They arrived at the King’s Head and found Captain Darcy and a room he had ordered for them with hot tea and buttered toast to revive them after their journey. While the maid was fixing Miss Darcy’s hair, which had a tendency to escape its pins, the captain took Elizabeth to one side and pressed a purse into her hands. “If this is not enough, pray have word sent to me and I will come and find you.” He glanced over at his sister who was giggling with the maid as they both struggled to contain her hair. “Whatever she needs, Miss Elizabeth, and no expense spared. That coat cannot be warm enough, and surely she needs new boots and…” He smiled ruefully. “I am sure you know better than I what is needed, but please let me press upon you that this is one occasion where economy would be false indeed.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she peered into the purse. “I assure you, Captain Darcy, there is more than enough here to outfit your sister from top to toe.”
“And if she sees any books or music or…or…” He was obviously struggling now. “Paper and pencils for drawing, or anything to divert her during the day, please lay them in too.”
Elizabeth, greatly daring, placed a hand on his arm. “Do not worry. I will see she has all the most affectionate brother could wish.” He looked a little self-conscious at this and turned away to kiss his sister and wish her joy of the outing.
Luckily it had not come on to rain, as Elizabeth had half-suspected it would, and they bustled along the main street to the draper, Mr Stevenson, who could usually be relied upon to have some ready-made items in stock in addition to all the fabrics, ribbons, and other makings they would require.
Once he realised the nature and extent of the purchases they required, Mr Stevenson and his wife devoted themselves entirely to Miss Darcy, who appeared to be shyly enjoying the attention although it was some time before Elizabeth could induce her to express an opinion. They only managed to find a single dressfor day wear suitable for a young lady of Miss Darcy’s age and height, but it was very becoming, a cream-coloured muslin embroidered with little sprigs of violets. Where fabric was concerned, they were more fortunate and, despite Miss Darcy’s protests that they would not need half of their purchases, bought enough for three more day-dresses and two for evening.
Mr Hitchens, the mercer, produced cloth for a fine warm coat in a handsome, almost naval blue. The boot maker had shoes for indoor use and took the measurements for some half boots, undertaking to call at Netherfield for a final fitting.
Word got around the shopkeepers, and everywhere they went, they were met with eager attention. Stockings, bonnets, gloves, under things, and a fine, warm fur muff. They went back to the King’s Head for more tea and some hot soup before venturing out again.
“We will go to Mrs Cottam to have the fabric made up. She is slightly more expensive than Mrs Finch in Meryton, but having her nieces with her, she is in a larger way of business and we will get the dresses sooner. We can have the coat made in Meryton, which will ensure we do not cause too much ill feeling, for you can have no idea how easily people in small villages are offended, my dear.”
Miss Darcy nodded breathlessly as she trotted beside Elizabeth’s determined stride. “Oh, Miss Elizabeth,” she said. “Will you not let me pay for anything? I do have a little money, you know.” She was about to say something more when she realised they were passing the bookshop and stationers and stopped dead.
Recognising a fellow reader in the look of ardent curiosity, Elizabeth allowed herself to be persuaded to enter, and they did not come out again for quite half an hour, followed by the shop boy with another parcel for the King’s Head.
Mrs Cottam’s house was warm and a little stuffy, and by the time the measuring, fitting, and consulting of pattern books was quite finished, Elizabeth was tired and Miss Darcy was positively exhausted.
“So, shall we say Monday at Netherfield for the first fitting?” said Elizabeth. Mrs Cottam, enraptured by the arrival of so much hard cash, would probably have agreed to anything Elizabeth suggested.
Once in the cold afternoon air, Miss Darcy revived somewhat and did her best to express her gratitude for all that Elizabeth had done. In her anxiety that Elizabeth understand, she became quite animated, and this, with the colour whipped into her cheeks by the autumnal air, made such a pretty picture that Elizabeth could see how struck the captain was when they bustled into the room at the King’s Head. He smiled at Elizabeth as they both watched Georgiana run to thank him, only to stop short when she realised there was another gentleman present.
“Georgiana, Miss Bennet, you must allow me to introduce an old friend and shipmate. Lieutenant Grace, this is my sister Georgiana and her friend Miss Bennet.”
Lieutenant Grace was a weather-beaten gentleman, rather older than the captain, with a pleasant face and a somewhat old-fashioned way of dressing, the cuffs of his coat falling well over his hands. As they all sat once more, Elizabeth realised that he was missing some fingers from his left hand. “I had no idea Grace was living in Hatfield,” said the captain. “One loses touch with shipmates far too easily.”
“I only wish I had known earlier,” said the lieutenant in a deep Yorkshire burr. “Mrs Grace and I would have been so happy to have you to dinner.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “And talking of Mrs Grace, I had best be getting home; she will be wondering whatever has happened to me. Miss Darcy, Miss Bennet, your servant.”
The two men shook hands. “You have my direction now, sir. I shall expect to hear from you.”
“My hand on it, Grace, and my compliments to Mrs Grace.”
It was now quite late, and the roads would be dark, save for a half moon and the stars. After a brief, hot meal, they all, including the captain, climbed back into the carriage, and were wrapped in shawls, given hot bricks for their feet, and were then packed in clean straw, a process that reminded Elizabeth more than a little of storing apples for the winter.
Exhausted by the excitement, Georgiana soon fell asleep with her head on her brother’s arm. Tentatively, almost shyly, he put his arm about her and held her against his chest. He was sitting opposite Elizabeth, and the tenderness on his face as he drew the rugs about his sister’s shoulders was both affecting and curiously charming. He looked up and saw that Elizabeth had seen him and coloured. “I am beginning to wish I told the ostler not to bother with the lamp,” he whispered.
She smiled back at him. “Your secret is safe with me, Captain.” The coach rumbled on through the night, and the snores of the maid in the corner soon joined the noise of the wheels. They said nothing more until they were approaching Meryton, when Elizabeth saw him struggling to remove something from his coat pocket.
Eventually he managed to extricate a small box, which he passed over to her. “It is her birthday on Sunday. The jeweller assured me this was suitable. Was he right?”
She opened it to find a beautiful little pearl necklace. Elizabeth closed it and handed it back. “You could not have chosen better,” she whispered back and then had to smile at the contortions he had to perform to get the box back into its hiding place.
They were passing Longbourn now, and she turned her head to look out of the window. To her horror, the door was open,light spilling onto the carriage sweep, and a figure in black was descending from a gig.
“Oh, stop the coach, please, stop the coach!”
No sooner had the captain rapped on the roof and the carriage halted than she was out and running towards the house, not waiting for the step to be lowered or the groom to accompany her up the dark road. She lost her footing and almost fell, but righted herself and ran on.
She could see Mrs Hill start to close the door, but she called out and the housekeeper lifted the lamp to see who it was. “Miss Elizabeth?”
“Is it the doctor? Is it my father?” she called as she reached the front door.
A stranger turned in the hall; he was a tall, portly young man with an oddly shining face, dressed in clerical black with a shovel hat in his hand. “Have I the honour of addressing one of my young cousins?” he intoned, and as breathless and concerned as she was, Elizabeth heard the almost liturgical pomposity in his voice, and her heart sank.
