Miss Bingley came once with a vase of flowers and a tone of sympathy so elegant that it felt almost like a performance. Yet when Jane thanked her in a weak, grateful voice, even Miss Bingley’s expression softened a little. Elizabeth saw it and, against her will, gave the lady credit for possessing some portion of feeling beneath her polish.
By mid-afternoon, Jane had slept for nearly an hour and woken with renewed distress.
“Lizzy,” she whispered when Elizabeth bent near, “you should go home before it grows late.”
“I shall not leave you until you are more comfortable.”
“You must. Mama will be anxious, and I am already too much trouble. If I am to remain here, it is better that you return and tell them all is well.”
Elizabeth hesitated. She did need to send word home, and she had no change of clothes, no proper night things, nothing beyond the gown in which she had walked across the fields. Yet the moment she withdrew her hand, Jane’s eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, my dear,” Elizabeth murmured, sitting again at once. “Do not cry.”
“I am being foolish.” Jane turned her face away, but the tears slipped free regardless. “I only feel so wretched, and everything is strange, and I do not want to be left.”
Elizabeth’s heart gave way entirely. “Then you shall not be left.”
Miss Bingley, who had come in with Mrs. Hurst to ask whether Miss Bennet would take tea, stopped just inside the door. For once, she seemed to have no immediate remark prepared. Jane, in tears, looked so gentle and unhappy that even the proudest heart in Hertfordshire could scarcely remain unmoved.
Miss Bingley drew a breath. “Miss Elizabeth, if you wish to remain with your sister, you are welcome to do so.”
Elizabeth looked up in surprise.
“It would be no inconvenience,” Miss Bingley continued, with slightly more composure. “Indeed, Miss Bennet may rest easier with you near her.”
Jane closed her eyes in visible relief.
Elizabeth’s gratitude, though reluctant in origin, was sincere. “Thank you. That is very kind. If I may send word to Longbourn, a small trunk may be brought with what Jane and I require.”
“Certainly.” Miss Bingley glanced toward the door. “Mrs. Nicholls can arrange it.”
Mrs. Nicholls did more than arrange it. A note was sent to Longbourn and within the hour, Susie was shown up to Jane’s chamber, cheeks flushed from curiosity and the briskness of being summoned in a great house.
“Miss Lizzy,” she said as soon as they were alone for a moment, “I saw Mr. Bates below-stairs.”
“And he is…?”
“Mr. Darcy’s valet. He is from Lambton. I knew him years ago, though he was older than I and already in service. My aunt thought very well of him.” Susie busied herself unnecessarily with folding a towel. “He looks much changed.”
Elizabeth’s brows rose. “Changed?”
“Older, of course.”
“Dreadful fate.”
“And taller.”
“Alarming.”
“And…” Susie’s color deepened. “Very well-looking.”
Elizabeth, despite Jane’s illness and the strangeness of the day, could not help smiling. “Ah. That sort of change.”
Susie gave her a reproachful look. “Miss Lizzy.”
“I said nothing.”
“You were thinking a great deal.”
