She replaced the stopper with care and pressed her fingers to the ribboned note one last time. Then, closing the lid and securing the clasps, she rose and carried the case to her wardrobe. The box of scents were too large to fit within the box she purchased. So she placed it behind the folded shawls and lace-edged handkerchiefs, near where she kept the box containing her other gifts. There they rested at the back of the wardrobe, in the same secret place where she kept the locket, the pearl combs, and the letters she read by candlelight when the household slept.
Her hand lingered upon it, a tender caress sealing her unspoken gratitude and the fragile hope that blossomed in her breast.
Her admirer had gifted her more than scent. He had given her memory, meaning, and promise—and she treasured them all.
The breakfast table at Longbourn was already well laden when Elizabeth descended the stairs. A warming tray of boiled eggs and ham sat near the hearth, while a silver rack held neatly stacked slices of toast, browned before the kitchen fire. Mrs. Hill had set out blackberry preserves, cold meats, and a fresh loaf of bread, its crust still crackling from the bakehouse. Jane, as usual, had risen early and poured the tea.
“Good morning, dearest,” Jane said, her smile serene and knowing as she offered Elizabeth a cup.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth slid into her seat and reached for the toast. “How cheerful everything appears this morning!”
“Mama has not yet come downstairs. Neither Kitty nor Lydia. Mary left but a moment ago—she claimed some matter of business she must attend.” Jane buttered a scone and took a bite.
Elizabeth laughed, slicing a boiled egg. “Could it concern Mr. Sanderson? He paid her a great deal of attention last evening. I trust he is not trifling with our sister’s heart, for I shall be forced to defend Mary if he has.”
Jane’s eyes kindled with amusement. “Yes, I saw the looks they exchanged. Do you know his situation? Most officers are not in a position to take a wife unless they have some additional income.”
“No, I know little of him. Lydia may be able to tell me, but I hesitate to ask. She would wonder at my curiosity, and I would not have Mary feel uneasy. She so rarely receives such attention.”
“Yes, that is prudent.” Jane paused, then continued, keeping her tone light but not unaffected. “I wonder whether Charles might call. He mentioned the possibility last evening.”
Elizabeth glanced sidelong at her sister. “He will. You are betrothed, after all. If he can stay away, I shall be astonished. Nothing short of urgent business could keep him from your side. And if not to-day, then on the morrow.”
Jane’s eyes brightened. “Yes, you are correct. Oh, Lizzy, I am so happy! But what of Mr. Darcy? Do you suppose he will accompany him? Would that please you?”
Elizabeth stared at her sister, aghast, as she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea. “Why, Jane, what are you implying? He may or he may not—what can it signify to me? He often attends his friend.” She lifted the locket chain and turned it between her fingers. The locket remained hidden in her bodice. Jane observed the motion, her features touched with gentle curiosity.
“Have you considered he might be your mysterious admirer?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“I have scarcely taken the time to entertainanyname.” The admission came in a whisper, though she felt no shame in it. “I confess, I have speculated and possibly eliminated gentlemen, yet I have not dared give my admirer a name. But Mr. Darcy? He could not be the one, could he? The gifts began before we made amends and began afresh.”
“I always said he liked you more than you believed. Do not dismiss him.”
Jane’s words echoed in Elizabeth’s mind. The notion seemed impossible. Mr. Darcy had not been in her reckoning at all.Could it be?The thought sent a flutter through her stomach. She felt no distaste, as once she might have done.
They finished the meal in companionable ease, the clink of cutlery the only sound. Afterward, the sisters withdrew to the front parlor, each to her chosen pursuit—Jane with a bit of fineneedlework, Elizabeth with a book she had long wished to finish but had too often laid aside of late.
An hour passed, and Elizabeth was absorbed in the pages ofEvelinawhen a familiar knock drew her attention. Mrs. Hill entered with a curtsy. “Miss Lucas to see you.”
Charlotte came in briskly, her cheeks pink from the cold and countenance troubled despite her composed manner.
“Charlotte!” Jane rose with a welcoming smile. “Come warm yourself.”
“I will not stay long,” Charlotte said, drawing off her gloves, “but I thought I ought to tell you what has come to light.”
Elizabeth set aside her book. “You look as though you bring troubling news.”
“I do. It concerns Mr. Wickham.”
Jane laid her needlework down, frowning.
Charlotte continued, lowering her voice. “After our conversation the other day, I went to my father. He listened with gratitude and began making inquiries. Since then, he has heard a number of disturbing accounts. It seems Wickham has run up debts throughout Meryton—and at every shop imaginable. Nothing has been paid. Worse, there are whispers of impropriety with several shopkeepers’ daughters.”
Elizabeth’s stomach turned, though she could not claim surprise. After what Mr. Darcy had revealed, it was only to be expected that the reprobate would persist in his dissolute ways.
“Poor Miss King,” Jane whispered. “Do you think she knows?”
“I doubt it. My father has written to Mr. King, her uncle and guardian; he is in Liverpool at present. They have been acquainted these twenty years. He believes the man ought to know.” Charlotte straightened. “It is only right to protect young ladies from Wickham’s dreadful conduct. And Miss King does not deserve to have her life bound to such a man.”
