“Mary has her faults, but she is good-hearted,” Jane agreed. “It would be, as Mama says, a smart match.”
“In terms of financial security, yes, it would,” Elizabeth conceded. “But what of love? What of compatibility? So far, their interests seem aligned, but it has been less than a day. How can one come to know a man well enough in so short a time—well enough to trust him with her welfare for the rest of her life? And society seems determined to keep us blind to a prospect’s faults until after the wedding, when it is far too late.” She gave a rueful smile.
“These are deep thoughts, Lizzy. What prompts them?” Jane’s eyes held a teasing sparkle.
Elizabeth met her sister’s gaze, only to see the beginnings of a knowing smile form.
“Who is the fortunate gentleman?” Jane continued in a tone of gentle mischief. "It could not possibly be Mr. Darcy, could it?"
Heat rushed to Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she shook her head with more force than was strictly necessary. “Perhaps your courtship—unofficial though it is—prompts these musings.” She was not ready to share.
Jane’s soft, musical laugh carried over the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. “Very well, keep your secrets. You will tell me when you are ready.”
Meryton was bustling with life that afternoon, the air brisk but bright beneath a pale autumn sun. The streets were alive with a steady stream of pedestrians and the rhythmic tramp of boots from the redcoats stationed nearby. The soldiers’ scarlet coats flashed brilliantly in the sunlight, drawing the admiring—and unabashed—attention of several young ladies along the way.
Kitty and Lydia had planted themselves before the haberdashery’s wide glass windows, their eyes fixed upon the military men striding past. Their whispers and stifled giggles were punctuated by the occasionalpointed finger, heedless of whether the subjects of their admiration noticed.
As Jane and Elizabeth approached, the hems of their cloaks brushed the cobbles. Elizabeth glanced about the lively street. “Where are Mary and Mr. Collins?”
“He took our sister to the confectioner’s,” Kitty answered with a sigh, as though such gallantry were the greatest of privileges. “I wish a man would buy me sweets.”
Lydia smirked. “Well, you could have had Mr. Collins.”
Kitty gave an exaggerated shudder. “Any man but him!” she cried, and the two descended into laughter that drew a few curious looks from passersby.
“Shall we go into the shop?” Jane interjected smoothly, her tone pitched to restore propriety.
The warm scent of new fabric and starch greeted them as they stepped inside the haberdashery. The polished counters gleamed in the afternoon light, and ribbons cascaded in orderly rows of color—delicate pastels, rich jewel tones, and the occasional flash of metallic thread.
A spool of silver and blue ribbon immediately caught Elizabeth’s attention, its sheen subtly shifting in the light. She ran her fingers along the soft satin, imagining how well it would set off her favorite ball gown. Without hesitation, she purchased five yards—enough for her purpose and a little extra, should she change her design. Jane gravitatedtowards a length of rose-colored satin, its gentle blush perfectly suited to her complexion.
Meanwhile, Kitty and Lydia had discovered a wide pale yellow trimming and were soon in an open dispute over it, their voices rising until Lydia abruptly abandoned the quarrel in favor of a bright roll of pink.
With their purchases tucked neatly away, they stepped back into the crisp air. Elizabeth shaded her eyes to scan the street for Mary and Mr. Collins, but before she could spot them, her gaze was drawn to a pair of riders approaching at a measured pace.
Mr. Bingley’s amiable countenance was unmistakable, and beside him rode Mr. Darcy—straight-backed, imposing, and entirely too aware of his surroundings. The ladies’ presence brought a marked change to their expressions; both men’s faces brightened, though Darcy’s smile was smaller, more reserved.
Beside Elizabeth, Jane drew in a soft breath.
The gentlemen dismounted with practiced ease, tying their reins to a post with deft hands.
“Good day!” Mr. Bingley called cheerfully. “We were just on our way to Longbourn to call upon you.”
“Good afternoon, sir,” Jane replied, her voice tinged with warmth. “How do you do?”
“Very well, indeed. As I said, we were on our way to Longbourn. What brings you to Meryton?”
Elizabeth scarcely heard the rest, for Mr. Darcy had approached her and offered a slight bow. The late sunlight caught in his dark eyes, lending them an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
“Good day,” he said politely, but the small curve of his lips betrayed genuine pleasure. “I am very pleased to see you.”
She matched his smile, tilting her head in mock inquiry. “Missing my presence already, sir? What would Miss Bingley say to that?”
A low chuckle escaped him. “Her attentions have waned since you and your sister stayed with us at Netherfield. It is…refreshing.”
Before Elizabeth could frame a reply, the moment was broken.
“Cousin Jane! Cousin Elizabeth!”
