“Oh! Yes, well,” Elizabeth set down her cup, pressing her palms briefly to her skirts to still her nerves. “There is the bookseller. It is my favourite shop. He has a section for lending—there are even sheets of music available. There is a local artisan shop, too, where villagers sell their wares. I often find unique treasures there. There is a widow near Meryton who makes her own perfumes and scented waters. Her scents are the best I have ever used.”
“Then you have not frequented London shops,” Miss Bingley interjected sharply, her tone heavy with derision as she examined her reflection in the silver teapot, adjusting a stray curl.
Mr Darcy ignored the snipe, his lips curving in a faint, genuine smile. “I shall be sure to visit when next I ride into Meryton.”
Elizabeth felt warmth bloom in her cheeks, quickly ducking her head as she busied herself with a piece of buttered toast, her appetite suddenly returning. She was aware of Darcy’s gaze lingering upon her, steady and unreadable, as Miss Bingley huffed softly into her teacup.
Outside, the morning sun had begun to pierce the clouds, glinting off the silverware and catching in the steam rising from the tea, whilst inside, the room brimmed with quiet tension and small, telling moments that leftElizabeth wondering, not for the first time, just what Mr Darcy saw when he looked at her.
The ride back to Longbourn reignited Jane’s headache. By the time she was tucked into bed, she whimpered quietly in pain. Elizabeth placed a cool cloth on her forehead and stroked her sister’s hair back, her eyes soft with concern. “Try to rest, dearest,” she soothed, adjusting the curtains to keep the morning light from falling across Jane’s eyes.
Mrs Hill soon arrived with a cup of steaming chamomile tea, the gentle floral scent wafting into the air. Jane accepted it with trembling hands, taking small sips.
“Enough fussing, Lizzy,” Jane murmured with a weak smile. “I shall drink the tea and go to sleep. There is no need for you to remain by my side.”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth pressed a kiss to her sister’s forehead before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind her. She paused in the hallway, pressing her hand to her chest, the worry for Jane making her heart ache. With a sigh, she turned and went directly to the nursery to look in on Tommy.
Inside, the soft glow of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall windows, lighting up the warm, cosy room. Tommy sat at a small table with Miss Lane, a stack of papers before them. The governess pointed to a word, named it, and then asked the boy to repeat it, her voice patient and kind. A stack of books sat beside her, waiting for Tommy to read them aloud.
At the sound of the door, Tommy’s head snapped up, his eyes lighting, and his face split into a wide grin. “Lizzy!” he cried, springing to his feet and racing across the room. He threw his small arms around her legs, burying his face in her skirts.
Elizabeth laughed softly, hugging him back. “I missed you, too, my darling.” She smoothed his hair back and knelt to look him in the eye. “Jane was ill and had to stay at Netherfield,” she reminded him gently. “I am here now, though, and we can play. That is, if Miss Lane is finished with your lesson.”
Tommy turned pleading eyes to the governess, who chuckled and nodded, dismissing him with a kind pat on the shoulder. Letting out a whoop of joy, Tommy ran to the shelf containing his toys and began pulling out the basket of wooden blocks, his excitement making his small hands clumsy.
“I want to build a castle!” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushed pink. “Papa read me a book about a castle.”
“Oh? What book was that?” Elizabeth settled onto the floor, smoothing her skirts so they would not wrinkle, and folding her legs beneath her comfortably.
Tommy screwed up his face, sticking out his tongue a little as he tried to remember. “A Tour through… I forget.”
“A Tour through the Island of Great Britain,” Elizabeth supplied, raising her brows. “By Daniel Defoe. Goodness, you are young for such heavy reading.” She ruffled his curls, making him giggle.
Tommy’s face lit up. “He also read one with pictures!”
Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled with fondness. “Was it by chance,The Antiquities of England and Wales?” She could almost see the weighty volume from her father’s library in her mind, its engraved illustrations of towers and ruins that had fascinated her as a child.
Tommy’s grin grew impossibly wider, and he nodded enthusiastically. “I want to build a castle like the ones in the books!”
Elizabeth helped him arrange the blocks, asking him questions about the walls and turrets as they worked. Together, they built sturdy towers with arched gateways, adding small toy horses to the courtyard.
A few minutes later, Lydia and Kitty swept in with youthful energy, bringing small treasures to add to the castle. Kitty contributed a carved wooden cup, placing it solemnly in the courtyard and announcing, “It is the village well, of course.” Lydia, with a dramatic flourish, draped a blue shawl around the base and added a tiny wooden boat, declaring, “Behold the moat!” as she danced back to admire her work.
Tommy clapped with delight, his eyes sparkling as the “castle” came alive with the additions. “It is perfect!” he declared, moving the horses and wooden soldiers around the courtyard as he created stories of knights and dragons with the castle they had built.
Elizabeth felt a warmth fill her chest, a soft ache of love for her family and the simple joys they could still find even in times of uncertainty.
After a time, Elizabeth rose, brushing off her skirts and pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead. “I must go now, darling, but we shall play again later.”
Tommy beamed up at her, hugging her around the waist once more before returning to his castle with all the serious concentration of a young general planning his defences.
Elizabeth paused in the doorway to watch her siblings for a moment longer before quietly leaving to check on Jane. A quick glance into her sister’s chamber revealed that Jane was at last resting, her breathing slow and even, the empty teacup on the table beside her bed.
Satisfied, Elizabeth made her way downstairs, where she found Mrs Hill in the kitchen, discussing the coming days’ menus with the cook. Elizabeth joined them, offering suggestions for simple, nourishing dishesthat would be easy for Jane to manage as she recovered, whilst also ensuring the younger girls would have enough to keep them content.
With her tasks complete, Elizabeth finally returned to her own chamber, a soft smile on her face despite the day’s concerns. For a brief moment, as she watched the rain clouds breaking outside the window, she allowed herself to hope that perhaps everything would indeed be well.
Bingley was beside himself. “We let her go, and she was clearly not well.” It had been two days since the Bennet sisters departed, and still he was agitated. “I should have insisted—”
