“I am sorry we cannot join you three,” Jane commented truthfully, the offer of a ride with their three gentlemen friends far more appealing than forcing their company on their host.
“Oh, are you three engaged already?” Mr. Bingley asked, his face wreathed in lines as his gaze flitted toward the lone gentleman in the area filling his plate–Reverend Moore.
“Not quite,” Elizabeth answered with a laugh. “We merely need to speak to our host on a personal matter. Should all go well, little more than the morning will pass before we are disengaged.”
“Then you might be open to a walk?” Mr. Darcy proffered, the cup in his hand lowering to the table.
“If you three are not put off by our being unable to give you a specific time, then… yes,” Elizabeth answered as she viewed her sisters, the bright faces of both confirming her suspicions–they did not mind her acceptance.
“Not in the slightest,” Mr. Darcy nodded, the crinkle of the Reverend’s paper creating a slight pause. “Aside from the ride we are about to enjoy, we have no commitments to speak of; whenever you are free, simply let us know.”
Picking up her buttered toast, Elizabeth leaned toward Mr. Darcy to answer before the loud, whinging voice behind her stole her attention.
“Charles! Whatever are you doing? You promised to speak to me today of your plans… you know, for that ‘small’ purchase you are insisting upon making.”
“Caroline,” Mr. Bingley answered tersely. “I have not even finished breaking my fast, and I promised Fitz and Darcy a ride long before I told you wemightspeak of this today. It can wait an hour or two!” Whispering he added, “You recall I never gave a time.”
“Oh, very well. If you insist upon dirtying your wardrobe and catching a chill to keep your ‘promise.’ I suppose some promises you deem of greater importance than others; such as those you have a mind to keep!”
Whirling from the room, her skirts billowing behind her as much as the fashions allowed, Miss Bingley departed as quickly as she came; a stunned brother left in her wake.
“I apologize. Perhaps I did not make myself as clear to Caroline as I could have… though, given my decision, she will be little pleased when I do speak with her later.”
Setting his fork down, Colonel Fitzwilliam said, “A brisk ride should shake these worries from you. Come. The sooner we leave, the sooner we might enjoy a walk with these fine ladies–only if they are finished with their task of course.”
“And me, mine,” Mr. Bingley sighed as he stood up. “Though I assure you, I shall not allow Caroline to dictate my life… no matter how loudly she decries my decision.”
Patting Mr. Bingley on the back, the Colonel smirked, “A backbone at long last. I rather like this new Bingley.”
“Amusing,” he bit back, “too amusing.” Turning toward the sisters, he gave a light bow, “Ladies, until later.”
“Until later,” Jane echoed, her cheeks brightening as she observed him.
Bowing, the other gentlemen gave their polite assurances of their anticipation for their walk before they filed out of the room, Jane’s eyes fixed to Mr. Bingley until he turned the corner.
“Come,” Elizabeth said, her lips pulling as she fought a smile, “it is time we begin our plan.”
Nodding, the sisters rose from the table, the Reverend standing as they did before quickly returning to his seat–the warm breakfast and paper of greater interest than they.
Minutes later, standing in the corner of the library, they waited for Lady Charmane.
Jane had observed her visiting the room around ten most days, and, bar bribing one of her staff, that seemed their best option to happen upon her. At least their presence would not be considered odd. For all their thoughts of planting themselves in her study, it would only take one member of staff and pfft, that would be an end to it.
One hand flat and the other having two fingers pass over it as if walking, Mary warned of an incoming visitor.
Lady Charmane, if they had any luck.
Hopefully they would prove successful in speaking to her and not have to hide in wait again.
“Ah, the Miss Bennets,” Mr. Thomson cooed as he rounded the corner, the three sisters huddled together.
Standing further behind Jane, Elizabeth reached back, fingers pulling over the row of books until one that had not quite been shelved properly reached her hand. Clasping the book and drawing it to her, she shifted forward, a warm smile on her face.
“Mr. Thomson, what a pleasure. My sisters and I were settling a debate.”
“Debate?”
“Yes, in regard to this book,” she supplied as she pulled the tome from behind her, the title far from what she might have wished. “Jane thought it was Johnson who wrote it… Mary, Kant… and I, I favoured Mary’s view. Poor Jane, she has been found mistaken in this, though she did correct us on the title. I thought it wasAnswers to Enlightenment, but no, she said it wasAn Answer to the Question: What Is Enlightenment?and she was correct.”
