Page 63 of Fortuitous Encounters

“Do you still not wish to play cards,” Hurst asked, unable to hold more than one thought at a time.

“No, I shall not be down all that long. I need to look in on Jane and would not wish to disturb your game when I leave,” she replied.

Darcy suspected she did not want to spend her time with the disagreeable sisters. She could avoid the game, but he was stuck for at least a few more hands—though he considered making a few terrible bets sufficient to empty his table stakes so he could quit.

Hurst called attention back to the game, and Elizabeth continued with a book she found on the table. A quick look at the bookplate showed it was Mr Darcy’s. It was a recently published volume, and she appreciated the fact that she could enjoy its contents, and he did not make a fuss over it. When she glanced up at him, she could see he looked at her examination of the bookplate approvingly, and with a nod she sat down to read.

The Bingley sisters were at a loss for words, which Elizabeth took as a good sign. She was under no illusions it would last, but she would enjoy it while it did.

A half-hour later, she said, “I thank you for your company, but I must look in on Jane, and I shall retire afterward.”

“Feel free to take the book,” Mr Bingley said, not noticing it was not his to lend, but Mr Darcy verified his complaisance with a smile and a nod.

He really was the most accommodating man.

The Ideal Chaperone

Morning found Jane less feverish, though not quite ready to face the breakfast room, at least not as early as Elizabeth. She was not especially hungry and planned to either call for a tray later, or join the Bingleys when they arose at the crack of noon.

Elizabeth left her to her slumber and was happy to share breakfast with Mr Darcy alone. While she liked Mr Bingley well enough, she could do without interacting with his sisters ever again. She even wondered if the amiability of the brother was worth it given the disagreeability of the sisters—but then again, that was Jane’s problem.

After exchanging greetings, discussing Jane’s condition, and taking up their plates, Darcy asked, “Would you care for a ramble after breakfast?”

“I would enjoy that above all things.”

“I have a surprise for you,” he replied, then refused so steadfastly to elaborate that he began to sound a bit like a less cynical version of her father. “Shall we meet in a quarter-hour at the front door?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

~

As Elizabeth slipped into her pelisse, Darcy appeared and said, “Here is our chaperone,” with a big smile and moved aside.

“Flora!” Elizabeth exclaimed excitedly with a huge smile, having entirely forgotten Mrs Redgrave’s promise to bring the child for a visit. “We shall be very happy to have you as our devoted companion, if you are up to the onerous chore.”

Flora grinned from ear to ear, and five minutes later, the three were happily traipsing through the garden with Elizabeth on one arm and Flora on the other. She had offered to follow behind like a proper chaperone, but her companions were having none of it.

“Tell me about your family, Miss Flora,” Darcy asked after a few minutes of pleasantries.

Flora seemed up to the task, so for the next half-hour the three engaged in an energetic discussion of all that went on in Meryton. Flora was a young and curious girl, well connected to the servant and trade classes in the town, and aware of all the local happenings. Elizabeth, of course, shared a house with the biggest gossip in Meryton, and it would have been impossible for her to be unaware of the happenings in the local gentry.

After a mile circle around the gardens, Darcy felt like he knew more about the area than he did about Pemberley. He also took the time on a second, shorter circuit to tell his friends about his closest family members--his sister and cousin.

He asked rather impertinently, “Miss Elizabeth, what does your mother think of our two sets at the assembly?”

Flora was about to burst. “Oh, it is the funniest thing—she does not know!”

“How is that possible?” Darcy asked in perplexity.

“I suspect we can blame or credit Mr Bingley and Jane, who seem to have captured all the gossips’ attention,” Elizabeth said with a sneaky grin.

“Or maybe you were clever enough to dance in the far corner where the matrons would not notice a bonfire.”

“Also possible, Flora,” Elizabeth laughed. “It does seem odd. Our ruse worked better than my wildest dreams. Nobody knows if you are fish or fowl, steward or duke—and for some reason, most simply ignore the question rather than pick it over like they do everything else. I cannot explain it. Perhaps, it is all a matter of first impressions, and since most people form their ideas in the first minute and rarely change them, we just managed your introduction correctly.”

“For my part, I find your intervention brilliant. I am enjoying being anonymous, for the first time in my life.”

Elizabeth gave him an impish grin. “I credit your valet more than me. After all, he adapted to the Flora aesthetic rather quickly.”