A voice. A manner. A conversation carried in the softened silence of the terrace.
Elizabeth closed the book gently and rested it upon her lap.
“Lizzy?”
Kitty stood just inside the doorway, her expression bright with interest.
“They have come,” she said.
Elizabeth smiled faintly. “The Lucases?” It was expected; the Lucas family always came the day after an assembly.
“Yes. And Mama is already engaged in the most animated account of the assembly.”
Elizabeth rose, reaching for her father’s walking stick where it leaned against the chair. “Then we must not keep them waiting for correction.”
Kitty laughed softly and moved aside to allow her passage.
The drawing room was full when Elizabeth entered. The familiar arrangement of voices greeted her first—her mother’s rising above the others, eager and expressive; Lady Lucas’s tones, measured but not without interest; and beneath them, the calmer presence of Charlotte.
Elizabeth paused just within the doorway, orienting herself before moving forward. The room was well lit, the morning sun softened by the curtains, and she could distinguish the nearer figures without difficulty.
“Miss Bennet,” Lady Lucas said, noticing her.
Elizabeth inclined her head. “Lady Lucas.”
“My dear Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, turning at once. “Come, you must sit here. We have been speaking of nothing but last night, and I declare it was the most remarkable evening.”
Elizabeth moved toward the indicated chair, her steps measured but unhurried. She felt Charlotte’s presence near before she saw her clearly, and her expression softened.
“Charlotte,” she said, as she took her seat.
“Lizzy,” Charlotte returned, her tone warm and steady. There was no fuss in her greeting. No undue attentiongiven to Elizabeth’s movements. Only an awareness that made everything easier.
At the far end of the room, Mrs. Hill stood holding a small boy by the hand.
“Master Michael,” she said smoothly, “I believe Master Thomas is upstairs.”
The youngest Lucas boy—no more than two years of age—looked uncertain for but a moment before being encouraged forward. Lydia, who had been perched restlessly near the window, sprang up at once.
“I shall take him,” she declared, already moving toward the door. “Thomas will be quite delighted to have company.” Kitty and Maria Lucas followed, offering assistance, and in another moment the small procession had disappeared upstairs, leaving the room to quieter company.
“It is good they are of an age, is it not?” Lady Lucas observed.
“Indeed,” Jane said from her place near the hearth. “Thomas has no other young boys in this house with whom he might play.”
“And a fine boy he is,” Lady Lucas returned. “You must be very proud.”
Jane smiled, her expression composed but touched with warmth. “I am.” She wasveryproud of her son and took delight in his company.
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, her attention returning at once to the matter she found most engaging. “And as for the evening,” she said, lowering her voice only slightly, “it was quite evident—quite evident, I assure you—that Mr. Bingley’s attentions were directed in the most particular manner.”
Lady Lucas’s brows lifted. “Indeed?” She spoke cooly, and Elizabeth could hear something bitter in her voice.
Her gaze remained fixed, yet she perceived Charlotte's focus intensify in her vicinity.
“My dear Lady Lucas,” Mrs. Bennet continued, “he danced with Mrs. Collins twice. Twice! And scarcely spoke to any other lady with the same degree of animation. My daughter pleases wherever she goes. She is most deserving of such admiration.”
Jane made a small sound, half protest, half embarrassment. “Mama—”
