mrs. Hurst was kind but collected whereas Caroline’s hand felt limp and ready to be pulled back when James bowed to kiss its surface. Her hand parted from his without contact of his mouth as if they had silently agreed upon it. Her topic of conversation afterward cemented his disinterest.
“It is quite dark and stuffy in here. Has no one thought of rebuilding the place with less wood? You are brave folk to have so many candles in such a place. You can see the tails of smoke among the rafters.”
He smiled kindly and left her in favor of Bingley’s company, which was diametric. “This is extraordinary!” he all but sang. “There is never anything like this in London. You’re even free to remove your waistcoats here!”
His blue eyes landed on James, who also felt Darcy’s dark gaze turn toward him in the corner of his eye. He laughed congenially. “It is hardly proper, I assure you. Give my mother a moment to notice and she will scold me.”
Charles’ grin never faded. He leaned forward to say as if in confidence, “I shan’t catalyze your punishment. Simply allow me to voice my jealousy.”
James felt his lips matching that smile. Charles was making it difficult to find a fault in the man—
Mr. Darcy said, “A punishment is hardly what one would receive at a London engagement. Lacking the appropriate pieces of attire would bar the individual from entering the assembly entirely.”
James’ brows reached for his hairline as he brought his glass to his lips to hide his expression. He twisted on the ball of his foot, giving a silent good luck to his sisters as he pulled Charlotte with him under the excuse of a dance.
To his surprise, Charles and Jane lined up next to them as the music began. Not a minute must have passed but they exchanged nods and the music commenced. It started with the four of them each grasping hands to turn in a circle. Charles made a point to say, “I apologize for him.”
The four broke into their separate pairs but when they rejoined, James inquired, “You needn’t give apologies for others who are unwilling. I cannot say I am surprised anyhow.”
Charles guffawed but was unable to reply until their next joining. “Are you so skeptical of us? What reputation has London citizenry created for itself?”
Charlotte cut in with a warning look to James, “Not an altogether negative impression, I assure you.”
Charles impressed James by shaking his head. “I don’t buy that for a moment, but I will have to scold my companion later tonight. He is not even native to London. He hasn’t any excuse.”
“I suppose everyone has some excuse,” James supplied.
Charles beamed as they broke apart but the dance ended a moment later. “You are compassionate to say so but I wish you good fortune wriggling it out of him. If Darcy was not staying with me in Netherfield, I doubt he would have come tonight.”
“I hope I do not darken your impression of me,” James laughed, “but I haven’t any desire to discover anything more from the man.”
Even in this, Charles’ smile did not tarnish. If anything, it shined brighter. “Coming to Netherfield is proving deliciously refreshing with every moment. The air is rich and I far prefer your wicked honesty. As if London’s elite did not have enough money, they flock around Darcy like insects in this heat. Speaking of, how aren’t there any flies?”
Charlotte tapped her nose. “Smell the cedar? Mosquitos loathe the odour.”
“I did not see any bonfires outside, though,” he voiced.
She turned to point at the large tapers as thick as a man’s arm on either end of the room as well as beside the entrances. Charles’ eyes widened with curiosity. “You mean, those candles have the scent within the wax?”
“Yes,” Charlotte smiled and gestured to James—
“Charles.”
The quiet yet smooth baritone took James by surprise as he and Charles turned to face Mr. Darcy. “A word,” he requested tersely.
He clearly expected for Bingley to follow since he turned and they watched those dark shoulders silently part the crowd. Bingley squeezed Jane’s hand consolingly and leaned towards James. “He hates being left alone, especially among people.” He winked, and left them.
Lydia appeared beside Jane, then. Her mouth opened, and then closed, clearly not seeing the intention of her arrival. “Where’s he gone?”
“Mr. Darcy wished to have a word,” Jane provided.
“Oh him,” Lydia scoffed. “Such a waste in qualities.”
Jane laughed, “Whatever do you mean?”
“Well he is handsomer than Bingley,” she stated as if it was obvious, “but his manners have turned the tide of his initial popularity. He is quite a disgusting man.”
James’ brows lifted. “Tell us your true feelings, Lydia.”
Lydia gripped his arm in earnest. “Did you not see his behavior during our introduction? He did not shake papa’s hand or introduce himself!”
“You didn’t either,” Jane interrupted. “Father said your name and you ran off to dance with the Longs’ boy.”
“I won’t stay where I am unwanted,” Lydia proclaimed. “Bingley’s already set his sights on Jane, and Darcy is so unbearably proud I shan’t waste a moment on him.”
James laughed darkly while Jane retorted, “Do you hear your own words?”
Lydia rested her chin on James’ shoulder. He felt the sweat of her cheek against his own and gently leaned his head back against her curly hair. “All I’m saying is Darcy is above our company and above being pleased. If you can prove me wrong then I will delight in your nuptials, since Darcy will surely be among Bingley’s groomsmen.”
She nuzzled against James and whined, “Lizzy, will you let me taste your wine?”
He turned his head to kiss her hair. “No.”
She pouted, “Why? Kitty’s but a year older than me and she has a glass.”
“And it is one of the few occasions she has something before you. Mother is too lenient with you.”
He grimaced against the wet raspberry she kissed against his cheek. “Why shouldn’t I be pampered? I’m the youngest.”
“Congratulations, you were born when our parents were too tired to provide proper enforcement.”
She giggled and hugged his middle while he drained the glass. “Is it difficult being the only boy, Lizzy?”
He inhaled slowly for a long sigh, and then, “It’s only difficult being your brother, Lydia. Your hair takes up too much space.”
“OH!” she growled, her hands curling to tickle his sides but her arms loosened and he took off through the assembly with her on his heels.
“Lizzy! Lydia!” they heard Mrs. Bennet screech, however a new song was striking upon the orchestra’s strings. James stopped instantaneously and caught his sister’s momentum to turn it into the first motions of the dance. To his surprise, Charles had returned and asked Jane for a second dance, and further along the line, was Mr. Darcy with Mrs. Hurst.
“What a surprise,” Lydia commented when she noticed where his eyes were. “Mr. Bingley is getting on well with Jane, though.”
This was an understatement. As James observed the pair from the corner of his eye, he had never seen his sister laugh so freely, nor danced as readily. He supposed Charles had this contagious quality to his character, but he knew Jane better than anyone.
When the dance was finished, Lydia hugged him but scolded, “Not another one! There are so few gentlemen here, I must spare them each a dance.”
“Thank you for taking me into such brief consideration,” he scoffed, but lent her his handkerchief for her to wipe her face while he departed for a fresh glass of wine. A low voice drew his attention to the end of the table, where Mr. Darcy had pulled Bingley aside once more.
“Won’t you dance with us again?” Charles insisted.
“I will not,” his companion refused.
“Come, William,” he said with more urgency. “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing by yourself in this stupid manner. Much better to dance and play at merriment. You may well surprise yourself by actually enjoying yourself.”
“You know I think too highly of you, Charles, to lie in such a way. I yet refuse. You know I detest it, unless I am well acquainted with my partner. At an assembly such as this, it would be a punishment to me to stand up with any other woman in the room.”
Bingley scoffed, “Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life as I have this evening; and there are several you must agree are uncommonly pretty.”
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,” Darcy replied. James peeked at the gentlemen to see them looking at Jane, who was currently with Mrs. Bennet.
Charles agreed wistfully, “She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld.”
“Then you had best return to her and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Charles caught his arm before he could turn away fully. “Disagree with me all you like, but I brought you here for your betterment. You must interact with the waking world. This is an invigorating change of people, I promise you. Please. If not the women then perhaps the second Bennet?”
Darcy recoiled somewhat. “You mean I should dance with a man?”
Charles guffawed. “Perhaps at the end of the night when the wine barrels have emptied, but I meant for you to appeal to him for conversation. His tongue may prove as sharp as yours. You could use the competition.”
“Mr. Darcy.”
The pair perked up for Caroline Bingley’s interruption. “Won’t you share a dance with me?”
Darcy seemed to consider it and then answered, “Of course.”
Charles made an exhausted sound and exhibited the first amount of annoyance James had yet seen. “Acquainted enough, are you?”
“Charles—”
“No, no,” he waved them away. “Far be it for me to wish my friend real happiness.”
He moved to make his way along the trestle table, and James rotated quickly so to not appear the eavesdropper, although he soon felt a hand on his shoulder blade.
“James!” Charles greeted with a fresh breath. “You are not dancing? I estimated more ladies than men present. We are needed.”
James was impressed by the man’s gallantry, then, as he was pulled forward toward his own mother. Charles asked Mrs. Bennet for a dance, which had her floundering and only too eager for the music to begin. James invited one of the Long's nieces for the dance to appease Charles’ insistence. He could not help but observe his and Darcy’s forceful neglect of each other during the music.
Afterward, James drew Charles toward the entrance for some fresh air. “Is my face horribly red?” he laughed, sipping the crisp white wine.
“Yes,” James laughed, “but it should be cooler at this time of night.”
Charles gasped as the night air encompassed them like a cloak, all darkness and muffled silence from the noise within. “I needed this. Thank you, James. Why does your family call you Lizzy? If I may ask.”
James sipped his red with a shrug. “My middle name is Elizabeth.”
“Ah!” Bingley laughed merrily. “That explains it. I suppose Mrs. Bennet would have named you this if you were a fifth daughter.”
“Undoubtedly,” James confirmed.
“Walk with me,” Charles requested, gently holding James’ arm to steer him toward a path past the carriages. “I hope you do not misunderstand. I love my family dearly, but you are blessed in the quality of yours.”
Without really thinking about it, James let his arm fall within the crook of Bingley’s. The two of them were of the same height and strolled easily past the mares and stallions. When they came upon a glistening black horse, Charles stroked its cheek and snout. The creature had the calm of one familiar with its master. “Darcy gave this one to me,” he said.
“A fine mount,” James provided.
For whatever reason, Charles laughed. “A stubborn beast, like the master who bestowed him to me. Caroline is infatuated though.”
“A fine match,” James returned.
Charles looked him full in the face and accused cheerfully, “I’m boring you! I can tell!”
James let the giggle escape his throat. “I am not as knowledgeable in these things. I’m not the one you should converse such matters with.”
But Charles surprised him with, “Good. This small talk is exhausting,” and pulled him with renewed vigor along the path. “Where does this lead?”
“Out of Meryton,” James answered. “Eventually to Netherfield.”
“Ah,” Bingley hummed, and turned them back toward the assembly. “I would never hear the end of it if I were to leave without my sisters. Darcy would hardly care. That is both a treat and a nuisance of his character.”
“Are you sure? You are the reason for his being here.”
James realized his blunder too late. Charles’s shoes scraped the gravel in his halt. “Aha! I knew you were listening to us,” he beamed. “What a treat. You do not waste breath on pointless words, so I did not anticipate finding a fault in you.”
“I have four sisters, Mr. Bingley,” James reminded. “I can’t afford to waste my breath. I did not have malicious intentions—”
His words were waved aside. “Peace, please. I have sisters, myself, don’t I? I know how curiosity and eavesdropping become second nature. Call me Charles, James…or do I have the liberty to use Lizzy?”
Laughter burst from James’ mouth as they strolled around the assembly building. “I can’t say whether my mother would be livid or beside herself if you choose the latter.”
Charles inquired, “Is it reserved for intimate family?”
He shook his head. “Charlotte Lucas may as well be my fifth sister and she often addresses me as Lizzy. But she just as easily calls me Jamie.”
“Jamie it is,” Charles decided. “Why would Mrs. Bennet be livid?”
“I cannot say.”
“Jamie,” Charles gave his best attempt at scolding. “It has been only an evening but I sense a keen friendship in you. Why can’t you tell me?”
“Well, it involves a friend’s future courtship,” James said bluntly.
Charles blinked and fell silent suddenly. “I see…”
James stopped walking, bringing both of them to a halt. “I didn’t mean to be untoward. I just…surely you suspected…?”
His breath paused in his throat as Charles’ fingers dusted over his cheek. “Of course I suspected, yes. I must always suspect. It is the consequence of my station in life.”
“How torturing.”
Charles bowed over with his laughter. “Yes! Please don’t misunderstand, and—god—I sound silly with what Darcy puts up with.”
James suppressed his sigh and instead consoled, “He is not here right now. Is marriage not an immediate goal of yours?”
Charles’ weight leaned to and fro as he finished his wine. He set the glass on a windowsill as he said, “It is neither immediate nor far off. I only…” His words faded as if he was contemplating whether to reveal his thoughts. “I suppose I decided a long time ago I already had the money and prestige because of my family. I would want the love for myself. I wanted this much to be within my own control. Do I sound mad?”
“No,” James replied calmly. “You sound brave.”
Charles raked his hair back into place with a strained laugh. “Jamie, you sound so hopeless!” he exclaimed while his weight heaved.
James gripped Charles’ upper arms to help him stand. He only meant to hold Charles steady, but he felt the pads of fingers beneath his chin, and then James realized there was a faint dusting of freckles on Charles’ nose.
His lips were soft, and he tasted like white wine. From his hair came the scents of jasmine and lemon rind. The kiss was long and soft, but before James’ mind could catch up, Charles’ forehead rested against his and he was speaking. “There is a difference between realism and cynicism, Jamie. Don’t let the latter overcome the former. Let people surprise you for the better.”
He leaned back, then, as if he remembered something. “Caroline will be needing me. It will be near time for us to retire as well.”
He left Jamie in the darkness beside the window. The ghost of lips against his own and the aroma of his hair rooted James in place…and ever so faintly, Jane’s lavender perfume from his jacket. The summer night was oddly cold against his skin as he made himself tread back inside. James returned Charles’ glass to the trestle table while he refilled his own, if nothing else than for something to hold as he came to stand between his mother and Caroline Bingley. He could not say what they were discussing until he heard Lydia’s shriek of laughter from the current dance. Peering around himself, he realized he was alone with the Bingley sisters, Mr. Hurst, and Mr. Darcy.
“That girl certainly is…loud in her glee, isn’t she?” Mrs. Hurst voiced as if he was not there.
Caroline remarked, “And her stature…as if her voice wasn’t enough on the ears, you cannot hope to escape from such a long-legged thing.”
A wet snort jerked their attention to James, who was forced to set his wine down. Caroline stood appalled by the spectacle, but Jamie knew he was officially drunk enough to not regard her opinion so highly. He set his glass back on the table, and took it upon himself to excuse himself from the assembly altogether.