No one in the room spoke.
She read it again, slower, her heart tapping uncomfortably in her chest at “I cannot pretend I am indifferent and I make no demand, only a hope.”
At last, Elizabeth folded the letter in her lap, fingers pressing it flat.
She felt heat in her cheeks she could not quite hide, but said nothing. She did not look up at once.
Jane sat nearest, hands lightly clasped, watching her sister with gentle concern.
“Well?” Mr. Bennet prompted at last, his voice mild but not without curiosity. “Is it safe to inquire what news has turned you so solemn, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth let out a slow breath. “I am only trying to decide whether to blush or to answer it. Don’t worry, Papa. He is... very proper. He thanks you, in fact.”
Mr. Bennet’s brows lifted in mock alarm. “Thank me? For what sin, I wonder?”
“For your civility, and for receiving him and Mr. Bingley so kindly—even though you hardly knew them,” Elizabeth said.
“How very polite.” Jane’s face lit with relief. “And he wrote only to say that?”
“He asks to continue our correspondence,” Elizabeth said softly, her fingers still moving over the folded letter in her lap, “so we might understand one another better despite the distance.”
“Then he hopes you will answer, no doubt,” Mr. Bennet observed, nodding slowly.
“Yes,” she admitted, lifting her chin though colour warmed her cheeks. “Though he says he will not presume if I choose not to.”
“Which is his way of making sure the next move is yours,” her father added with amusement.
“That seems very proper of him,” Jane offered gently, with her usual calm sincerity.
“It does,” Elizabeth managed, her voice uneven but wry. “And very careful.”
“Good. I prefer a careful suitor to a careless one. But you will need to decide at a certain point if you wish to encourage it,” Mr. Bennet added, lifting his brows.
Elizabeth met his gaze without flinching. “I know.”
“Well. You have my blessing to read and answer his letters as you find fit. I won’t interfere,” Mr. Bennet sighed, shaking his head with wry affection. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you that careful words often come from a careful heart.”
A short silence followed, broken abruptly by the commotion at the front door. The party of ladies who had gone to Meryton had returned home.
Mrs. Bennet’s voice rang shrilly before she had even crossed the threshold. “Lizzy! Jane! Girls! Come see what we found in Meryton—oh, I declare, we have had such success!”
She swept into the room in a flutter of ribbons and shopping baskets, Lydia and Kitty tumbling behind her in breathless excitement.
Elizabeth rose automatically, folding Mr. Darcy’s letter in her hand. Jane moved to greet them with calm serenity.
Kitty held up a hatbox in triumph. “Look, Lizzy! Look at this trimming! Mama says it is the latest London style—”
Mrs. Bennet barely paused to breathe. “And the officers were out in fine display drilling on the green! Such handsome young men—so polite! I told Colonel Forster we should make up a little party for them at Longbourn—”
Elizabeth tried to answer, but Mr. Bennet’s dry voice cut through the babble.
“I am sure you were the picture of decorum, my dear. But before you smother us in military gossip, you might wish to know Elizabeth has had a letter.”
That silenced them. Mrs. Bennet blinked, suspicious. “A letter? From whom?”
Elizabeth felt her cheeks warm again. “From Pemberley. Mr. Darcy wrote.”
The silence turned brittle.
