Elizabeth related Suzanne’s proposal, together with her father’s deferral of the decision. Mrs Bennet’s cheeks flushed in pleasure. “Oh, that is very good of your father to think of my comfort. I have no objection to receivingyour guests while Mr Collins is here. Indeed, the additional company might prove a blessing should the gentleman become more than I can manage.”
“Thank you, Mama!” Elizabeth pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “I shall write at once. May I name the first of November for their arrival?”
“Aye, that will do very nicely. Oh, there is so much to be done. I must have the chambers prepared—an earl and the dowager countess—inmyhouse! What an honour it will be.”
Elizabeth watched her mother bustle away. It astonished her still, this new change in her parents—the new harmony at Longbourn. Instead of reacting with agitation and calling for her salts, Mrs Bennet now received such news with more confidence, her pleasure moderated by sense rather than frenzy.It is wondrous what a measure of affection and attention can accomplish,she mused.
A glance towards the casement showed the sun well past its height. She had promised Elinor a walk hours earlier. Chiding herself for losing all notion of time, Elizabeth ascended the stairs quickly to the nursery to collect her child.
Miss Lane met her at the threshold, hands twisting in dismay. Elizabeth had never seen the lady so discomposed. “Miss Lane? What is amiss?”
“Miss Fiennes is gone, madam,.” The admission was but a whisper. “I am most dreadfully sorry. She has been asking after you since morning, and she slipped away whilst I was putting her books aside.”
Elizabeth’s heart tightened. “Where have you searched?”
“The house and the gardens nearest the house. The maids and I were preparing to extend our search.”
“See that they are properly directed. I shall look without.”
Elizabeth was certain her daughter’s impatience had prompted the escape.How like Jane she is in every gentle quality but this.Elinor adored theoutdoors; though docile in all else, the promise of a walk was temptation enough to venture out alone.
Elizabeth drew on a cloak and walking boots and went straight to the wilderness path she and Elinor most often took. As she crossed the lawn, she saw the gate standing open, a sure sign of her daughter’s route. Picking up her pace, she hurried forwards, hoping to find the child within its walls. The second gate, too, hung ajar, confirming that she had quitted the grounds altogether.
Dread gathered within her.How could she have gone so far? She is so small—how will she know her way if she grows weary?
For ten anxious minutes Elizabeth searched, scanning each hedge row, each shadowed bend in the path, watching for the flicker of blue that marked her little girl’s frock. Oakham Mount rose before her, and still no trace appeared. Her breath came short; her heart pounded; tears stung her eyes. She was becoming wrought with panic.
A horse’s whinny sounded close by. Elizabeth turned sharply. From the rise ahead, Mr Darcy approached, astride his great black beast, Elinor nestled safely in his arms.
Gasping a sob, Elizabeth stumbled forwards. At the sound, Elinor lifted her head, and recognising her mother, smiled in sleepy delight. She looked tired but well.
Mr Darcy drew rein, and Elizabeth reached up to receive her daughter. Elinor came readily, nestling close, her chilled fingers pressing against her mother’s neck. Elizabeth stifled a shiver and kissed the child’s temple.
“I rode a horse, Mama,” The words came drowsily, half muffled against her shoulder. “Did you see?”
Elizabeth’s laugh broke through the remnants of her fright. “Yes, dearest, I saw.” She turned towards Mr Darcy. “I thank you, sir, for your assistance. Elinor slipped away when I failed to appear for our walk.”
At the sound of her name, Elinor stirred. Her hair was tumbled, and Elizabeth brushed it smooth before kissing her cheek. “You did not come, Mama. I waited and waited.”
“I was late,” Elizabeth admitted softly, “and I am sorry. But you know you must not wander off by yourself—least of all beyond the garden.” She drew in a steadying breath, mindful of their company and unwilling to indulge her alarm before him.
Elinor’s arms tightened round her mother’s neck. “I am sorry.”
Mr Darcy stepped nearer, reins looped loosely over his arm. “May I escort you back to Longbourn?” he asked.
Too spent to refuse, Elizabeth agreed. He walked beside her, leading his horse. For some moments, neither spoke. “I was pleased to make Miss Fiennes’s acquaintance.”
“Where did you find her?” Elizabeth glanced down; Elinor’s breathing had evened—she was asleep.
“Half-way up the hill. She was seated on a rock, her dress soiled and cheeks streaked with dust, as though she had stumbled a few times. The poor imp looked exhausted. I dismounted and asked her name. She told me, quite proudly, that she wasMiss Fiennes of Longbournand was on an adventure.”
Elizabeth gave a soft laugh. “Aye, that is what we call our little outings. She adores them, and the promise of one is the only thing that ever robs her of patience.”
Mr Darcy looked thoughtful. “Shall I carry her for you?”
She declined, politely. “I am quite equal to it, I assure you. I have carried her a greater distance before. But I thank you for offering.”
He inclined his head and fell silent. The quiet between them unsettled her; silence had always been dangerous in Fiennes’s company.He is not Fiennes.Still, she grasped at the first topic that came.
