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She could see that they understood from the single word that Miss Bingley was causing a good deal of the upset. “You may leave your coats and hats here.” She waved at the little alcove where the coats were stored, and the gentlemen were too polite to object.

“My aunt and sister will be down directly,” she informed them when they returned. “In the meanwhile, Mr. Bingley, please allow me to take you to your sister. Mr. Darcy, we shall have to leave you in the drawing room along our way.”

Mr. Bingley’s concern eased at the calm amusement in her tone. Mr. Darcy’s mouth moved, although whatever response he might have made was quickly suppressed.

Elizabeth led the way, saw Mr. Darcy settled, and promised that he would not be left alone for long.

Then the handbell rang. After only a few days of this, she would think very carefully about how often she rang for a servant at Longbourn. Mrs. Hill deserved three times what she was paid. More.

“I had better go,” she said. “Perhaps you ought to wait here with Mr. Darcy a moment, Mr. Bingley.”

“Of course,” he said.

When Elizabeth entered, Miss Bingley had rolled over on her side. “Is Charles here?”

“He is.”

“He is early,” she complained.

“By perhaps ten minutes.”

“I am not prepared.”

Elizabeth considered the woman. “What preparation do you require?”

“My cap.”

She located the cap and helped Miss Bingley put it on.

The woman lifted one hand and touched it. “The ribbons are crooked.”

Elizabeth straightened them, and Miss Bingley eased herself back down upon her stomach.

“The coverlet, now.”

The coverlet was smoothed.

Miss Bingley examined as much of the room as she could without turning her head. “I suppose it must do.”

Elizabeth walked back to inform Mr. Bingley that his sister was prepared to receive him.

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a bow. “She will be pleased to see me, for I have a letter from Louisa.” And then he was gone.

Elizabeth was not at all sure that the letter would bear good tidings. If Mrs. Hurst meant to visit her sister, she would have accompanied Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley was certain to be unhappy this evening—another reason not to allow Jane to take on her care.

When she turned away from where Mr. Bingley had disappeared, Mr. Darcy was standing near the fire. His attention dropped to the mending basket Elizabeth had abandoned upon the chair, then to her sleeve.

She followed his gaze. A grey streak marked the muslin near her wrist, no doubt acquired when she had picked up the poker to move Miss Bingley’s coals.

“We are not always so disordered,” she said.

“I had not thought you were.”

“No?”

“No. I merely thought you occupied.”

She had seen that stare from him before, at Netherfield, when she came in from the fields with six inches of mud upon her petticoat. Mr. Darcy had not approved of her any more than Miss Bingley had.