By the morning after her unexpected dunking, Elizabeth was wild to be out of her room. She was embarrassed that Mr. Darcy had seen her in such dishabille, but it was as much his fault as hers—more, really. First, he ought to have attended the dinner at Netherfield where she had appeared at her best, and second, he ought not have cried out her name and frightened her when she thought she was alone. But what was done was done, and she was determined not to dwell on it. She had done enough of that these past few months. Mr. Darcy was still here, and she did not much care why.
Somehow, she would gain a private moment with him and confess what she had hoped for last summer. If he did not wish to renew his offers, it would hurt—it would hurt badly—but at least she would know. And then, one way or another, she could go on with her life. Elizabeth sighed. She hoped she could go on with her life.
“Lizzy, what are you doing up?” Jane asked.
Elizabeth had not even heard her sister walk in. “I am well, Jane. A warm fire, a good meal, and a full night’s sleep have done their work.”
“I would prefer you remain in bed today, just to be safe. If you are still feeling well this evening, you can come down to dinner.”
“Will Mr. Darcy be there?”
Jane worried her bottom lip, but Elizabeth could see that she was trying not to smile.
“What is it?” Elizabeth inquired, ready to be entertained.
“You need not worry about the meal being awkward for you, Lizzy. Caroline does not know that Mr. Darcy is here, and upon his request, she will not learn of his presence until just before dinner. I suspect she will demand his attentions tonight.” Jane shook her head. “The poor man had hoped to slip out of the house without her knowing, but between the trouble with his horses, a servant taking ill with an influenza . . .”
Elizabeth did not wish for Miss Bingley to command Mr. Darcy’s attentions. Not tonight and not any other night, either. “You did not tell me anyone was ill.”
“Another reason why you should remain upstairs today. We are trying to contain it.”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. She had not detected any of the usual signs of a house with illness inside. Even if the sickness was downstairs, there would have been a few maids missing as they would be needed to nurse the invalid. “Jane, has anyone else been taken ill?”
“No, not yet, but Charles says . . .”
Elizabeth arched one eyebrow. Charles said? “And how long has it been?”
“Only a few days.”
“Janie . . .”
“Lizzy.” Jane returned Elizabeth’s disbelieving stare with an expression of pure innocence. Elizabeth did not wish toinsinuate that her new brother was prevaricating. And really, what purpose would there be to telling such a story?
“I would prefer you remain to rest, but if you insist, you may come downstairs. I must sit with Caroline.” Jane said, moving smoothly past Elizabeth’s pointed gaze.
“Where are the men?”
“Riding. Charles is taking Mr. Darcy out to look at a particular field that floods in the winter.”
Any desire to show herself downstairs vanished. “Hmph. Very well, if you will bring me something to read or sew or do, I will remain here. But I will absolutely be at dinner. I must witness Miss Bingley’s first look at Mr. Darcy.”
“Do not be too hard on him, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth smiled. “I notice you have not asked any clemency for Miss Bingley.”
“Miss Bingley’s heart is not my concern. I fear that if you are unkind to Mr. Darcy, you will only hurt yourself.”
“I promise to be kind, Jane.” She was learning that she did not wish to be anything else—not to him.
Darcy was grateful to be away from the house this morning. Though it had been cold when they left the manor house and the temperature did not seem to be rising, it gave him time away from Miss Bingley and distance to consider what he would say to Elizabeth. In the meantime, Bingley was quizzing him about what could be done for the low-lying field that appeared to flood each winter if he decided to purchase Netherfield.
Here he was on familiar ground. “You could always plant river birch trees. It would take time, but the wood could eventually bring a nice profit.”
“You would not advise draining the field?”
Darcy scanned the landscape. “You could. But it is not so large a plot that you need worry about lost crops. If you build drainage, it is one more thing to maintain and repair. And the trees would not take much tending once they were well started.” His horse pawed at the ground, tired of standing still. “It is always easier to work with nature than against it,” he said, and then led his mount into a trot in the other direction.
Bingley rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth, clearly trying not to smile.
