Elizabeth dabbed her lips with a napkin, holding it to her mouth until her smile was gone before translating. “He said it is taking a while to get used to eating solid food again.”
“I should stick to liquids, Darcy,” Hurst suggested, raising his glass. “Far better for the constitution.”
“Whatdidyou eat, Lizzy?” Georgiana enquired.
“Mostly bread, cheese, and cured meats. There was a little fruit at the beginning, but that soon ran out. There was a veritable cornucopia of onions and potatoes in the cellar, though. If I never eat another of either, it will not be too soon.”
Darcy was diverted to note that she had, indeed, eschewed dishing any potatoes onto her plate and had picked all the onions out of the ragout.
“I thought you said you could not eat solids, Darcy,” Bingley said, frowning.
To which he, running short of patience, replied, “Georgiana asked what Elizabeth ate, not I. I dined on brandy, broth, and thin air for the most part.”
“Brandy and what?”
“Broth,” Elizabeth summarised. “Which, by the end of the week, I had perfected to a finely tuned balance of salty water and boiled onions. Your cook would be in awe, Miss Bingley.”
“Youcooked his meals?” Bingley said admiringly.
When Elizabeth acknowledged this was true, Miss Bingley, less admiringly, enquired, “How on earth do you know how to cook, Miss Eliza?”
“Yes, Lizzy,” said her sister. “Howdoyou know how to cook?”
“I am not sure Mr Darcy would agree that I can, but there was a soldier at the inn who had some knowledge of campfire cooking. From him, I learnt the general principle that boiling things in water will flavour it. That is as far as my abilities extend, I am afraid.”
“Boiling things in water also adds moisture,” Darcy mouthed. “I daresay you could teach Bingley’s cook a thing or two.”
“What was that, Darcy?”
Observably struggling to keep her countenance, Elizabeth sent him a look of half-laughing admonishment that begged him to desist. “At least I shall not be called upon to cook at Pemberley. I understand from Miss Darcy the cook there is wonderful.”
“He is,” Hurst agreed. “The very best.”
“I tried to poach him once,” Bingley said with a grin. “Do you remember, Darcy?”
Darcy nodded.
“Charles!” Jane exclaimed. “How ungallant!”
“Pish posh, Jane—you would have thanked me had I succeeded. He makes the best bread pudding this side of East Riding. And in any case, I never would have attempted it had Darcy not poached my footman the week before.”
Darcy regarded him incredulously. “You let him go because you forgot you had a lock fitted and thought he had barred you from your own house. I gave him work at your behest because you felt guilty.”
“What is he saying, Lizzy?” Bingley enquired. “You must not believe half of what he says, you know. He is a good deal too apt to be overly serious about these things.”
“I might have believed that a month ago,” Elizabeth replied, looking between them with delight. “But you will no longer convince me of any such thing.”
“I think it is time we ladies withdrew,” Miss Bingley announced curtly. “Cambridge, clear the table please.”
“What say we forego separating this evening, Caroline?” said Bingley. “There seems little point in subjecting Darcy to half an hour of being asked to repeat himself, for none of us can understand him without Lizzy to translate.”
“I am not at all sure we have understood himwithLizzy’s help,” Mr Gardiner said. “I do believe she has been making it up as she has gone along.”
“Uncle! How could you say such a thing?” Elizabeth replied with affected affront.
Nonetheless, it was decided that the gentlemen and the ladies would adjourn together. As they left the room, Darcy caught hold of Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her away from the rest of the party. There were no candles lit in the alcove to which he led her, and he was forced to whisper rather than mouth what he wished to say.
“I love you, Elizabeth.”
