The three were the only Bennet sisters living in New York, and they had decided to spend the morning together to lift Elizabeth’s spirits. They had been talking for over an hour, the conversation moving easily from one thing to another. Their mother’s hip replacement and the recovery, which was,according to Mrs. Bennet, considerably more dramatic than the surgeon had suggested. Their father’s new podcast obsession. Mary’s announcement that she was moving to Portland, which no one had seen coming and everyone had immediately understood.
Lydia had refilled her coffee twice and was clearly done with every other topic before turning to Elizabeth’s love life.
"So," she said. "The ex. In your house. Talk."
"He is not —"
"Lizzie."
Elizabeth set down her mug.
"He is annoying," she said. "He fixes things without asking. He has opinions about where everything should be. He came back from a work trip some days ago and I came downstairs at two in the morning because I heard a noise and I thought someone had broken in."
"And?"
"It was Darcy. Making toast. Without a shirt on."
Lydia put down her coffee very carefully, with the focused attention of someone who needed both hands free for what came next.
"Without a shirt," she said.
"He had just got back. Said he was hungry."
"Did you take a photo?"
"Lydia," Jane said.
"What? I am asking a reasonable question."
"It is not a reasonable question."
"Jane. It is the hot Darcy. You have seen the man. Fine as anything, all that money, those cheekbones." She turned back to Elizabeth. "There are probably two thousand women on Google right now trying to find a shirtless photo of Fitzwilliam Darcy and you had the actual thing standing in your kitchen and you did not take a photo."
"I had a baseball bat in my hand."
"Multitasking exists, Lizzie."
"There was nothing to photograph. It was two in the morning. I was half asleep and I nearly took his head off with the bat because I thought he was an intruder. There is nothing remotely interesting about any of it."
Lydia looked at her. Long and steady.
"Last time he was shirtless with you," she said, "you talked about it for four days on the group chat."
Jane almost spilled her coffee as the kitchen went silent.
"That was eight years ago," Elizabeth said.
"The group chat still exists. I have screenshots."
"Lydia Bennet, if you pull out your phone right now —"
"You will what? Hit me with the baseball bat?"
Jane pressed her lips together. Elizabeth looked at her. Jane looked at the ceiling.
“There is nothing going on,” Elizabeth said. “It’s been over three weeks, and Darcy is exactly as annoying as I remember. Bland too.”
Lydia ate a crisp. Slowly.
