“I cannot imagine why,” said Elizabeth.
“She fears it is too soon, that there will not be enough flowers. But we do not wish to wait any longer.” Jane’s tone held firm resolve. “There is no reason to.”
Mary nodded. “Your wedding day ought to be precisely what you and Mr. Bingley desire. Mr. Sanderson and I shall likely wed quickly too; there is no telling when his regiment will receive orders.”
Elizabeth was all-a-mort, caught by the image of another man—Darcy, upon one knee. Her name upon his lips, spoken with solemn intensity. His eyes, so intense, so full of restrained longing, lifted to hers as he asked the question that had hung between them for days.
She drew in a breath and pushed the thought aside.No sense dreaming. Best to be realistic.Best not to build dreams upon silence and glances.
The moment passed. With mutual smiles, the sisters gathered their things and went to their separate chambers to dress for breakfast, the morning light and warmth of the fire beginning to melt the frost-touched glass, and the jewel box gleaming like a promise.
After breakfast, the Bennet household dispersed to various corners, but Elizabeth felt too restless to remain indoors. Bundling herself in her warmest pelisse, she secured the Paisley shawl about her shoulders, its vivid pattern a welcome comfort against the encroaching chill. She tugged on her fur-lined gloves, tied the ribbons of her bonnet, and stepped outside. Though the morning sun had broken clear, a bank of clouds now drew across the sky, dimming the light. The air hung heavy, promising snowbefore long, and the ground crunched beneath her half boots with frost that had not yet lifted.
She had scarcely set foot upon the drive when Kitty and Lydia burst from the vestibule.
“We wish to walk with you!” Kitty declared, shrugging into her own wrap.
“Yes, as far as the lane. We want to visit the haberdasher’s,” Lydia added, her expression bright with anticipation. “Do you think it is too late to re-trim my sleeves for tomorrow’s celebration?”
Elizabeth smiled. “If you sew all day and all night, you might finish—if you enlist the maids to help and forgo tea.”
“I shall settle on new shoe roses and that blue ribbon Pratt gave me,” Lydia said with a dreamy sigh. “I cannot decide which officer I shall allow to fetch my punch cup first. They are all so charming.”
“I want a new fan,” Kitty chimed in. “A white one with painted blossoms.”
As her sisters skipped ahead, Elizabeth followed at a measured pace, the breeze teasing tendrils of hair from beneath her bonnet. Their laughter and chatter carried back to her, full of ribbons and admirers.
Her own gown, ready and waiting in her wardrobe, rose to her thoughts: cream muslin with a delicate blue sash and fine ribbon trimming the sleeves and hem. Modest yet elegant. And perfect with the sapphire hairpins. One of her shawls, perhaps the ivory with the embroidered border, would suit well. And mayhap she would wear the pearl necklace as well.
Would Lydia or anyone else remark upon it?She trusted not.
But even if they did, it would hardly matter—not after tomorrow. A private smile touched her lips. If all went well, there would be no more need for secrets.
At the fork in the lane, Kitty and Lydia turned toward Meryton, waving gaily.
“Do not let your cheeks freeze, Lizzy!” Lydia called with a grin.
“We shall be back before dinner!”
Elizabeth waved in return, then took the path toward Oakham Mount. It steepened, winding through bare trees whose branches clawed at the leaden sky. Her breath rose in small clouds, the cold stinging her nose and ears, but the steady climb warmed her limbs and cleared her mind.
By the time she reached the summit, color had risen in her cheeks and her pulse beat fast—not from exertion alone.
But the hilltop was still and silent.
No tall figure silhouetted against the sky. No trace of Darcy.
The wind caught at her shawl, and she pulled it close, struggling not to yield to disappointment.
She had dreamed—perhaps too much. Had she conjured what was not there?
No. He will come tomorrow.He must.
And still, she lingered, her gaze sweeping the horizon. The bare hills stretched into the distance, stark and cold beneath the January sky. She drew in a long breath and closed her eyes, gathering her thoughts as neatly as the shawl drawn close about her shoulders.
Tomorrow.It will all be clear tomorrow.
Then, with resolution, she turned and began the descent toward home, even as she held back tears of disappointment.
