“Perhaps Jane can do it, then,” Lydia said thoughtfully, and sailed from the room on a cloud of giggles.
Elizabeth shook her head, then smiled at her irrepressible sister.
She took a steadying breath, knowing it would be better to get the visit over with. Like pulling out a splinter in a single quick motion, before the pain could make you fumble. Now, all her shame would be laid bare, and the poverty of her family would be known.
The main downstairs room of the cottage, which must serve them as a drawing room, was overfull, but by dint of a little crowding, everyone had found a place. Mrs Bennet was bustling around the room, ensuring everyone was comfortable. “And you, Mr Bingley? Shall I have the maid come and pour more tea?” she asked.
Mr Darcy rose as soon as Elizabeth appeared. She bowed, and Mr Bingley rose a moment later.
“Ah, here she is. Our Lizzy,” her mother said. She came to Elizabeth’s side and all but dragged her into the centre of theroom. “Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy were so kind to call on us, Lizzy, as a courtesy to you, seeing as you have been acquainted in London and at Pemberley.”
“Mr Bingley, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said. Surely she was seeing only what she wanted to see. Mr Darcy could not possibly be looking at her as intently as though he wished to drink her up with his eyes. More likely he was only wondering what on earth he was doing here, in a tiny cottage, visiting a woman who had so rudely left his hospitality. “How good to see you both again. Please do be seated. And there is no need to call the maid, Mama. I can pour.” Indeed, it would be much better not, for the young girl Mrs Bennet was calling their ‘maid’ was in fact a sturdy girl-of-all-work, and not likely to add much elegance to the meeting.
Mrs Bennet gave a tight-lipped grimace. “I suppose you may as well, Lizzy. We shall not take her from her work. But we are perfectly able to keep a maid, and soon we shall be able to move to a better house, if all goes as it should,” she added, turning to the gentlemen. “This little cottage has done well for us since my husband’s passing, but my girls and I are accustomed to something rather better, I assure you.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes in a moment of pure frustration. It seemed all too likely that her mother would let her secret slip, simply out of the need to keep up appearances.
“We have been perfectly comfortable in this house,” Elizabeth said, immediately regretting her haste. The quake in her voice was unmistakable. She would do better to turn the subject. “Speaking of houses, Mr Bingley, how are you and your sisters settling into Netherfield after being away for such a long stint?”
“Oh, my sisters were unable to accompany me this time, I am afraid. But I am sure they would be most grateful that you remembered them. As for Netherfield, it is just as beautiful as it was last year. I confess I will be hard pressed to leave it again, if ever.” He gave Jane a lingering look, and a warm smile crept across his face. “I should be very glad if you all would come and have tea there with us one of these days.”
Elizabeth let out a long breath, relieved that the change of subject had taken. Better still, Mr Bingley turned to Jane, and they began so lively a conversation that Elizabeth began to have modest hopes of them while, to judge by the way she hung about them, Mrs Bennet seemed to have very lively ones.
When she at last looked away from them, Elizabeth could not help but look at Mr Darcy. To her mingled alarm and delight, their eyes caught and held. After a long moment, he crossed the room to stand next to her, far enough apart from the livelier conversation to speak in some confidence.
“How are you, Miss Elizabeth?” Mr Darcy said at last.
Her heart flutters to hear his voice again. She had not realised how much she had missed that simple luxury.
“I am well,” she said.
Mr Darcy smiled. “I am glad. Georgiana would have joined us today, but she was not feeling well and went to bed with a headache. Do not worry over her; she is simply over-tired from the long journey. But not a day has gone by that she has not spoken of you and her wish to see you again.”
“I am honoured. I have missed her dearly these last weeks.”
“It has been more than a few weeks, Miss Elizabeth. Months,” he said.
Elizabeth did not want to allow herself to hope that he had missed her as much as she had missed him.
He turned, seeming to notice the copy of her last novel, sitting on an end table with Kitty’s bookmark in it. She gasped softly when he picked it up. “Our dear friend Mrs Laurence! Perhaps this is the very copy that you loaned to my sister.”
“In fact, it is.”
“How glad I am for your kindness in loaning out your precious copy,” Mr Darcy murmured. “Both for the joy it brought Georgiana, and for the opportunity of beginning our acquaintance.”
“I, too,” Elizabeth said, resolving that she must not read too much in his words. “Our friendship has been precious to me. It is curious to think it all began over a novel.”
“Particularly as I was hesitant at first to allow her to read Mrs Laurence’s Gothic novels. But since you read them, they must be appropriate.” Mr Darcy smiled, but Elizabeth felt chilled to the bone. She did her best to return his smile, but suspected it was not entirely successful. What he had meant as a compliment was only further proof that he would never accept her if he knew she was Mrs Laurence. The pain was almost more than she could bear.
“I believe they are harmless entertainment, sir.”
“Only entertainment? My sister would put Mrs Laurence’s work with Chaucer or Shakespeare.” He gave a short laugh. That laugh did more to undermine her confidence than Georgiana’s high opinion of her work could ever heal. Mr Darcywould never see her books as anything more than trash — at best harmless but worthless, and at worst actively dangerous.
“Well, we must be going, I think,” Mr Bingley said after the clock chimed on the mantel. He rose, casting a charmingly hesitant glance back at Jane, who looked up at him with a smile of perfect guilelessness and jaw-dropping loveliness. “Mrs Bennet, I wonder if you and your lovely daughters would be so good as to accept an invitation for supper at Netherfield next week?”
Her mother looked as if she might faint. However, she was able to keep her composure long enough to accept the invitation. “Oh, how wonderful! We should be most delighted, Mr Bingley. Thank you.”
Elizabeth was surprised and pleased that her mother had accepted. It seemed even her prohibition against going out could be overcome, given sufficient motive in the form of a chance to further a match.
