She tried to answer.
Truly she did.
But the question, the concern in his voice, the solemnity of the moment—all of it pressed upon her at once, until the laugh broke free again, sharper now, edged with something almost wild.
Now all eyes were on her.
Her husband placed an arm around her shoulders, and she could tell that his concern had only deepened.
And that, inexplicably, only made things worse.
“Can you imagine,” she continued, her voice catching between laughter and breath, “Mary’s face—when she discovers that her husband shall not inherit Longbourn after all?”
The image struck her afresh.
And she dissolved entirely.
Darcy looked thoroughly alarmed.
Elizabeth saw it.
And laughed harder still.
“Elizabeth.” He tried to calm her. “Perhaps a glass of wine? Or…”
He looked around helplessly. Across the room, Mr. Bennet gave a low chuckle.
“Do not distress yourself so, Darcy,” he said, with a glance at his son-in-law. “You will find that women are prone to a touch of hysteria once married. Consider Mrs. Bennet.”
Darcy’s expression was one of pure horror.
Elizabeth caught sight of it, and then lost all her composure entirely.
“Shall—shall I ring for—Hill to—to bring me Mama’s—smelling salts?” she gasped out.
Mr. Bennet shook his head and rose to his feet. He crossed the room and clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “My dear boy, I am only teasing you,” he said mildly. “This is a perfectly natural response. On those rare occasions when a woman is overcome by both physical and emotional fatigue, such an outburst is to be expected.”
Darcy blinked.
“I see,” he said, though he very clearly did not.
“As something of an expert,” Mr. Bennet continued, with a trace of dry humor, “having raised five daughters, I have found that the best remedy is sleep. A great deal of it. One does far better to address such matters in the morning, when the mind has had time to put things in order.”
Darcy frowned slightly. “I had always understood that one ought never to go to bed distraught, but that it was best to sort things out.”
Mr. Bennet waved a hand. “Nonsense. In my experience, cooler heads prevail after a night’s rest. The mind continues its work, even when we do not attend to it directly.”
Elizabeth managed, at last, to draw in a steadying breath.
“I believe,” she said through hiccupping gasps, though her voice had begun to settle, “that I must agree.”
She looked toward Lady Catherine, who, though recovered, did not appear inclined for further exertion.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth added, “we should return to Netherfield.”
Frederick straightened. “It has been a long day for us,” he said, nodding towards Teddy, who was half-asleep in the corner. “I have arranged a room for us at the inn in Meryton; we will return their directly.”
Mr. Bennet shook his head at once. “Nonsense. Longbourn is as much your home as mine—more so, perhaps, given that the young man there is now its heir.”
