Her heart ached for him. She reached out and lightly touched the top of his hand before withdrawing. “There is no shame in acknowledging what may be,” she said gently. “Perhaps you shall be proven wrong?”
“An idle fancy, I think, Miss Elizabeth. Never fear—I came to terms with my lot in life long ago. Cruel words no longer wound as they once did.”
She frowned. “You ought not speak so meanly of yourself. I value your friendship and look forward to our conversations.”
He turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. No matter his features, his eyes were entrancing—dark and warm, with a mysterious depth that drew her in. They stirred something within her, though she could neither name the feeling nor fully understand it.
“I thank you, Miss Elizabeth, for reminding me of my mother’s lessons. I know my worth—I assure you. But there are days when my burdens feel heavier than others.” He stood and offered her his hand. “Allow me to assist you. I must return to Netherfield.”
She accepted his hand and rose to her feet. “I must go as well. ’Tis nearly time for breakfast, and my father will miss me.” She paused, then lifted her brow with a playful smile. “He relies on my ‘good sense’ to shield him from my silly sisters.” She released his hand—which she only then realized she had held far too long—and stepped back. “Until we meet again, Mr. Darcy.”
He inclined his head and turned away. Elizabeth did the same, skipping lightly down the path and out of sight. She did not see the gentleman pause and glance back, watching until she disappeared from view.
Breakfast at Longbourn proved a noisy affair, yet Elizabeth paid it little attention. Her thoughts lingered on their neighbor’s guest. Without meaning to, she had become attached to him. Mr. Darcy was a friend—of that she was certain—but could he be something more? Did she even wish for such a thing? He was all a gentleman ought to be in honor, principle, and behavior—and such attributes, to her mind, far surpassed any mere handsome countenance.
After breakfast, the ladies retreated to the parlor. The clouds had grown ever darker, and Elizabeth knew rain threatened. Each settled into their own pursuit: Jane brought her embroidery and joined Elizabeth, while Kitty and Lydia bickered in the corner as they attempted to refashion one of Lydia’s bonnets. Mary, with a book in hand, ignored them as always. It was in this atmosphere that a note arrived from Netherfield for Jane. She read it through and then handed it to her sister.
My dear Miss Bennet,
I hope this note finds you in good health and spirits. My sister, Mrs. Hurst, and I would be most delighted if you would dine with us at Netherfield today. The gentlemen are to dine with the officers, and so we ladies will be forced into each other’s company for the duration. As someone with sisters, surely, you must know how dangerous such a plight can be! Louisa and I will most certainly detest each other by the night’s end!
Pray do not trouble yourself to refuse, as we shall take it quite amiss if you do. We sincerely hope you will favor us with your presence.
Yours most sincerely,
Caroline Bingley
Elizabeth handed the note back. “’Tis a shame the gentlemen are dining out.” She already knew this, for Mr. Darcy had mentioned it that morning. “Shall we ask Papa for the carriage?” She glanced out at the dark clouds once more. “It will rain before you get there; I am certain of it.”
“What is this?” Mrs. Bennet appeared as if conjured, snatching the note from Jane’s hands. “Yes, you must accept, Jane,” she said with brisk authority. “And we might contrive a way for you to remain at Netherfield overnight. I have just the thing—you will take Nellie.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth cried, dismayed. “It will rain—”
“Precisely.” Mrs. Bennet interrupted triumphantly. “And then Jane will be obliged to spend the night.”
So many flaws riddled that reasoning that Elizabeth was rendered speechless. Gaping, she turned to Jane, but her sister merely shrugged.
“I shall send a note to Miss Bingley accepting her invitation,” she said with composure, rising and quitting the room. Unwilling to let her mother’s scheme go unchallenged, Elizabeth rose and made to follow.
“And where are you going, Miss Lizzy?” her mother asked, stepping into her path.
“I must speak to Papa about an important matter.” She stepped to the side, but Mrs. Bennet grabbed her arm, halting her progress.
“You will not spoil this for Jane! It is perfect—she will have more time in Mr. Bingley’s company. Come now, Elizabeth, surely you can see the advantages.” Mama beamed at her own ingenuity.
Sighing, Elizabeth gently disengaged her arm. “And if Jane is caught in the rain and falls ill? She will hardly endear herself to Mr. Bingley from her sickbed.”
Laughing, Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “No one ever died from a soaking. A slight chill will keep her at Netherfield Park all the longer. Eventually, she will be able to leave her bed and join the others downstairs.”
Knowing her mother would not be swayed, Elizabeth left without another word. To her relief, Mrs. Bennet made no further attempt to detain her. Determined to speak with her father, she approached the study door and raised her hand to knock, only for it to open at that moment, revealing Jane, a sly grin on her face.
“It is taken care of,” she said, her smile touched with mischief. “Papa has agreed to spare the horses so I may take the carriage. Mama will not learn of it until it is too late.”
Elizabeth laughed. “You sly creature! I had no idea you were capable of such cunning. Brava!”
Jane’s smile wavered. “I do not want our mother to ruin this,” she whispered. “She has driven away so many suitors. A pretty face will not always compensate for troublesome relations.” She reached out, gave Elizabeth’s arm a gentle squeeze, and disappeared—no doubt to pen her reply to Miss Bingley.
Elizabeth entered her father’s study. He looked up from his book with a smile and gestured to the chair beside him. “What brings you here, my dear?” he asked, closing the volume and giving her his full attention.
