But he was so handsome. So,sohandsome.
Those smooth firm lips, the length of sideburns, the angular shape of his chin. The way his coat fell around his hips. The long tapering line of his legs. The shape of his fingers. Elizabeth shook herself. She needed to finish the letter to Charlotte.
Elizabeth did, and then she began a letter to Mrs. Gardiner. First she asked for news — was it true Mr. Gardiner had made Mr. Peake a full partner after only five years in his employ? What were the details ofthisnews? Then Elizabeth wrote about meetingtheMr. Darcy of Pemberley. And her mind wandered.
Of course it wandered to Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth stared outside at the rattling branches of the oak tree, the withered hedges, waiting the return of a warm season to blossom into greenery once more. The bushes more like grey piles of sticks than plants. So beautiful. But her land’s beauty gave her a dissatisfied ache: she had seen these hedges and this winter many times before.
There was some new desire in her being. Some sprig of verdure, and it ached formore. For different.
Elizabeth pushed that nameless sensation away, confused. Her mind settled on Mr. Darcy, and his tall, lean form. Little Anne leaping into his arms. He would make a fine father one day — hopefully to a son, since with his attitudes he should be given no control over agirl.
Georgiana turned out well, though quiet…
“Tuppence for your thoughts, my dear.”
Elizabeth startled at her father’s words. She blushed, realizing it had been some minutes and the fire had burned much lower since the last time she had moved.
“My mind was wandering.”
“From whence to where?”
Elizabeth looked at the banked fire again. Red coals glowed in the grate. The air was lightly chilled, but Elizabeth was warm. She had been thinking of Mr. Darcy. As a parent. She blushed and shook her head. “No, I intend such knowledge to remainprivate.”
“It must have been a serious matter to distract you from aletter.”
“Ihavewritten industriously.”
“Not a line for at least twenty minutes; if youareworking, you do so much like the hare in the tale, industrially resting so you might outrun the tortoise in the end.”
“No! It has not been near that long since I stopped writing.”
Papa pointed to the tall old pendulum clock he kept next to one of the book cases in a corner of the room. Its brass arm hypnotically swung back and forth. “I timed you. Twenty minutes.”
Elizabeth glanced at the black painted box of the clock. The hour was surprisingly late.
“What bothers you, Lizzy?”
“I am...concerned how our introduction of Georgiana shall go.”
Papa raised his eyebrows and peered at her over his eyeglasses. “Really?”
Elizabeth blushed at her small dishonesty. Papa knew she had something else bothering her. “My friends will accept her.” Elizabeth said confidently, “Everyone knows many people do…such things.”
“Do they?”
“They do.”
“But what concern were you really worrying upon?”
“Mama told me a story about Jane and your marriage that surprised me. Is it true?”
Mr. Bennet opened his mouth. He closed it and blushed. “No new subjects till we have exhausted the first. We were examining the matter that bothersyou.”
“I like Georgiana. Expecting manners to change so that a woman in her situation would be accepted at any assembly is absurd — such will never happen — but she deserves chances to dance, and dress well, and flirt with the young men. I will see to it that she has that opportunity!”
“But what were youreallythinking on?”
Elizabeth sighed and scooted her chair closer to Papa. She could not hide from him. She took his hand and rubbed it.
