“It is much worse when the weather is fine.”
The smile spread to her mouth. “True! With this rain, I ought to be grateful that the weather is assisting my recovery. Another week will do.”
“You said you are a quick healer,” I reminded her. I would rather she give herself an extra week to be safe; however, I knew that, were I in her condition, I would never agree to more.
“It is miserable being trapped indoors when one would rather venture out.”
“A sentiment I share with you.” I was pleased to be discussing something we had in common. Conversing with her was easy and agreeable, a delightful, flowing back-and-forth.
I reminded myself again that I must speak with Longbourn’s groom before departing. If my idea was worthy, Elizabeth would soon have a means to enjoy the out of doors without endangering her ankle.
We talked about books and music and the effects of the recent storm. The Widow Scott had called earlier with a healing salve, a remedy she swore had helped generations in her family recover from all sorts of injuries. This, of course, led to an exchange about her neighbors and how they had been affected by the storm.
I grew increasingly warm by the fire, but so long as Elizabeth seemed to enjoy my company, I would not hint at my discomfort. How grateful I was that I had not chosen to give her chocolates, or they would be melting in my pocket!
After checking to ensure the attention of the other occupants of the room was engaged elsewhere, I pulled the box from my coat pocket and extended it to her. The satin ribbon gleamed.
Elizabeth pressed one hand against her chest, her eyes uncertain. “For me?”
I nodded and held it closer for her to take. Nobody seemed to notice, and I looked on in pleasure as a smile blossomed over Elizabeth’s face and a comely blush bloomed in her cheeks.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” She slipped off the ribbon and removed the lid. Her gasp made everyone look our way. “I have never seen anything so beautiful!”
I replied softly, hoping her family would realize the contents of the box were not intended for them. “They are a sweetmeat from Constantinople. Those fortunate enough to have sampled them call them Turkish Delights.”
She held the box so I could see inside. “Are you certain they are edible? They are too pretty to eat!”
“What is that?” asked Mrs. Bennet in a piercing tone, already crossing the room for a closer look. Her youngest daughters followed her like ducklings.
Miss Kitty gasped loudly. “They are perfectly beautiful!”
Miss Lydia clapped her hands and bounced. “You must let us have one! I shall die if you do not let me taste one.”
Did Elizabeth’s sisters not understand that the gift was not theirs? I sat on my hands lest I snatch the box away from them.
Apparently intrigued enough to stir from his chair rather than merely observe from across the room, Mr. Bennet approached us to examine the cause of all the fuss.
Mrs. Bennet thumped her fan against his chest. “Do you remember when you would bring me pasties from the bakery? You were so attentive when we were courting!”
Mr. Bennet frowned, though the direction of his unhappiness was unclear. Was he displeased with himself for allowing hisattentions to his wife to dwindle or with me at the realization that I intended to court his daughter?
Elizabeth clutched the box closer to her. “This is an extremely thoughtful gift. Mr. Darcy must have gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange for them to be sent here.”
Arranged to be sent?I did not like that. Procuring the Turkish Delights had not been a simple task. My man had gone to a great deal of trouble…
I sighed inwardly. Without the help of my man of business, I would have no gift to offer. AllIhad done was to order everyone about and pay generously. My will had been done with little personal sacrifice on my part.
She looked at me then, her eyes sparkling with pleasure, leaving me to question whether she had intended to imply what I had assumed. Perhaps I had drawn my conclusion based on yet another misunderstanding.
Bingley, too, got swept up in the excitement. “Great trouble, indeed! I have made several attempts to try a Turkish Delight, but every time I get word a new shipment has arrived, they are already sold out! There is only one shop in London that sells them, and the Prince Regent gets preference, of course. They are a favorite of the royal family.”
Miss Bennet commented gently, “If they are so rare, and Mr. Darcy gave them to Lizzy, then we should allow her to enjoy them without any obligation to share with us.”
Finally! Someone with sense!
“Speak for yourself, Janie! I want a taste, and I will not move from this spot until I get one!” replied Miss Lydia, her feet planted beside the stool where Elizabeth’s injured ankle was resting.
Miss Mary, whose curiosity had moved her to join the rest of her family for a peek of the confections, furrowed her brow ather outspoken sister. “I thought you disapproved too strongly of Mr. Darcy to accept anything from him.”
