“The seventh piece.” Elizabeth showed her sister, who studied it with a small smile despite her weakness.
“Your hands must be nearly touching,” Jane observed. “Over the queen.”
“Yes.”
“It is beautifully done, Lizzy. And so very…intimate.”
Elizabeth studied the drawing again, seeing what Jane meant. The nearness, the position of their hands. This was not merely a recreation of their match.
“You are falling in love with him.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, then stopped. Why lie to Jane? Why lie to herself?
“I think I am,” she said hesitantly.
“Good,” Jane whispered, settling back against her pillows. “He deserves you. And you deserve him.”
“Two more pieces remain.” Elizabeth carefully set the drawing aside. “And much can happen before the story ends.”
“No, Lizzy,” Jane insisted. “All will be well.”
Darcy stoodin the doorway of Netherfield’s drawing room, watching Elizabeth fuss over her sister’s shawl with the same attention she had shown throughout her sister’s illness.
A week. She had been here a full week, and now they were leaving. The thought sat like a stone in his chest.
Bingley also fretted over Miss Bennet. “I will call tomorrow, if you will receive me to check on your recovery. And the next day. And every day until after I am certain you are completely well.”
Miss Bennet’s blush was evident even from across the room.
The naked devotion in his friend’s manner pleased Darcy. Bingley could speak openly and freely because Miss Bennet’s feelings were equally transparent. They were well-suited. The path before them was clear. Would that his own situation were as simple.
Elizabeth glanced up and caught his eye across the room. An understanding passed between them, causing color to rise in her cheeks.
Lord, he wanted to go to her. Wanted to kiss her hand in front of everyone and declare that she was his, that he loved her,that when she left Netherfield, she would take his heart with her. But he could not. Not yet.
The drawings were his courtship, his promise, his plea. He had to trust that they would be enough. For now.
“Mr. Darcy, you seem quite distracted this morning.” Miss Bingley materialized at his elbow, her smile sharp. “I do hope nothing is troubling you.”
“Nothing at all, Miss Bingley.”
“How fortunate.” She followed his gaze to where Elizabeth stood with Miss Bennet. “I suppose we shall all be relieved to return to our usual routine once our guests depart. As delightful as it has been to play nurse to dear Jane, I am eager for some peace.”
The casual cruelty of reducing Elizabeth’s care to an inconvenience made his jaw tighten.
“Miss Elizabeth’s devotion to her sister is admirable. It speaks to a strength of character that is rare.”
Miss Bingley’s smile froze. “Oh, certainly. Very admirable. In its way.”
“There is no qualification to my statement needed, Miss Bingley. None.”
He crossed to where Bingley was helping Miss Bennet to her feet. Elizabeth steadied her sister from the other side.
“Are you certain you are well enough to travel, Miss Bennet?” Darcy asked. “We would gladly host you longer if you need more time to convalesce.”
“You are too kind, sir,” she said with genuine warmth. “I am recovered enough. It is time we returned to Longbourn.”
Time. Yes. Time was the enemy now.
