Jane drew a careful sigh, tilted her head the other way, and frowned. “I cannot know what to make of it. She says that she was surprised to receive my note yesterday.”
“‘Surprised’?” I asked. “Not ‘pleased’ or ‘delighted,’ but ‘surprised’?”
Jane’s gaze touched mine, then dropped again to the page. “She says that they have been very busy, attending soirees and parties, and that she scarcely even found time to dispatch this note. That she has been pleased to be in company with Georgiana Darcy again…”
My spine stiffened at Miss Darcy’s name. I had not yet reconciled my earlier visions of the spoilt young heiress with the bashful bookworm I had met at Hatchards. Perhaps she was more imperious when she was at home than in the company of strangers. With such a brother, how could it be otherwise? I ought to trust the words of Mr. Wickham, who had known her in her youth, over an opinion founded on mere moments.
“Does Miss Bingley say anything else?” Aunt Gardiner probed gently.
Jane folded the note and shook her head. “Nothing of import. Fitting her gown for Twelfth Night and hoping for an introduction to the Countess of Matlock. What connection could she possibly have there for such an introduction?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you not recall? Mr. Collins told us she is Mr. Darcy’s aunt.”
Jane looked down and tucked her note into the pocket of her morning gown. “That… well, I suppose, that is my answer.” She sighed and met my eyes. “She has higher ambitions than to associate with me.”
“And she made no mention of her brother at all?” I demanded.
“None.”
I sent a questioning glance to my aunt and picked up my tea cup. “One wonders whether she even means to tell her brother of your presence in Town.”
Aunt Gardiner sent me a warning look. “You know no such thing, Lizzy. Let us not make ourselves unhappy for no reason. Surely, you will hear from her again, Jane.”
My sister pasted a thin smile on her face. “Yes. Surely.”
“Well, what if you do not?” I patted Jane’s hand. “Mr. Bingley does not need his sister’s approval, nor do you. In fact, I daresay Mr. Van der Meer was just as agreeable, and he seemed rather taken with you. Did you not think?”
Jane poked at her egg with her spoon, refusing to look up at me. “Of course, Lizzy.”
“And besides, we have better things to do today than fret over Miss Bingley. The Serpentine waits for no woman, is that not right, Aunt?”
Aunt Gardiner chuckled. “I hope I can still remember how to skate.”
HydeParkbuzzedwithexcitement. The Serpentine, frozen and gleaming, tempted even the most hesitant of Londoners to try their luck on its slippery paths. The sun painted the horizon in vivid winter hues, casting a magical glow on the skaters below. Children darted around, laughter echoing, while couples moved gracefully together. Others, to my glee, took less graceful spills onto the ice.
My aunt and uncle were making a slow tour of the edges of the ice—arm in arm, heads bent close as they helped each other along. Charlotte chose to remain safely on the sidelines, sipping hot cider and observing the chaos. Jane, however, had put aside this morning’s disappointment and glided effortlessly beside Mr. Van der Meer, who clung to her like an overly eager pup.
“You are quite the skater, Miss Bennet,” I heard him remark as I passed. “I believe you were too modest when you spoke of your talents on the ice.”
Jane laughed. “It helps to have a steady arm for support, sir.”
“Indeed!” he cried. “And that is why I look such an expert today, for you have not yet let me stumble, madam.”
After that, they passed out of earshot, so I looped around to follow them. A group of children darted across my path, and I drew up, laughing as I watched them skittering across the ice. And then the laughter died in my chest as my gaze landed on a tall figure in a top hat.
Mr. Darcy.
If I had to guess, he had seen me long before I ever saw him. He was frozen in place, an oddly… soft look on his face. I could think of no other word to describe it. And on his arm was Miss Bingley, who had yet to notice my presence. She was busy trying to point out someone to him, but he wasn’t listening.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Darcy.”
Miss Bingley’s head did snap around at my greeting. She left off waving to whomever she was trying to wave at, and stared at me, the color bleeding from her frost-nipped cheeks. I smothered a wicked smile. “And Miss Bingley.”
Mr. Darcy swept off his hat to offer me a splendid bow—not even slipping on the ice as he dipped from the waist. “Miss Elizabeth. A pleasure to see you again.”
I tilted my head and smiled winningly at them both. What a perfectly suited pair—the proud and the prideful. “I am sure the pleasure is all mine. Oh, Miss Bingley, it wassovery kind of you to send over such a pretty note for my sister this morning. I believe she means to call on you tomorrow to return the courtesy, but you see, she is rather occupied at present.“ I gestured to Jane, still skating along on Mr. Van der Meer’s arm.
Miss Bingley’s color had slipped from translucent pallor to some odd shade of olive green. “Not at all, Eliza,” she managed, though her eyes bulged and her throat did not sound as if it were working right. “We were about to warm ourselves by the fire pits, were we not, Mr. Darcy?”
