Teacups clinked. Lydia laughed too loudly at something Kitty had not quite finished saying. Mama was explaining—at length—why Netherfield china was superior in weight and finish to anything that could reasonably be expected in a country neighbourhood, and Jane was smiling in the manner of one who had learned that resistance only prolonged the discussion.
Charlotte had been listening for some time before she spoke. She set her cup down carefully, as though concluding an internal reckoning, and looked from Jane to Elizabeth with a small, deliberate smile. “Well,” she said, “Netherfield, then.”
Jane laughed softly—not quite in amusement, not quite in embarrassment. “It was… very pleasant. Everyone was exceedingly attentive.”
Elizabeth tilted her head. “That is one way of putting it.”
Charlotte’s brows rose. “I take it there is another?”
Jane glanced at her sister, colour touching her cheeks. “They were kind,” she said again, more firmly this time. “And generous. I do not wish it to sound as though we were imposed upon.”
“No one thinks that,” Charlotte said, mild but keen. “One only wonders what sort of impressions were made.”
Elizabeth lifted her cup. “I made mine horizontally, in a field.”
Charlotte laughed. “I had heard your visit was eventful,” she said. “I did not realise it involved geography.”
Elizabeth sipped her tea. “I assure you, the ground was very determined.”
Jane shook her head. “Lizzy—”
“Oh, do not look so concerned,” Elizabeth said lightly. “I survived it, so I shall laugh about it. I should hate to be remembered as the Bennet sister undone by a mole hill.”
Charlotte’s mouth curved. “You always did have a talent for finding yourself in unusual situations.”
“Or for unusual situations finding me,” Elizabeth returned. “I cannot decide which is more troublesome.”
Charlotte nodded, as though conceding the point. “If it is any comfort, the account circulating in Meryton is far less dramatic.”
Elizabeth glanced at her. “Circulating?”
“Only mildly,” Charlotte said. “Meryton has not spoken of anything else for a fortnight. Half the town is convinced you were struck down by a tragic constitution. The other half insists it was romance.”
Lydia leaned forward at once. “It was Mr Darcy, wasn’t it? There, I told you, Kitty. She had to make up for the Assembly.”
Elizabeth reached calmly for her tea. “I just… fell. Or something. It had nothing to do with Mr Darcy.”
Charlotte’s gaze flicked, briefly and almost absently, to Elizabeth’s lap.
“You’re guarding that hand again,” she said. “Does it still ache?”
Jane looked down at once. “Lizzy, does it?”
Elizabeth glanced at the pillow over her wrist, then smiled. “Only when it wishes to be noticed.”
Charlotte huffed a quiet laugh. “That is not an answer.”
“It is the truest one I have,” Elizabeth said. “It has been perfectly well behaved all morning.”
Jane relaxed. “I told you it would be well healed by now.”
Charlotte tipped her head, studying her friend with the same practical calm she always employed. “It looked worse when I saw it last—quite the festering bother, as I recall. I only wondered.”
“As did everyone,” Elizabeth said. “I was quite the object of medical enthusiasm. No, Charlotte, it is quite healed now.”
Charlotte accepted that, lifting her cup again. “Then I am satisfied.”
Mama broke in, bright with conviction. “And very right you are, Charlotte—very right indeed. Nothing could have been better for Elizabeth than a few days at Netherfield. Such air! Such company! I always say that a change of scene does wonders, especially when there are agreeable young gentlemen involved.”
