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“Why do you keep a dog so disobedient?” she asked.

Mr. Long smiled. “I do not like the water either, so I cannot blame him. Besides, my sisters adore him, so what am I to do? Shall I take away their walking companion?”

“Certainly not,” said Kitty with a small laugh. “If your sisters are like mine, they would never forgive you for it.”

Across the table, catching the tail end of the exchange, Mrs. Ellington offered a dry, amused smile from her seat. “Indeed, Mr. Long,” she interposed with a gentle clarity that drew several eyes, “we ought to be cautious before we condemn a creature for a sensible aversion to cold water. A creature that prefers dry land to a muddy bog shows more judgement than many a person.”

A murmur of polite laughter rippled around the table at the subtle barb, and Mr. Long chuckled good-naturedly, dipping his head in acknowledgment.

At this, Elizabeth, who sat across the table, had to join in. “I have long wished that our father liked to hunt, for we have no dogs with which I might walk. I have to settle for bothering my sisters when I wish for a companion.”

“I am certain,” said Kitty, “that none of us has ever objected to your company, Lizzy, unless it happened to be raining, or we were otherwise employed. Besides, you often wish for only your own company while walking.”

“That is true,” Elizabeth agreed. “But perhaps I might wish for company that would not mind walking no matter when I request it. Mayhap I will see about getting a hound.”

“If it pleases you, Miss Elizabeth,” replied Mr. Lucas, “you may take any of my hounds out walking whenever you please. The stable hands walk them twice a day, but I am certain they would not mind giving up their chore to you.”

“I think I shall quite like having brothers,” Elizabeth announced with a laugh. “And as you are to be my brother, you must stop calling me Miss Elizabeth, for I am Lizzy.”

David, for his part, received this with pleasure. “Then I shall do so, Lizzy, if you will promise to call me David always, as all of my sisters do.” He turned then to Kitty and requested the same informality, which she returned with ease.

The conversation continued in such a manner for a short awhile, until as each of the courses passed by, each of Elizabeth’s sisters found herself drawn into some private exchange with their beaux. Mr. Field, who sat to Elizabeth’s left, played the part of a pleasant dinner companion very well, ensuring she was never left deprived of conversation or anything she desired from the table.

Thus supplied with all the necessaries of the meal, she found little occasion to exert herself in conversation, which suited her very well. She did not feel her usual self, and had the strange thought that she did not quite have words for what she was feeling. She was not envious of her sisters. She wished them every happiness and was delighted that they had found such amiable partners. Indeed, Elizabeth could not call the sensation envy, nor disappointment, and certainly not regret. Still, there was a curious sensation of being adrift, separated from all those present at the table.

The cause eluded her entirely, until Mr. Bingley, leaning toward Jane, said, “Indeed, I wrote to Darcy and invited him, his sister, and her companion to join me at Netherfield. I hope that they shall accept, for Mrs. Annesley, that is Miss Darcy’s companion, might then act as my hostess and I may have company.”

At the name, a sudden, awkward tension rushed through Elizabeth. The mere mention of him—of his severe countenance, their heated dispute over Wickham, and the startling intimacy with which he had presumed to call her by her given name—sent a fluttering disquiet through her chest.

“Will Mr. Darcy stand up with you?” asked Mrs. Long.

“I hope that he will,” said Mr. Bingley.

Mrs. Ellington’s voice cut through the noise at the table. “Then I, for one, shall be quite delighted to see him again. There are not many people I liked so well, though perhaps I am somewhat biassed in his favour since he often keeps me company at events when he does not wish to dance.”

Others agreed with Mrs. Ellington’s assessment of Mr. Darcy’s character, although Mrs. Long still could not like him. The slight at the Meryton assembly still stung, especially when he went to such lengths to please the Bennets.

Elizabeth said nothing, focusing her attention instead on her food. The soup, although good, was not so delicious as she pretended as she remembered the many hours she had spent reliving her last conversation with Mr. Darcy, wishing it might have gone very differently. Now, even in his absence, she heard him praised by her friends and neighbours. It was enough to entirely undo her composure.

“Are you quite well, Miss Elizabeth?” asked Mr. Field.

Elizabeth looked up quickly, schooling her features into a mask of polite serenity as she met Mr. Field’s attentive gaze.

“Quite well, I thank you, Mr. Field,” she replied, her voice steady despite the tempest within her. “The room is merely a trifle warm, as these gatherings are wont to be when the company is in such high spirits.”

“The room is warm, to be sure,” Mr. Field replied mildly, a knowing hint of a smile touching the corners of his mouth. “Yet I have known you since you were six years old, Miss Elizabeth, and I have never yet seen the heat of a room bring quite that particular colour to your countenance. If the air of Lucas Lodge has suddenly become oppressive, I can only suppose it is the conversation that has overburdened it.”

Elizabeth did not immediately look up, instead tracing her spoon along the top of the liquid in her bowl, catching the small flecks of toasted almond that drifted across the surface. “I am certain that I do not know what you mean.”

“Do you not?” said Mr. Field, his tone gentle but not to be mistaken for credulity. “Very well. I shall take that as your answer. I had thought you a young lady of discernment, Miss Elizabeth, well able to perceive the true cause of your own agitation. I shall add only that should you ever wish to confide in an old vicar who has heard nearly every species of young lady’s anxiety, you know where to find me. My wife, too, if you prefer a feminine ear.”

Elizabeth’s lips curled in the hint of a smile, though she did not reply except to thank him for his concern. The remainder of the dinner passed in a blur of cheerful clatter, and when the ladies at last retired to the drawing-room, she was freed from the clergyman’s kind consideration.

Yet, such peace did not last. She supposed that it would be so. There were two gentlemen at least who would much rather spend time with their beloveds than with the other gentlemen. She had taken a seat near the fire, exchanging civilities with Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Long when the door opened and, as she suspected, first admitted Bingley and David into the room. The other gentlemen followed, still speaking with each other about tenants and crop yields as they found their places.

Mrs. Ellington was seated in a corner appointed with an ottoman for her recovering ankle and a small table for her tea. She spoke with Mrs. Field, which lent itself very much to Mr. Field’s purpose. He crossed to his wife immediately, greeting her and Mrs. Ellington with warmth. Elizabeth could not fail to recognise what was occurring before her, for the eyes of the trio were often fixed upon her. Mrs. Ellington’s expression conveyed nothing of censure or alarm. Indeed, her gaze was affectionate and soft, her manner reminding her cousin of how one might look upon a small child who has got mud on their petticoats.

She resolutely turned her face toward Mrs. Long, forcing herself to nod along with an extended monologue on how vexing her nephew was at times and what a patient person she was. It required a staggering amount of patience to wait for a pause in Mrs. Long’s catalogue of family grievances, for the good lady was entirely immune to conversational fatigue. When finally Mrs. Long had to take a breath between complaints, Elizabeth managed to murmur something about needing to get something to drink and excused herself.