Elizabeth tapped lightly, then opened the door. The room was dim, the heavy curtains pulled to block out the watery morning light. A fire crackled low in the grate, its warmth doing little to chase away the gloom that pressed around the chamber.
“Jane?” Elizabeth called gently as she closed the door behind her.
On the bed, Jane stirred, her fair hair spread across the pillow, cheeks pale and drawn with discomfort. “Lizzy,” she whispered, managing a faint smile despite the pained crease between her brows.
Elizabeth crossed to her side, taking her hand. “How do you fare, dearest?”
A soft groan escaped Jane’s lips. “It is agony, Lizzy. The megrims… they come occasionally, but never so harshly as this.” Her hand pressed lightly to her forehead. “I would rather be home to deal with it, in my own room, with my own things.”
Elizabeth’s heart twisted at the sight of her sister’s suffering. “I agree, Jane. You would be more comfortable at Longbourn. I need only learn the state of the roads before we can agree to depart.”
Jane nodded, squeezing her hand. “The roads were already drying this morning. Perhaps later today…” Her voice trailed off as a fresh wave of pain creased her features, and she closed her eyes, breathing through it.
“As long as we are home by tomorrow, Lizzy, I will be well enough.”
Elizabeth brushed a damp curl from Jane’s forehead. “Rest now, dearest. I will see what can be done.” She pressed a kiss to her sister’s temple before leaving quietly.
Closing the door behind her, Elizabeth walked back down the corridor, her mind turning with the details of arranging Jane’s return home. She turned a corner, pausing as voices drifted from the breakfast room, the door slightly ajar.
“…Miss Elizabeth showed up without invitation and was not even announced properly,” came Miss Bingley’s sharp, petulant tone. “And how did she even get here? Their carriage is in the carriage house.”
“She walked,” Bingley replied, his voice firm but tinged with annoyance.
There was a gasp from Mrs Hurst. “It is nearly three miles to Longbourn! She walked the whole way? In this weather? Surely, she is in no state to be seen.”
“She must look rather savage,” Miss Bingley scoffed, a cruel edge in her amusement. Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed as she listened, fingers tightening on her skirts. Then the lady’s voice turned falsely sweet, aimed like a dart. “You saw her, sir. Do you agree with our assessment?”
A pause.
“No,” came Mr Darcy’s cool, measured reply. “Miss Elizabeth looked quite well—perhaps a little blowsy, but her eyes were brightened by the exercise.” There was a softness in his tone Elizabeth had never heard before. “It shows a great deal of familial affection to journey across the fields after a storm to ensure herself of her sister’s wellbeing.”
Miss Bingley’s indignant huff filled the silence, and Elizabeth decided she had heard enough. She pushed the door open, stepping into the room with as much dignity as she could muster.
The ladies barely acknowledged her, their expressions stiff. Elizabeth turned her attention to Mr Bingley, her voice calm as she reported, “Jane wishes to return home to rest. She believes she will recover more comfortably there.”
Mr Bingley’s expression was one of gentle regret. “The roads are not yet dry enough, Miss Elizabeth, but by tomorrow they should be quite passable. I hope it is not too great an imposition for Miss Bennet to remain one more night. I would be honoured if you would remain as well.” His gaze softened. “It is the least I can do for the lady I am courting.”
Elizabeth’s composure softened, a warm flush touching her cheeks. “Thank you, Mr Bingley. You are very kind. I will remain, then, and write a note to Longbourn requesting a few of my things.”
She glanced over at Mr Darcy and found him watching her, his dark eyes warm, a look of something like quiet approval softening his usually stern countenance. Confusion churned in her chest, for had he not been avoiding her since their outing to the ruins? The sudden warmth she felt under his gaze was unwelcome and left her feeling flustered.
Lifting her chin, she turned away, her voice a touch sharp as she said, “If you will excuse me, I shall return to Jane.”
“Please join us for tea later,” Mr Bingley called gently.
Elizabeth paused, forcing herself to offer a small smile. “Of course, Mr Bingley.” With that, she slipped from the room, her heart pounding, her thoughts a tangled storm of confusion, warmth, and unspoken questions.
Darcy remained at the table after Elizabeth’s departure, his gaze still lingering on the doorway through which she had vanished, the echo of her soft footsteps settling into the quiet of the breakfast room. He was only vaguely aware of Caroline’s sharp intake of breath before her voice pierced the stillness.
“Well,” she drawled, lips curling with disdain, “I saw no evidence of Miss Elizabeth’s eyes being ‘brightened by the exercise,’ as you so graciously observed, Mr Darcy. Her hems were six inches deep in mud, if they were an inch, and she looked positively wild, with curls poking out from beneath that dreadful bonnet.”
Bingley, who was stirring his tea, paused to glance up, his expression one of mild disapproval. “I, for one, approve of her sisterly devotion,” he remarked, setting his spoon aside with deliberate calm.
Caroline’s head snapped towards him, her eyes narrowing. “What could you possibly mean by that remark, Charles? Surely you do not think it prudent for a young lady to tramp across the fields alone, looking as if she had been caught in a gale?” She raised a hand, dismissing his attempted reply. “You are forever too ready to overlook the impropriety of these country manners.”
She turned her attention to Darcy, a smile sliding into place, brittle and practised. “Mr Darcy, what are your plans for the day?”
Darcy’s gaze flicked from the window, where the grey sky pressed heavily against the glass, to Miss Bingley’s eager expression. “I shall write a few letters,” he replied vaguely, “particularly to my sister, Georgiana.”
